My fork is in the dirt

Part II:  Karen Bueller's Day Off.

My blog readers, who obviously have too much time on their hands,  have already  read the adventures that ensued when  Karen Went to Rome and/or Karen Went to Hawaii:

 Get prepared to hear the exciting details of my latest lark, "Karen Goes to Lunch."

Outside!

At a Mexican Restaurant near the mammography center, where the view was dirty cars in a parking lot but I did not care.

  I was being served

 On a real porcelain  dish.

  By a masked waitress that looked like Jennifer Lopez.

  (We've had her before..when she was mask-less and the world was on its axis)

Jim parked and they tried to seat me at a wobbly table and I almost became THE "Karen."

  I have not waited for three months for a wobbly table. Let me speak to the manager.

J-lo sits me at another, and explains that outdoor dining has only been okayed in NJ for three days, but they were slow, because they don't have a liquor license, which explains everything you need to know about New Jerseyians who were packing every outdoor restaurant in NJ that serves alcohol.

Jim spent the entire lunch on the phone, which is typical for date night. 

 That's actually unfair. 

 It's typical for date AFTERNOON, and I KNEW he had to work, and I was grateful for the company and the ride to Red Bank.

The heat came, the flies came, and I felt like I was back on an excursion from one of the European cruises. I usually complain about insects and humidity, but not on a day I get my Get Out of Jail card.

  Even crowds would have been embraced. 

 (And of COURSE not LITERALLY!)

Jim is apologetically on the phone, and he stops, and looks at me and says, 

"Oh boy..this vendor is.."

And I stopped listening, just as you probably just did, and I respond with:  "My fork is in the dirt."

I don't think I ever used that phrase before, "my fork is in the dirt" but we didn't want to bother the overworked J-lo  for a replacement because, as Jim puts it, "you don't need a fork when all you eat is eight bowls of salsa and forty chips"

He tries to get back to his work call when I hit him with, "so why did you marry me?  What is it you like best about me?"

He looks a little startled, and then answers, a little too quickly, "you are animated."

I wanted to say " you  can be replaced by a lab tech that can massage me like a can of Play Doh" any time, you know", but I said:

"Animated?? That describes BoJack Horseman, not your wife of 30-plus years"

He went back to his call, but deep in my heart, I knew, I just KNEW..that there was no one on this earth he'd rather have his first post-quarantine lunch with, even with flies, even with a pair of burly truck drivers just six feet away at the wobbly table.