On the town in Webberville

Our Grandson Lemon Joe is spending a couple of days with us. Last night he refused to sleep, so we watched the third period of the Red Wings together as he fussed and resisted, but finally, when the Red Wings won, the kid fell asleep. The timing was perfect, but the hour was late.

We went to Webberville to pick the kid up and while there, we went to the local brewpub for supper. I'm not making judgments about the quality of the quaff, I can leave that to others in the family who know more about beer, but I can say this: If you're looking for a nice meal, keep looking elsewhere. This was some of the worst food I ever have known to be served in a brewpub.

And there was a certain barmaid who flunked waitress school, evidently, but received a job anyway, perhaps in the nature of a mercy hiring. We tipped her generously, but now wonder why.

All of this ordeal could be blamed on Alice. She is the one with all the bad luck, and she claims if we had not taken her along, the food would have been better and the waitress more competent.