Sore Feet

Two days ago Dad's truck broke down while returning from giving Kathy Bertsch a blessing before her surgery this week. We ended up walking home. Both Dad and I were wearing stiff shoes, one's that were not meant for walking. Dad got his blister on the back of his heel and I got them on the bottom of my feet. We were going out to dinner with the Outback card that Annie and Adam had given me for Mother's Day, so we plodded on to accomplish that task. However, the directions on the internet were not making sense to either of us and we had a bit of a goose chase finding the one in Cupertino. At last we arrived and ordered. My Prime Rib was not done enough or even warm so I sent it back once only to have it return just a bit darker than the first and still only luke warm. The waiter asked if I wanted it sent back again. I said right out that I didn't want anyone's spit on it so I would keep it. The cook came out at the end of the dinner and comped my meal which was good, but embarrassing. The night ended with both Gene and I disconcerted.