I have little say in what we eat when. Because I am going to a local WW meeting tomorrow, I don’t want a big meal tonight. Especially since this has already been a very bad week of eating. But no one else is worried about what they are eating, and no one wants to cook. So it’s announced that we are going to Crabapples.
Crabapples, like the small satellite library in North Falmouth, has crazy hours. The library down the street is open Monday and Friday from 2 to 7, and 10-12 on Wednesday, making it near impossible to remember when you can pick up or return a book. Similarly, Crabapples, a very busy local restaurant, is only open Thursdays through Saturdays for dinner, but everyday for breakfast and lunch. Even during the busy summer months. Obviously this family-owned restaurant is not interested in maximizing revenue, or they would be open for dinner every night. You cannot make a reservation and there is always a wait of at least 15 minutes, regardless of when you arrive. The impossibly small parking lot is always full. The service is good, even if some of the waitresses are a bit crass. Like the one tonight who loudly declared her disappointment with the $5 tip left by a party of four. The décor is Cape Cod kitschy-lots of shells and buoys. And the clientele tends to skew old. The six people at the table next to ours all had either a cane or a walker.
I desperately want to order the fried clams, but opt instead for the Grilled Seafood Medley, consisting of swordfish, shrimp, and one crabcake. I steal a few of Jean's fries, and leave feeling that I've eaten too much.
I expect my weigh-in tomorrow to be unpleasant. I think about skipping the meeting all together, but I probably will go. I just hope I haven't gained more than two pounds since my last meeting 10 days ago.
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