It's a slow news week around here as our spring break is pretty lackluster compared to my Facebook newsfeed brimming with friends in ski suits, hugging Mickey Mouse, and sailing past Lady Liberty.  We, Millers, are over here like, "Hey, y'all......well, today we got up late, shagged some balls, watched a little television, and walked the dog."  Sure, it doesn't make for impressive pictures or lend itself to the making of a social media album entitled "Spring Break '14", but we're pretty content. 

Tonight, we all went out to eat.  My sweet friend had given us a gift card to a nice restaurant, here in town, so we all got shined up and off we went.  It's always nice to enjoy a quiet, civilized dinner out at a place where meals aren't ordered by a number and the fish isn't square.  We enjoyed each other's company and laughed a whole lot.  It also occurred to me tonight as we scoured the menu that each of us has our own approach to food selection. 

Blair, our nutrition major.....well, you don't want to go eat anywhere with her.  She's all about the calories and how long she'll have to work out when she gets home.  It's as much fun as going to eat with your cardiologist or Jenny Craig counselor might be.  She was typing in entrees on her Calorie King app to check their fat content and raising her brow when you mentioned the alfredo had made your short list.  I felt like I was watching a rerun of the "Scary Restaurant Secrets Revealed" episode of the Dr. Oz Show.  When her entrée came, she immediately sectioned off the portion that she would allow herself to enjoy tonight, leaving the rest to add to tomorrow's caloric intake.  Let's just say that when she finished her allotted portion, it looked like a sick bird had pecked on it a couple of times just before it died.   

Carson, he's our picky eater.  He has about five things that he'll eat, so he comes into a restaurant looking for your basics.....burgers, pizza, chicken strips.  "Can we just go by Chick-fil-a on our way home?" he whined as he looked over the mouthwatering menu.  He doesn't yet appreciate dining in establishments where the eating utensils don't come in a cellophane package with your salt, pepper, and napkin.  There's no way to really elaborate on that any further.

I, myself, select my food based on how good it tastes going down.  Self-deprivation is not really one of my gifts when it comes to food.  I'm drawn to the juicy cuts of beef, pastas with cream sauces, and anything with cheese....lots of cheese.  Sure, I hear the little voice in my head cautioning me of our family's history of high cholesterol and yes, I see Blair's critical gaze from over the top of her menu, but I am weak.  The waiter, who's seen a lot of plates in his time, was quite impressed with my prowess at the table and the valiant effort I gave toward finishing my generously portioned dish.  He looked at my plate and then at Blair's practically undisturbed plate and said, "See....you, young people, don't know how to eat.  Your mother's generation knows how to eat."  I'm sure he meant that in the most complimentary way. 

Davis, he's more of a numbers man.  Give him a menu and he's looking at the figures.  When he spots the lowest price on the entire menu, he's found what he's craving.  "Yes, I'll have the $18.95 with a side of whatever is complimentary and water....the free kind from the sink and keep the bread coming."  I know him like the back of my hand.  If he's craving steak, he'll get the steak sandwich for, as you'll notice, when something is placed between a bun, it is much cheaper.  After everyone is finished eating, his eyes circle the plates on the table like a buzzard, seeing if he can possibly piece together a meal for the next day.   

That was our activity for the night and those were my observations.  It's what spring break dreams are made of, really, but understand that my intent is never to flaunt our lavish lifestyle....it's just who we are.  Stay tuned.  Spring break is just getting started.