Spice has a good summary of our afternoon, but she doesn't answer some critical questions - Seriously - Boston Market? But what did J.Bro and M.Bro do before the .Bone car got there? And what did they do while everyone else was giggling at T.Bone's medical and auto emergencies?
Rewind to November, 2001 - M.Bro and I had lived in Madison only a couple months, but lo, Thanksgiving was upon us! Without any family close and with no intention to cook (read: clean up after) a holiday-level meal for two, we looked for dining-out options. Everything nice - full. Boston Market, with its shimmering-in-the-sunlight chicken and formerly-made-in-little-bread-pans-but-now-just-blobs-of-cornbread cornbread, fed us well. In fact, when Spring rolled around and brought us Easter, we decided to return. Since then, it's been our holidays-without-family tradition. This is the first year others have joined us, but the plentitude of food and excellent service (which turned our piesicle into a not-completely-frozen-throughout-and-in-fact-hot-near-the-surface apple pie without a complaint) will bring them back.
Before we ate, however, there were some tense minutes in the parking lot. The .Bone car was a few minutes late, and Mrs. Bro was a little concerned when she discovered the lack of detail in our dinner plans. "So you didn't say WHICH Boston Market?" was one of the things she said. Plausible deniability - I still don't even know whether there's another Boston Market in Madison. The .Bone, .Goebbels and .Licka car eventually pulled in, not really very late at all, and we began what would be a solid three hours of fun-making at T.Bone's expense.
One of my running goals is to beat T.Bone in the Crazylegs Classic (last year: him 33:01, me 44:06) - a broken foot would have made this a lot easier. This "serious strain" he now says he has is going to put a hamper in my plans. I may have to find some other way to sabatoge him.
After gallons of unused gravy from our pail o' gravy were thrown away, the .Bone car proceeded to the hospital, and M.Bro and I headed home. We listened to the Badgers lose, but neither of us cared very much. I believe M.Bro said, "Ohh - I feel kind of bad for them". That's the extent of our involvement in the NCAA tournament - sympathy for the players on losing teams. Then came the napping. In fact, she's still napping as I write this. Digestion is exhausting.