Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
Something very few people know is that @SirNoid and I have been considering having the vasectomy (I insisted on seven years ago – again… what is with the seven that keeps popping up in my life?), reversed.
Playing the role of the supportive husband, @SirNoid said if you can go three months with not a single doubt, we can investigate having another child.
Well, tonight my husband is at a gala dinner and I decided I shall go to Spur for supper by my own self. Not just any Spur mind you. The Palomino Spur at Sun City! Go big or go back to your fine dining experiences Wench.
When my kids were younger (25 YEARS ago!) it was their favourite hang out. This visit should seize my ovaries and induce menopause, or have me arranging reveal parties as there were no Pinterest when I was vomiting and having severe heartburn.
I asked to be seated in a booth towards the back so I can observe. I did not ask to seated near the children play area as my memory is not that poor.
It wasn’t long before a birthday song was sung. Not a proper song. Plenty clapping and few lyrics. I don’t like that.
With great excitement, I spot a Strawberry Daiquiri on the menu. Must be a pre-mix-job I decide, but order it anyway. After it arrived, I asked for a glass of crushed ice to try to revive it. It works enough for me to feel a small kick. Small, but I’ll take it. Don’t order this if it is your signature drink. You won’t be living your best life.
I’ve not seen the steak with prawns and cheese on the menu before, so I order that. I think there may have been garlic involved. With vegetables. I’ve been ill. My body needs butternut and spinach.
The steak was done as I asked (rare) and the prawns and cheese topping was not bad either. The garlic lingered as it should. Vegetables were good, I love the onion rings but the chips were a little sad. Main meal was a win then?
Another birthday clap. The birthday kid gives a loud cry. Hates ageing that kid does.
There are two men sitting behind me. Swearing in Afrikaans. They speak as if all the woman of the world is lining up to give them a bit of that. I picture what they look like in my head. Eventually, I turn around to see what these sex gods look like… Congratulate me again on never having sex in Afrikaans. I’m clearly a winner. Ugh.
The waitress has been fabulous. I always ask for water with ice and more often than not it is forgotten. She kept it coming. I may love her.
I order Peppermint Crisp tart with ice cream because it reminds me of my son Liam James… and I’m a sentimental sod. Oh and a Cappuccino.
Good job on dessert. Truly. It had that homemade touch to it and tasted lovely. The Cappuccino was okay.
As closing time approaches, the now overtired parents and sleeping children have left. Thankfully so has the wanna-be sex gods.
The staff starts cleaning up around me. Loudly in voice and mop action. That annoys me.
There is a man loudly discussing breast milk, and I quote “warm from the nipple”, I kid you not, at the Spur counter where I am supposed to exit the restaurant. It appears this man is waiting for one of the staff members. He spoiled my nostalgia for sure.
Spur served a much better meal than I expected. Yay! I do wish they would go back to singing “Happy birthday!” without the clap. The ambience was family orientated as expected, the music was toned down and my waitress, Blessing, was just that! Outstanding. Attentive, friendly and knowledgeable. I did tell her that she was lovely and tipped accordingly.
I spoke to the Manager, Dumisani about the breast, nipple braai fire talk and that perhaps friends waiting for staff to finish their shift should do so silently or elsewhere. He apologised and thanked me for bringing it to his attention. I felt heard. His eyes when I said the word nipple confirmed it. Thank you, Sir.
As for my ovaries, rejoice beloved. I don’t think I will be out this late at night by myself, in a town other than where I live, doing a review with a babe in arms! Besides, a clap for my birthday child won’t do.
I wish you enough,