I grew up in a small-ish farming community. People drive by your house and honk (probably because they are related to you). You wave at the person driving the tractor that you're passing on the road (and see it's your dad or grandpa). You can see the stars at night. Your dad shoots bottle rockets at you when you're out late looking at said stars with friends. And, you go to the Pine Cone for lunch.
Think of a small truck stop diner set in the middle of a bunch of fields and you've got the Pine Cone.
We went down to Albany for a quick little visit today and David said we needed to take Daphne on her first visit to this fine establishment.
She loved it. But then, she does love any place that provides pickles. For some reason she thought it would be a great idea to start smearing the pickle all over her face and head. And since we were all hooting and hollering with laughter over this, she just kept right on smearing. It was weird.
It was nice that her bangs crusted over with pickle juice.
My favorite thing about the Pine Cone is that there is a big fish on the wall that my grandma caught in Mexico in 1995. I love that she is famous enough to have her fish hanging on the wall of the Pine Cone. I mean, no one else can say that about their grandma.
We stopped by Daphne's grandpa's work for a bit, and I just had to share this picture of Daphne hanging out by the wall. She just scooted over and started licking it. Also very weird.
So between the pickle and the wall I would say Daphne had a pretty good day.