Since yesterday was our work day, we went out to dinner last night. One of Becky and my favorite places is The Original Roadhouse Grill which the kids hadn’t been to before. It was a nice meal and the kids enjoyed the whole eat-the-peanut-and-throw-the-shell-on-the-floor thing.

While we were there, there were at least three different birthdays at nearby tables. At Roadhouse, like most restauraunts, the servers come by and bring you a piece of cake and sing a little birthday song before getting back to their normal stations.

The problem, tough, is that the singing is very anemic. This is not a complaint specifically about Roadhouse as it is often the case at other restauraunts, too. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the problem. The servers are busy with their own customers, they feel a bit foolish when singing, and part of them probably doesn’t want to embarass the guest. My opinion (like you wanted it) is that if you can’t muster the energy to sing with some sincerity, don’t bother and just give ’em the cake.

We have a tradition in our family. One Saturday a month (although we aren’t terribly consistant with that), we work. What that means is we do whatever needs to be done around the house, cleaning, straightening, various projects, etc. No playing, just work. At the end of the day, if enough work is done (which seems to always happen), we go out to dinner.

Yesterday was our first work day in a bit. I worked on finishing the garage (I’m getting closer, but will probably need another weekend or two to get it all done) and Becky and the kids worked on cleaning the loft (purging old toys, puzzles, and games, mostly).

It worked out pretty well. The kids didn’t want to give up their toys even though we were paying $1-a-bag for donatable items. Becky and I will probably get rid of the bottom layer of toys the next time they are away.