It is a tradition going back to The Boy’s second birthday that, on each child’s birthday, I take them out to do whatever they want. The Barbarienne turned three, and so was allowed to pick a restaurant to have lunch at.
But, of course, she’s three. What does she know? I tried to interest her in some local places she had been and liked, but The Flower was hard at work, lobbying for her favorite restaurant.
What I may not have mentioned about The Flower is all the ways in which she is like an old woman. From her quote here (“I’ve got nothing to do today but smoke and boss people around.”) to her disturbing practice of collecting nickels for her grandchildren, The Flower has many characteristics that one normally associates with senior citizens.
Which brings us to Denny’s.
Denny’s usually results in heartburn for me, starting somewhere about the time when someone says, “Let’s go to De–”, and before they can utter “knees” my heart starts to whine. I’m not sure what it is about that place versus all the places I might eat (Tommy’s Burgers, for example, or “that place under the freeway where the day laborers hang out”) but my heart objects.
I’ve had a theory, though: I think they cook everything in some kind of non-stick Pam-like spray. Probably a cheap knock-off. So, on top of the heartburn, the inside of its mouth feels like it’s coated with teflon.
You know that list that floats around about uses for Coke? It’s also about the only thing that will take the teflon off.
Anyway, I don’t have to go back there until The Flower’s birthday when, unless I do some fancy footwork, she’ll want to eat there for lunch and dinner.
Fun fact: One item on the current Denny’s menu is $16.70. Inflation’s a bitch.