Meeting for meat faucet

[muckefuck]

Sleepy, sleepy. From the moment spookyfruit rang me up yesterday evening and proposed a trip to Fogo de Chão, I knew I wouldn't get much sleep. Sure enough, six hours later, there I was: a sack of meat sitting on my bed waiting for the Tums® to kick in.

But, oh, was I happy! Lombo, linguiça, cordeiro, costela de porco, hearts of palm, marinated mushrooms, caipirinha--a whole parade of life's delectables from eager servers to my empty tummy. There'd actually been a Fogo trip back in Houston, but only for caitalainn, her family, and a few other hangers-on.

I enjoyed her family, by the way. The came in two contrasting pairs. Most akin to caitalainn herself was her brother, with his dyed hair, broad smile, and confident, irreverent banter. Their father represented a more mature version of this personality type: Gregarious and outgoing, but in a more restrained, discreet fashion which complimented his lined face and white hair. Both projected the kind of easy confidence that I've grown accustomed to seeing in her over the past few years. Her father even kicked off his shoes and took a nap!

Her sister and mother, with their natural dark hair and conservative clothes, both struck a shyer note. I can hardly remember a word from Mom, although I'm pretty sure I did amuse a smile out of her once over the weekend. Her sister I remembered from a delightful dinner at monshu's in the early months of our relationship. (caitalainn had mentioned to me that no man had ever given her flowers, which deeply offended my sense of propriety, so, that night, I had the distinction of being the first.) She was standing next to her mother when I bounced on up to chat with her and I found the resemblance in attitude--down to their slightly stiff and formal bearing--striking. I don't think I spoke more than a few sentences to her over the weekend.

Amid the despatch of skewer-wielding gaúchos, our conversation last night was correspondingly lively. We discussed politics, of course, both immediate and international. Even though the restaurant is close to my home and spookyfruit offered to drop me off, I stayed in the fabulous red Colt for the ride back to their place in order to keep the conversation going. We ended up sitting on the front steps in the warm evening, sipping a sauterne and gazing at the stars. When I finally did make noises about heading home, welcomerain offered me another ride. As so often, we talked about the craziness of families. (I liked her observation about the contradiction of a highly individualistic culture that nevertheless demands family togetherness for the holidays.)

I don't remember much about my dreams. I must've dreamt of meat.

Comments

[bunj.livejournal.com]

We Fogo'ed last night with -e's parents, sister and brother-in-law. I'm still full. MIL will be happy to hear you had the hearts of palm. She was lamenting that everyone was ignoring them. She's also the only person I've seen eat a strictly vegetarian Fogo dinner (which isn't much cheaper, but they do give you a discount).

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Caipira! Why didn't you call me? I could've gone down in history as the only guy in our circle to fogo two nights in a row! (That is, until I bragged about it to spookyfruit and he went every night for a week, just to remind everyone who's alpha male around here.)

[bunj.livejournal.com]

I do not want to be the cause of a dangerous meat war between you and Spookyfruit, so it's probably just as well. As it is, I didn't need to eat at all yesterday, but I was forced, against my will, to eat homemade lasagna last night with a '95 Muga. My in-laws can be so cruel.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

I would be more filled with sympathy right now had Monshu not forced grilled salmon with saffron rice and a '00 Macabeu on me last night. Be strong, brother; you're not alone.