At least we're good tippers.

If I could remember every conversation Hubs and I have had with waitresses and waiters over the years, I would have enough material to fill this blog for a month.

Aren't you glad my memory isn't what it used to be?

Seriously, over the years we have had some pretty, um, weird discussions with the folks who bring us food. It usually starts off with an odd comment from Hubs, then I try to explain that he is in fact weird and the back and forth banter ensues.

Kind of like Good Customer, Bad Customer.

Most of the time, the waitress goes along with us. In fact, she usually adds to the drama and makes us laugh. Other times, I am sure she went straight back to the kitchen and asked the chef to add a lil somethin' special to our dish.


Enough with the intro. Here's what happened yesterday at Chili's. (How's that for a segue?)

Our family hates germs. Specifically germs from people's hands. And more specifically germs from people's hands after the Force Yourself To Talk To Your Neighbor meet and greet at church. When we go out to eat after the service, my family sits down and waits for me to reach in my purse for the Bath And Body hand foam.

The Bath and Body hand foam is precious to me. It is the Starbucks of hand sanitizer. They once threatened to discontinue it and I nearly bought out the store. I left a few on the shelf for the next customer. I couldn't deal with the guilt of the next germ freak mom walking in and finding an empty shelf.

So, back to our neurosis.


Hubs has a system when we go out. He excuses himself, washes his hands, then returns for the coveted Bath and Body Hand Foam. (My current supply is cucumber melon.)

My daughter and I always tease him about his Howard Hughes potential (OKAY, she doesn't know who that is) and yesterday was no different.


As we waited for our waitress, I said, "You know, I am really your enabler. If I didn't provide the hand sanitizer, you would not be able to do this every time. Really, I am part of the problem."


"Yes, you are," Hubs said in sarcasm, " we are codependent."

"I know. I depend on your dependence," I said," it's sad, really."

You are probably wondering what our daughter is thinking at this point. I'll tell you. She thinks this is completely normal for her parents.


The waitress walked up, pen and pad in hand, and asked for our drink order.

"We're codependent," Hubs told her.

"Okaaaay," she said cautiously.

"He depends on me and I depend on that," I began to explain.

The waitress looked at me and said,"I see you have a ring on your finger. Does that have something to do with it?"

"No, it's much deeper than that," I answered.

"And darker," Hubs offered.


"I like that. I like dark," our waitress said with a giggle.

Then she took Hubs' order for a Coke, looked at both of us and said,"Should I bring two straws?"


Edited to add: For the hand foam that will destroy those icky bacteria and leave nothing but a fresh, clean scent of cucumber melon, go here.

You will wonder how you ever survived without it!