Only in America, maybe

John and I were having a delicious Italian dinner with a nice glass of wine at Biga Restaurant in Tulsa and ran into old friends and met new ones. Sometimes I wonder about the friendliness of Tulsa thinking it could be better but not tonight.

I remember sitting the the airport in Honolulu and talking to a wonderful and interesting man from Ecuador, a genuinely friendly person and looking at the round a friendly faces in Hawaii. Next I turned to a less friendly couple next to me and they nearly spit out there hesitant words and it turns out they were from Broken Arrow. When I met John at the airport he mentioned the unfriendly couple in the airport without knowing about my conversation with them earlier. One trip with a basket through wall mart and I find almost no one but me saying excuse me etc. This does not include my wonderful long list of friends

Last night we decided instead of pouting about not being together on our 36th wedding anniversary, we would celebrate twice. Once before and once after. John is on a business trip on our anniversary teaching teachers to teach about Native Americans.

We wanted to go somewhere not to loud and commercial feeling and eat outside. We cannot afford Biga very often but we have both been working hard and feeling the stress so we rationalized a nice evening out. Just a quiet night on the patio sharing food at Biga.

Yes you can spend a fortune there but we never do. We split everything and get a chance to taste more.

First we ran into Karen Keith, sweetheart that she is and her husband and talked Mexico and travel. Then we met a new couple next to us as we passed on eating tips of the evening. The food was delightful. We always rely on Shellie the waitress to help us order.

Meanwhile our new best friends who we gave some ordering tips to turned out to be an interesting lady with her nice lawyer husband. We had so many friends and things in common we found it difficult to not keep talking.
On the way out of the restaurant she whispered in my ear and asked if she could take me to her plastic surgeon "Rick" and have him copy my dimple. My dimple from a car wreck when I was 6 years old on a dark country road in Indiana. Only in America! I guess the doctor could cut the right muscle and pronto, original plastic surgery! I did appreciate the compliment but I must say they made a lovely couple dimples or not.

Good wine, great company and delicious food. What a nice evening.