What are you hungry for?

by Katie on October 6, 2009

Brandon judged another county fair this past weekend, and I was able to accompany him at the last minute when we found someone to irrigate our thirsty sunflowers. We figured it was worth spending half his livestock judging earnings to hire some labor since we hadn’t seen each other for eight days.
On the way to our hotel the first night, after a day of looking at cattle and handling sheep, we were looking for a place to grab a bite to eat.
So we went through the routine:
Brandon: “Italian?”
Me: “Nope, just had that.”
Brandon: “American, Mexican?”
Me: “Those would work.”
Brandon: “Greek, pizza?”
Me: “No Greek, no pizza. And where the heck did Greek come from?”
Brandon: “Steakhouse?”
Me: “Maybe.”
So we proceeded to look for any American, Mexican or steakhouse restaurants.
At one point, I saw a pink-looking building with the word “Casa” on it. But I couldn’t tell what was behind the “Casa.” So I said, “Look, there’s a Casa…Casa…Casa something…Casa what?”
As we drove by, Brandon said, “Oh yeah, Casa Decor. Fine imports. Let’s eat there. Maybe they’ll have a couch we can nibble on. Or an end table.”
In my defense, the sun was setting right behind the place, and I do have a prescription for glasses, which I refuse I fill until I really just can’t see. And how many Mexican restaurants are pink and called “Casa” something?
But Brandon wouldn’t let it go. As we continued driving, we came upon a big sign for some model homes.
“Oh look. Casa de model home. Bet they have a nice entrée.”
And a mile later, “There’s another furniture store. We could eat there.”
We did eventually find something other than leather or cherry oak for an appetizer.

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