So my father-in-law turned the big 5-2 on Tuesday. In celebration, we drove Neil's new Mercedes (a 90's boat of a car we've nicknamed Air Force One for all the gadgets) to Couer D'Alene and had some of the best steak I've ever set my knife to at The Wolf Lodge. It's this very rustic, no-frills restaurant, where you watch the cook wrestling with the steaks on the grill in the middle of the room. The kind of place for real men, who have never tasted quiche. The kind of place where (I kid you not) when two men almost bump bellies passing on the way to the john, they literally close their eyes, scrunch their foreheads, and grunt at each other while nodding their heads. During my visit to the restroom, I was reading the many scribbles etched into the walls of my cozy cabin stall. Most were of the "J + K" persuasion. Like hundreds of them. The very last one I saw read, "I think my date is gay...waah!"
A good time was had by all.
