First a little background info.  We are a three name family or as we like to call ourselves the PMJs (Portner, Morris Jacksons) It took some time for my fairly traditional husband to get why I didn’t take his name, but I think we are good 10 years later.  So anyway, despite unintentionally confusing strangers and receptionists I think it suits our little family.

I am sure many of you parents out there that interact with their children have been subjected to playing restaurant.  The Husband and I were sitting at the table not doing anything when we were presented with a meat menu and a chicken menu.  These menus were masquerading in the form of books so we needed to get on The Associates imagination super highway.  I always like to assume the role of an uppity rich woman, and incessantly complain about the service I am getting in this establishment.   The Husband ordered chicken marsala from his chicken menu, which is apparently spelled sour chicken. ew.  I ordered a porterhouse for two with béarnaise sauce, au gratin potatoes and green beans. “What do you mean you don’t have béarnaise sauce?, this is ridiculous.”  “where are our drinks?”   I feel that it is my right to behave this way because in real life I am really nice to everybody I encounter in the service industry. Been there done that for many many years. I am not being a terrible role model, just like to spice up the game. After some clattering of pans and silverware we were proffered Portnerhouse for 2.   Invisible and Delicious.