austin_dern (austin_dern) wrote,

Tried it on for size

Before we returned to bunny_hugger's home, we stopped at a chocolate shop nearby. bunny_hugger has brought chocolates to my parents from them, and my parents have been awesomely impressed with them. It happens I'd never been in there before so I got to see something for the first time as my mother did, too. The store has a wonderful selection of the varied candies as only an eccentric family business can. They had an impressive three-foot-tall solid chocolate rabbit up front, an impressive 75-pound object that's nominally for sale for over $500, although it's normally made for pre-Easter publicity and given to charity. We started buying candy, with the idea of getting a one-pound box to share with bunny_hugger's parents, and it turns out to take a lot of chocolates to fill a one-pound box if you're picking a couple at a time. My mother went a little overboard buying things, by which I mean a lot overboard.

We brought my mother to bunny_hugger's home, which my mother found delightful. Charming, honestly, particularly because it has so much of the styling left by the artistic previous owner, with boldly-colored rooms and wonderful plaster work. bunny_hugger treats her house, in part, as caretaking a precious place, and it comes across. My mother was also shocked to see how large bunny_hugger's pet rabbit is. I had warned her he was big, but she took my description (``larger than I was up through fourth grade'') as some kind of hyperbole.

bunny_hugger's parents arrived, just about on the dot, and I think the meeting went off pretty well. They were sorry that my father couldn't make it, and I was too. My mother was being friendly, and for that matter was having a great time --- I could tell, particularly, since while sitting on the chair she lifted her feet off the ground and sat with her legs on the chair, something she only does when pretty near giddy. However, that's also not the obvious sort of thing that people who don't know her well will recognize. It would've been much easier with my father there, since he has that almost supernatural ability to make everybody feel instantly at ease. And that he and bunny_hugger's father have strikingly similar personalities would have made it only better.

I know that despite a good number of positive signs, including the box of candy being a solid hit, her parents weren't perfectly at ease. I'm not sure whether my mother noticed bunny_hugger's parents commenting about how they weren't as ``fashionable'' as she was --- my mother dressed a bit up for dinner --- but I noticed, and it wasn't said just the once.

There was a spot of my general incompetence at things, as we were getting reay ready to go to dinner, when we couldn't find the coat bunny_hugger gave me and which I hung up in the closet. It'd fallen down. Not just that it fell off its hanger, which would have been an ordinary sort of incompetence on my part, but the jacket with the hanger inside fell down, indicating I managed to fail at putting a hooked thing on a pole. Tch.

We went to eat, at the restaurant made from the former Lansing train depot. The first time bunny_hugger, her parents, and I went to eat there we were seated on the main floor. The second time we were put in the balcony. This time we were put on an elevated portion within the balcony. I have to suppose the next time we're going to be set on the roof, or maybe forced to dangle from the chandeliers.

My mother did like the place, and dinner, and despite a weird confusion about whether they still had this blondie-based dessert --- they did, saving bunny_hugger from deep disappointment --- all came out well. We had the feeling it might have been our waiter's first day, though.

So all the major goals of the day were met, reasonably successfully. I just regret my father couldn't have been there.

Trivia: When Romania adopted the Georgian Calendar the days of 1 April through 13 April, 1919, were dropped. Source: Mapping Time: The Calendar and its History, EG Richards.

Currently Reading: The Jersey Midlands, Henry Charlton Beck. Originally published (in 1939) as Fare To Midlands, and about lost towns of central New Jersey. Apparently there used to be a place known as Texas, which implicitly solves the mystery of why there's a Texas Road.


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