Family dinner

I know, I know… it may seem like I’m losing interest in this blogging joint. It is slightly frustrating that I can’t access my blog at work. But that’s really my bad because I just can’t stop swearing. Stupid work webmarshal. Thinks he can control my web access. Hah.

Anywho, so last night we did family dinner with Joyces. The Joyces are the family that we’ve chosen to call our family. Does that makes sense? If not, you’re not alone in your confusion. Boet and I refer to the two girls as our sisters and they refer to us as their siblings. Very confusing when we introduce them to people who’ve known us for years...
“But Koekie, I thought you only had one brother?”
“I do. And these are my two sisters…”
We’ve known each other since birth, we went to school together, any serious relationships have been forced to run the ‘extended’ family gauntlet. If they handle a dinner (in public) with the two families, they are permitted to stay.

I digress. So we went out for supper with the Joyces. Did you know that at Bright Water Commons (formerly known as the Randburg Waterfront or Drugs Haven), there is a Greek restaurant that serves sushi?

Seriously, this is an amazing find – a restaurant where I can eat seaweed and then break plates while people cheer and shout OPA! It’s like they had me in mind when they made the combination.

The sushi itself wasn’t the best I’ve had, but they’re Greek and all the right elements were there. I give them points for trying. Having made friends with the big greasy Greek, they put on Zorba The Greek and (after a round of sangria and ouzo) we attempted a touch of step-step-hop-step-hop Greek dancing. It was messy. Ours was probably more like step-hop-*hic*-hop-step-*hic*…

And then we got to break the plates. A seasoned plate-thrower will do this with a touch of style: a flick of the wrist (puts nice spin on the plate in mid-air), a casual and unenthusiastic ‘Opa’ just in case anyone is listening, while knocking back a shot of ouzo with the other hand. Boet went for the less conventional double-handed smashdown… raising his plate above his head and enthusiastically smashing it down on the ground, then jumping up and down on it just to make sure it was broken. Spectacular.

So, a restaurant where you can sushi, sangria and break plates. Multinational. I think we should nominate them for the next UN convention.

Right at the end of the evening I went to the loo… don’t worry, this not going to be one of those overshares. I returned downstairs to an empty restaurant. Not just empty. Lights off, tables packed up and put away. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been THAT long…

I looked outside, there was no sign of the rest of the party. Surreal. I started strolling along in bewilderment until I spotted my family – the whole bloody lot – hiding underneath tables and behind pillars, stifling their giggles.

Seriously people, this is dinner with the Joyces.