My sister and I have very little in common, except the same DNA and our ability to start fads and end them just as abruptly. I suppose that over the years Big Sara has accepted this in us, perhaps even encouraged it. But my sister’s latest fad now involves me, too. She found this place that delivers all this great food to your house, its all cut up and measured out and its all healthy, local farm food. Its just vegan.
I’ve told you all this for one reason… to give you a new Big Sara story. That Saturday that I added the chicken, well, for lunch we all went to a vegan dinner in Oak Cliff with Big Sara.
Let me say that again… we went to Oak Cliff…. With Big Sara… to a diner… that didn’t serve meat. She was a really good sport about the whole thing actually. Though she did say “I don’t understand what the veeeegins’ have against honey. The bees don’t die.” She has a solid point right there.
Anyway, as you can imagine Big Sara is not a vegan. Though since wine is vegan, its not outside the realm of possibilities. The waitress, a soft spoken, pierced hippie kept asking questions and mom appeared to ignore her. She just couldn’t hear her, so I kept yelling everything the waitress said to Big Sara.
“MOM. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK? NO. THEY DON’T HAVE DIET COKE.”
“She’ll have tea, thanks.” I say to the waitress. I feel trapped inside a Golden Girls episode.
She reviewed the menu and Elizabeth asked her what she was going to order. A Burrito.
I shook my head with a silent WTF is in a vegan burrito and regretting that I shared a car with anyone else at the table.
Elizabeth asks, “What side are you getting?”
Big Sara replies “What do they have?”
“They are up on that board over there,” she answers while pointing.
I come back from getting a Dr. Hippie instead of a Dr Pepper and Big Sara is reading them silently but not silently since she is whispering them.
She looks at my sister with a bewildered look on her face and says “I don’t know what ron jay’s are?”
Elizabeth and I are totally confused. Eric is successfully ignoring us. I look up at the sign of sides.
Big Sara doesn’t miss a beat “Sherry, don’t put this in that effing blog.”