Mr. Big Food’s Dad called at 5pm asking if we were going to be watching a few episodes of the first season on The Mary Tylor Moore show– as we had last evening– and I replied that we would not be on account of the fact that Mr. Big Food was grilling shiskibabas (sp). Served with curried rice salad and humus. And it was going to rain.

This was met with very little enthusiasm. Americanized Indian/Middle Eastern food is outside of the In-Laws comfort zone.

And then it rained. With Hail. There’s nothing quite like the sound of hail on a tin roof.

It’s less than two minutes. you must watch. It orients properly when you click.

And then we had a delightful dinner during which the In-Laws attitudes toward steak and onion and peppers and mushrooms marinated in a curry seasoned somethingorother changed and they ate a lot.

And then they trudged back up the Hill to The Apartment.

And then.

Mr. Big Food asked what movie we’d like to watch. We kicked around a few ideas and settled on wanting to watch a light-hearted comedy.

Sleepless in Seattle? Shop Around the Corner? You’ve Got Mail.

Nope. I went back to the Bunkhouse to see what was on offer.

DIRTY DANCING!!

Mr. Big Food said, “I haven’t seen that in years.”

And so. On 60 acres, Mr. Big Food scooted over and we occupied a 3×6′ space and watched Dirty Dancing.