And On A Sunday, No Less

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I did some grand manipulating yesterday. Suzanne was, of course, the victim of it. She always is. But I’m an up-front manipulator. I make it clear that I’m doing it. She plays along, and let’s me be successful.

For example, I wanted to go to Sunday brunch yesterday. Suzanne would have preferred I declare a Pajama Day and that we not go anywhere at all. She knew my innards had been painfully tugging at me for a couple of days, and she wanted me to rest. She was thinking of what I needed.

So I did this little speech about how I was feeling oodles better than a few days ago, but I didn’t feel quite well enough to cook breakfast, and I didn’t want her to cook because she’s been working such long hours, and then coming home to cook and clean and heft and tote and yada yada. And how I felt sooo bad she’s had to carry the whole work/home burden for two months, as well as take care of me and blah blah blah. And so I told her that since I didn’t feel quite better enough to cook, it’s only right that she drive us somewhere to brunch, and I pick up the tab. (As if our money is separate.)

The manipulation worked. I knew what I was doing. She knew what I was doing. And don’t think for one second that she doesn’t use the same manipulation tactic on me. Honest, open manipulation is my fave kind of manipulation.

So off we headed to SLC, to yet another restaurant we’ve never tried before: PURGATORY. Yes, on the Sabbath. Suzanne had a breakfast burger without a bun. I had a bacon-egg-french fry-beans-pickled onion-salsa breakfast burrito. We were both pleased with our entrees. We ate on the deck, and when we were done, we sat there for another hour or more– iPhones in hand– searching online for outlandish cowboy boots for me. I have no idea how our conversation led us to the topic of cowboy boots. But, oh, the choices we found!

I asked Suzanne if she had a problem with me wearing cowboy boots with my shorts. She was all for it. I mean– I wore them with my shorts as a kid, and the Bible says we’re supposed to be childlike. And it was, in fact, the Sabbath. So Sunday brunch was a little bit like a Sunday School lesson, I guess. My spirit is joyful that we went to PURGATORY on the Sabbath.