I kept waiting for Bobby Flay.

Before Mama and Daddy drove the long drive across the great state of Texas to get here, Hubs asked me what we would do during their visit.

Crickets chirping.

"Well," I said, "we'll go out for good Mexican food one night, maybe a movie, out for steaks another night, and that's about it."

Did I mention they were here for a week?

Now, my people do not really have to be entertained. We are a lot like the Culhanes from Hee Haw. Just sit us on the couch together and we're good.

This means one of two things. We are boring or we are entertaining on our own. I'll let you figure that one out.

Friday afternoon we went to the movies and saw The Tale of Despereaux. I never took French in high school; I took two years of Spanish. So, I have no idea what Despereaux means in French. My guess is that it translates, "falsely advertised movie full of creepy rats and only one cute mouse but the book is still great, so skip the eight bucks and buy the paperback for the kids."

After the movie we went out for Mexican food. So, in about three hours, we had used up over half of our planned entertainment.

On Saturday, Mama wanted to ride over to a little town nearby (littler than the one we are in) and "see what's there."

I tried to tell her there was pretty much nothing to see except for the downtown square. My friend N went for a girls' day out one day and the entire group visited about six stores and had lunch in roughly two hours.

Still, Mama wanted to go. The great steak place is in this little town, so we headed over for an afternoon of sightseeing, planning to end the outing with a steak dinner.

We stopped at one store in the downtown square. That took up about twenty minutes. We then piled back in the car, looked around and decided to head to Wal-mart.

The Wal-mart visit took up about an hour.

It was 3:00 PM.

So, Hubs decided to take us to the Peanut factory so we could visit their gift shop. (We were low on entertainment options and peanut products.)

I'm not making this stuff up.

Mama and I were doubtful that the peanut factory gift shop would be open for the holidays. When we drove up, there were no cars in the parking lot. Still, Hubs was sure they were open. Hubs was right.

Sitting inside the small gift shop was an older lady just waiting for us to buy a twenty pound bag of roasted peanuts. She was lovely. We walked around the small shop, and as I browsed the many flavors of peanut butter, I overheard my Daddy strike up a conversation.

My Daddy does not meet a stranger. He talks to everyone. And, like most Southerners, the conversation always begins with where people are from. (You have no idea how important that is.)

After Daddy told the nice lady they were here visiting his daughter and son-in-law, he then continued to tell her that they were from Southwest Georgia, The Peanut Capital Of The World.

He threw down the goober gauntlet.

Fortunately, there was no malice in Daddy's declaration or else there could have been a throw down right there in the peanut factory gift shop. Plus, the nice lady behind the counter really doesn't care about peanut capital titles. Her only concern is that her ride comes at 5:00.

We all bought something. I purchased some cinnamon peanut butter and Mama purchased some roasted peanuts. We passed on the raw peanuts because they were old and my people use raw peanuts for boiling, not roasting. We know that only fresh, green peanuts are good for boiling.

I guess you'd have to be from the Peanut Capital of The World to understand.