The Post of Insufferable Urbanity

Ok, remember how Urban Dad turned 50 recently? And how his mom sent a check meant for us to go have a ridiculously overpriced dinner at some swank-a-licious spot? (she's into swank and thinks we should be too -- twist my arm.) And how we joked about if we could get through a six-hour 20-course dinner together at one particular place? And we were thinking of going here for dinner, which is not the six-hour place?

Well, we're now going to the six-hour place. However, we are not getting the six-hour menu (aka: the "tour" menu). We're doing the "tasting" menu. They want to know which one you want when you make the reservation. (is an eyeroll appropriate here?)

And where was I when I made this reservation? Go ahead. Guess.

Yes folks, while walking on a treadmill at the gym while squinting at the restaurant section of Chicago magazine in one hand and holding my cell phone in the other. (if it helps, there were only about five of us scattered throughout a rather large cardio room, and everyone else had on headphones -- and an eyeroll is definitely appropriate here.)

Commence cyber-smacking. But what the heck -- if you're going to do the experience, you may as well embrace it from the very first moment. Perhaps I'll even send something back to the kitchen. (ok, no)


On lighter notes:

Mommy Brag Moment: Urban Kid 1 took Little House in the Big Woods off of the shelf and started reading it out loud virtually perfectly while U-Dad and I stared slack-jawed. I was so not doing that before five.

Wife Brag Moment: Great Big Urban High School had its graduation on Friday night. Urban Dad was mentioned in the valedictorian's speech -- again! -- who was a former student of his -- again!