Be careful

My friend Amy told me a funny story recently. For this to be a funny story, you have to know that Amy gets up early every morning to head to work (one of her jobs) at the Back Porch. She makes all the desserts that are served there, and they are marvelous (in my humble opinion). One of Amy's other jobs is waitressing at the Flying Melon.

Okay, so now you have the background, here's the story. On Saturday night, Amy was waitressing at the Flying Melon and a couple came in somewhat late. The restaurant was still open, but it was just late-ish for dinner. The couple explained to Amy that they had just eaten at the Back Porch, but they had come to the Flying Melon for dessert because "none of the desserts at the Back Porch appealed to us". Oops. Of course, they couldn't have possibly known that they were opening mouths and inserting feet, and Amy certainly didn't hold it against them. She also kindly chose not to explain to them that she was the one who had made those desserts at the Back Porch.

It was just a funny, small town kind of story, and it reminded me that when you live (or vacation) in a small town, you just never know if the person you are commenting to about, for example, the "strange" spelling of a sandwich name on a menu, is the person for whom the sandwich is named. (That's an example I personally witnessed.)

If by some twist of fate, one of the people who went to Flying Melon and commented to Amy about Back Porch dessert options is reading this blog (and wouldn't that be perfectly poetic?), please don't be offended. I really don't intend to make fun. We've all tasted our own feet, figuratively speaking. I once asked someone how his wife was doing, because I hadn't heard that she had run away with another man and left him. Talk about whoops!

Hope you don't put your foot in your mouth too often, wherever you are...