Pulling strings

Sleepless and I haven’t hung, just the two of us, for some time. So, with Ice Cream Man out of town (some sort of Nut Sundae convention), we met for drinks and dining. I prepared in advance and made us Sangria using, of course, Sleepless’ box of white zinfandel – something I keep in my fridge for her year round.

We enjoyed a few glasses and then decided to walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner where we had the privilege of continuing to enjoy Sangria. When we first arrived, they seated us inside, however, we preferred to sit on the front patio, where there was an unoccupied table for two – placed right next to an occupied table of two. “Any chance we can sit outside, just not right next to that couple?” Sleepless asked our server. “We don’t mind, but it may get awkward,” I added. Our server swiftly obliged and we were soon on the patio enjoying a lovely dinner for two.

Each time our server returned, we were discussing matters that, as an outsider who is only getting the tail end of our chasing tail stories, might be both offensive and intriguing. “I can only imagine what she might think of us,” Sleepless stated. Once she brought us our dessert, we no longer had to imagine. “I pulled some strings to get them bigger,” she told us, with a Cheshire grin on her face, as she placed our extra girthy churro sticks on the table. “Do you think it is bad if I double dip?” Sleepless asked. “Not something that size, you have no choice but to double dip,” I replied.

A few minutes later, our server brought us the bill. “Fitting. Look at the price,” Sleepless advised. $69. “That’s what happens when you ‘pull strings’,” I replied.