SCORE!

In order for me to get to the main point of my story today, I'm going to have to do a few twists and turns as we go around the Mulberry Bush ... so ... bear with me.

In the small, historic town I live in (in the middle the of Mid-Atlantic-East-Coast), we get a monthly magazine. And in that magazine, we get a cool coupon (the reason why we subscribed to this magazine) that offers buy-one-get-one-FREE. Yeah. Local restaurants have participated in this coupon deal, and it's a great way to have a cheap date night. That's the first turn around the Mulberry bush.

Yesterday was the last day for our March coupon, so we decided to go to the Italian restaurant offering said coupon. So we went, and upon entering, I got the distinct impression that we were being treated like "second class" citizens. I'm not sure if it was because we: a) had a child; b) had no reservations (the restaurant was NOT busy); or c) had a coupon that we were using. Regardless, I was disappointed in how we were treated. We were seated in a far back room, behind a column (not-so-comfy), and we were not attended to in as generous a manner as the patrons in the front and main part of the restaurant.

This was one of those "fine dining" experiences, where meals run around $20 per, so, I'm sure that the sound of my son having a near-melt-down because he was hungry.right.now., and then clanging his spoon against his dish as he emitted occasional squeals of joy must have compared to fingernails scraping against a chalk board to quite a few un-happy patron. One word: Karma.

So we ate. We paid. We left. And here's where I go around the mulberry bush again. You see, my father-in-law is sort of a scavenger. Okay, he is totally a scavenger. If he takes a load of junk to the dump, he'll go looking around to see if he can find anything good. In fact, he has found quite a few good things that he has restored, and displays one such item proudly in his living room. That, of course, was prior to "What's In Your Attic" and "Antique Roadshow." Now, people are smarter than the average bear, and don't dump their semi-precious antiques at, well, the dump. Unfortunately, this habbit tends to spill out in other areas. As in, spotting a broken toy along the road, or a dime in the parking lot. Or, going through the piles in my neighborhood when we have a scheduled bulk-trash pick up. This annoying rewarding habbit "might have" rubbed off a wee bit on my husband.

Point in case: Last night, as we were leaving the restaurant of epic proportions, he spied a pair of sunglasses laying on the side walk. Since he was carrying our son on his shoulders, he instructed me to pick them up. "Pick them up?" I said... "yeah, pick them up" he replied. So, I nervously looked around my shoulder, feeling like I was shoplifting or something, bent over, and grabbed them and continued to walk. Of course, there weren't any cars or people where they had fallen. But I still felt ... like I was being watched on a surveilance camera.

So, we get into the car, and strap our son in, and start to drive. My husband turns to me and says, "should we take an ad out in the paper?"

Yeah. I was lost too.

"An ad?" I replied... And he said, "yeah, an ad to see if any one lost the sunglasses." To which I burst into (lovingly, of course) histerical laughter. "An ad? For a pair of sunglasses? Bwahahahahahahaha." He, of course, was serious. And replied, "yeah, I guess we shouldn't pay $25 for an ad for a pair of sunglasses."

So I'm still laughing, when he turns to me and says, "do you realize how much these sunglasses must have cost? The person that lost them is probably fire-mad!" Now, here's another turn around the mulberry bush, because I had just been shopping for sunglasses last week, and was shocked -- SHOCKED, I tell you -- that Macy's would charge FIFTY DOLLARS for a pair of Tommy Hilfiger sunglasses -- I settled for a $10 pair at Dress Barn. Who needs name brand, anyway?

So, being all smart, as everyone knows I am, I turned to him and said, "yeah -- they were probably like $40 or $50 bucks." To which he replied with, "Bwahahahahahahaha. No. These are Hobies. More like $100."

To which I grasped my chest and choked out, "Elizabeth ... I'm coming home." Okay. Not really. But it would have been perfect if I had, wouldn't it?

He then asked me if I even knew who Hobie was? Which, I don't. And he said they were some big surfer-dude designer or something like that. Whatever.

So we get home, and he makes a beeline to the computer and looks up the sunglasses -- "Monica, by Hobie" and comes out to the family room to announce that indeed, "they did not cost $100, but $120, instead!"

Lord.have.mercy.my.heart.be.still. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS? For a pair of sunglasses?

So, after I furiously disinfected wiped them down, I tried them on, and you know what??? They look pretty darn good on me! Which is a miracle in itself, because it takes me forever to find a pair of sunglasses that look good on my face.

Yeah. So, who got the last laugh!!!

So check it -- here's what I got last night:

Not-so-good Gourmet Dinner for 3 -- $24
A few trips around the Mulberry bush -- FREE
A pair of $120 Hobie Sunglasses -- FREE
A story for my blog -- PRICELESS!!!

I totally Rock.