Rich is at a hockey class so I ate cereal for dinner.  My mouth tastes foul right now.  Milk breath.  Enough said.

It turns out that I’m from Pluto.  That figures … it’s not even a planet anymore.  See where you’re from at http://www.blogthings.com/whatplanetareyoufromquiz/  I always thought I was from Venus.  Oh well.

Our trip to Granbury and Glen Rose was great.  We left here on a windy Saturday and encountered a dust storm, the likes of which I haven’t seen since I lived in New Mexico.  The wind was shoving my car all over the road, and I was quite happy not to be driving my old Tahoe.  That thing was abused in the wind.

We arrived in Granbury and checked into the bed and breakfast where we were staying.  It was only when we got in that it really hit me that we were basically staying in a stranger’s house.  Kind of weird!  They were really nice and gave us recommendations for places to eat.  We chose a restaurant called “Let’s Eat” which is owned by a man who used to be a chef at the Four Seasons.  Sounds good, right?  Well, let me tell you, the place was a complete dump!  It was in a building that I think was a gas station at one point in life.  The tables wouldn’t be put in most roadside diners.  But he was a chef at the Four Seasons, and Granbury is a lake town, so everything is pretty dumpy.  We decided we’d stay and see what happened.  Well, the place instantly filled up at six when they opened, and there was an immense wait.  Luckily we were there first (we were REALLY hungry) and didn’t have to wait.  The chef arrived and put on some Metallica and got going.  He was clearly enjoying himself!  I ordered a crawfish pasta with sausage and peppers, and Rich got the Beef Tenderloin.  Holy cow, words cannot describe how fantastic this food was!  I seriously could not stop eating mine.  Rich’s tenderloin was melt-in-your-mouth awesome.  Mine was spicy and tender and incredibly good.  Top five meals in my life good.

Anyway, we went back to the B&B and played games in our room.  We didn’t see anyone else, but we knew that all the rooms were full.  Our room was really nice – it was the garden suite, so we had private access to the gardens (duh).  Unfortunately it was cold and windy, so we stayed in.  It was lovely and romantic.

On Sunday morning, we had breakfast at the B&B (hence the second “B”) which was just as good as dinner the night before.  She made Eggs on a Cloud, Apple French Toast, fruit cups, scones, muffins, ham, green beans, and some other things I know I’m forgetting.  It was all fabulous, and I know this because I ate some of everything.  Oh, the coffee was delicious too. 

After we ate and checked out, we went into town to finish shopping (we did a little before dinner on Saturday).  Granbury has lots of antique shops, so we had fun with that.  My favorite game to play while checking out antiques is “Is It Haunted?”.  The answer is yes if the piece is at all ornate.  There is a sliding scale, so the more ornate something is, the more haunted it is.  That seems pretty obvious to me, but Rich doesn’t always agree.  Sometimes he does though!  Every once in a while we’d come across a wardrobe with ridiculous details like a sun god blowing wind, and both of us would be like, “That’s totally haunted.”  (Though he doesn’t really say “totally” since it sounds all Valley Girl, which according to him is what I sound like.  Urgh.)

After shopping, we went to Glen Rose to visit Fossil Rim Wildlife Park.  It was amazing!  The animals come right up to your car, and you feed them the food that you buy from the park.  Some of them have clearly come up with an organized plan for obtaining as much food as possible from each car.  They’ll tag team you and then zig-zag across the road so you have no choice but to stop again lest you whack one with your car.  Then you have to feed them again because they’re staring at you, then nudging you, and then if you don’t respond, they’ll just take the food right from your bag (this happened to my friend Erika, but I never let it get that far – one nudge was enough for me!).  The zebras were positively rude.  I still have zebra snot on the shirt I wore (mainly because I haven’t done laundry yet).  The did the tag team thing and then stuck their full heads in the car, nose to nose with me, and were like, “Give me my damn snack, muthafucka!”  Okay, Mr. Zebra, no problemo.  Very scary.

We ate at the midpoint restaurant which is on a bluff overlooking the whole park.  It doesn’t even look like Texas.  It was just incredible.  I felt like we could be on safari (though a very docile one).  We visited the gift shop, and I got two t-shirts, one of zebras painting all the other animals to look like them (I figured it was because the zebras were going into a line-up for being assholes) and one of the animals mooning us.  I heart tacky tourist t-shirts!  I wear them to skate in.  They’re still not as bad as Luke’s t-shirt which says, “Jump so I can see them jiggle”.  Shocking!  And to think his mother is a coach at the rink.

Like all mini-breaks, I wish it had been longer, but now we have reason to go back.  It really was a good trip.  My munchkin would’ve loved it, so he’ll go next time.  We can’t stay at the B&B with him because they don’t take kids under 16.  That’s fine though.  Even though it was very nice and the food was awesome, it turns out we’re hotel people.  It’s just a little more private, and you don’t have to feel like you’re trampling about somebody’s home, even if those people have opened their home to the public.  Plus this one guest got up super early for coffee and dang, she was l-o-u-d!!!  She also didn’t shut up during breakfast which was too bad because this one other woman seemed like she was an interesting person, but thanks to Mrs. Yappity-Yap, we’ll never know.  It was like when I used to go to the lakehouse with my parents and my mom would get up at the crack of dawn and start clanging pots and pans so we’d have to get up and keep her company.  That sucked, man.  What teenager wants to wake up at six a.m. on a Saturday?  Not me.  And that same me doesn’t want to wake up to a coffee-swilling, story-telling yakker at seven on a Sunday.  Rich woke up and said, “Where is her mute button???”  From the look on her down-trodden husband’s face, I’d say she doesn’t have one.  Poor dude.  I hope I don’t ever do that to Rich! 

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