This morning, my scale claimed that I weighed 221.2 pounds.
Last night we enjoyed an all-you-can-eat buffet at a Chinese restaurant. I learned that my, shall we say, “diet to live” instincts do not run deep. Oh, eating and eating was such fun.
I always use chopsticks, and I always read the paper label before ripping it off. Chinese restaurants have had so many years to get the text right on these wrappers, that I no longer expect to be amused by their approximations of English. But I was surprised. Here’s a quote from my chopstick wrapper:
Please try your nice Chinese food with chopsticks the traditional and typical of Chinese glorious history.
This was a small restaurant and there were few diners. The staff consisted of a maitre d’ who doubled as cashier and waiter, and also took takeout orders on the phone. He did everything in a loud, resigned and friendly voice.
After we gave our order, I asked for tea. The man hurried to the kitchen, and then he yelled something that I never, ever, expected to hear at a Chinese restaurant:
“How do you make tea?”