How to build a flower

So a few weeks ago, my grandparents invited me to dinner. My grandfather called me up one day and invited me for food the next day. Now, every time we get together, there's somebody else there. Every time they invite me over, my aunt or cousin or uncle or great aunt or great uncle or some friends of theirs or some combination thereof will also be there, making it a group event, and keeping me from just spending time with my grandparents. I've actually once tried to spend time with just them--it was the first time I called and asked to come over. When I got there, my great aunt and uncle were there. I didn't mind so much, because I like them a lot, and I don't know dinner with just my grandparents would be (potentially a little awkward). When I got the call the other week, though, my grandfather very specifically mentioned "there's no lineup of people; it'll be just us the three of us." I was looking forward to it, out of curiosity, largely.

When I got there, we spent a little time watching Olympic coverage, and then I was told we were going out to a restaurant to meet some friend of theirs. I wasn't surprised, really. We were going to an Italian Place in Mountain View called Frankie, Johnnie And Luigi, Too!. We were to be dining with a couple: Bob and Antoinette, along with a man who apparently is simply called "The Doc." I was really looking forward to meeting this guy. When we got to the restaurant, my expectations about the man with the mysterious appellation. He was a white-haired shorter, older man hunched over a can, wearing thick-rimmed glasses and inspecting things with a fittingly somewhat evil-looking appraisal, especially when he was having trouble hearing something. It turns out he was really nice, as with everybody there.

After we had some nice delicious dinner (I had chicken fettuccine alfredo), we were sitting around chatting in our nice little corner booth. When we got there, the place was crowded, but by the time we were finished eating, it was pretty much cleared. While we were idling, I did what I usually do at restaurants: make a flower from a napkin. It's something I learned a long time ago in a book called "The Giant Book of Sneaky Feats," which is very literally a book teaching the reader how to be a show-off. From it, I also learned how to slice a banana without disturbing the peel.

I had had some dessert, and as a result, I had an ornate glass goblet, on which I placed my flower. That's the furthest I usually go. This time, though, I had Antoinette encourage me to continue on. The final product was pleasing to me. We happened to have a sugar cube from somebody's coffee order, and also some cherry stems from my ice cream. While we were waiting to be seated, I knocked a toothpick from the holder, and stuck it in my pocket, so I had that to carve a little hole into the sugar cube, into which I stuck the cherry stems. I set that on the flower and sprinkled some yellow pepper flakes over the result, giving me the best restaurant flower I've ever made. Whee.