We spent the weekend in the northern 'burbs of the Windy City. We were there for the occasion of my granddaughter's baptism. We enjoyed a nice dinner at a Mexican chain restaurant Saturday night with my son-in-law's family. I was a very good boy and swallowed my snark along with my enchiladas. My normal smart-ass was smothered in salsa. In other words, I was "work" Joe as opposed to every day Joe. What a good boy am I. But there was really no occasion for Mr. Asshole to make an appearance.
The granddaughter was a perfect angel for the ceremony itself. She fell asleep just as church started. She opened her eyes as the Pastor poured the water over her head, but she uttered nary a peep and went straight back to sleep. Church service went well, lightning did not strike the steeple due to my presence or anything like that.
After church we went to my SIL's sister's home for brunch. Then the wife and I saddled up and returned home. After unpacking, all of the talk of pie day got me jonesing for some pie, and the wife, sweet thing she is, went down to the store and scored us a pecan pie. It is not homemade, but it is pie. Pie. Pie. Pie. I think I'll go have a slice for breakfast.