Daddy was out adjusting his sprinklers. He wanted to make sure that when you walked on the sidewalk, the person walking would get wet. He succeeded. I'm not sure what the shovel was for though, probably to fill in cave-ins for the vast tunnel system they built.
We walked up to Ventura and had dinner at the Coral Tree Cafe. Now, why would they call it Cafe when they don't serve you? You go to the counter and give them your order. If you want water, then there is a counter for that with thin plastic picnic cups to drink out of and you place a number on the table you selected and wait for the food to be brought to you. What gets me is that everywhere there are hints for a tip. There is a tip jar, a line on the credit card receipt to add a tip and no service other than to bring your food and wrapped utensils. They don't ask if you would like anything else, they don't do squat, so you're to tip for what? taking your order at the counter and pointing to where you get your water? Bringing the food to a table that has a number on it?
And here's a kicker, a woman comes in and orders, she then goes and sits outside and lights up a cigarette. Writes in a pad while she smokes and when the wine is brought to her she sniffs it. After a sip or two and some more sniffs and a few puffs on her cigarette, she takes the wine back in and wants a different red. Okay, how could someone who smokes know one red from the other? Unless of course you put salt and pepper in the glass.
Another young gal, blah-blahing on her cell phone almost breaks her neck trying to navigate the two steps down from the door while talking on the cell. Without breaking a syllable, she rights herself and continues on.
A cafe, really?
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