Two months before my trip to Vegas and I have been in intense e-mail communication with the rest of the “girls” over where we will be having our group dinner. Two months! And in my head I hear my dad saying to my mom, as she settled in after cleaning up after dinner to watch I Love Lucy, “So what do you want to have for dinner tomorrow night, Bud?”. Her response was usually along the lines of a request to let the current dinner digest before even attempting that conversation.
Yep, it’s all dad’s fault. It’s his genes that are clearly dominant.