February 8, 2012: Slats

            On my way home from Home Depot, I stopped in Warren and scooped up my Aunt Mary Jane Guliano, and took her to Café 422 for lunch. Around here, Café 422 is legendary; it’s been around since the 40s and everyone eats here. I had the eggplant parmesan. I’m determined to eat like a pig while I’m here because, once I get back toPhoenix, I’ve got to dump about 40 pounds. I am a cow.

            Mary Jane isn’t really my aunt; she’s my second cousin—my father’s mother’s sister’s daughter, and one of many family members who once lived at 611 Fenton Street, which I now own. In fact, she grew up in that house. I never call her Aunt Mary Jane or even Mary Jane; I call her Slats, as that’s the nickname my dad gave her sometime in the 1930s. No one remembers why.

            As we were leaving 422, Mary Jane said to me, “You know, I tell you things that I’ve never told anyone before in my life.” And I thought, “But everything you told me today I’ve heard seven times before.” I didn’t say so, though. That would have been bitchy.

Thing I Hate Today: When restaurants don’t have anchovies for their Caesar salads. Seriously: How much room does a tin of anchovies take up?


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