Anyways, they meet up on Tuesdays, and this year I made it back for their special Christmas edition. Every year, they go to a place in Bellevue, Nebraska, called the Summer Kitchen and exchange gifts. It's no Butterfinger Pancakes (which I'm hoping to tell you about after the return portion of my trip to Korea), but after nearly deciding to get pancakes anyways, I went for their Santa Fe omelette, which was served with hash browns. The omelette was delicious, and although I would have liked the hash browns to have more flavor, they were sufficiently un-potato like to be edible.
And my mom went for the scrambled eggs and ham (I would not, could not, in a car, I would not, could not near or far!) and cinnamon roll. I tried a bite of the cinnamon roll, but was not tempted in the least - having a Cinnabon in UB makes me impervious to at least that stateside temptation.
After breakfast came the gifts. Some were crafty. Some were covered in shit tons of glitter (a fact that I decided I could use to nefarious purposes after the fact by telling my mom's friends they had "something on your face" and then rubbing a glitter covered finger on their cheeks). My mom's gift shows that she has the same propensity for evilness that I do, which is kind of alarming in spite of the fact that it is probably where I get it from. She bought her friends a fan (for their hot flashes), a copy of "Magic Mike," and a tube of lube, among other things. The Santa headbands they're wearing were also part of their gift. I'm just glad she didn't buy them all the Fifty Shades trilogy, but then, they've all read it already. Even my mom, which is the most disturbing thing of all.