February 2

This morning, I took the kiddos to school, swung by Sbux for my caffeine fix, and headed back home so Adam and I could drive southward. He took a several-hours-long pit stop at his office while I wandered around the Great Mall in Milpitas, and then we got to the real business of the day: driving to Carmel for the weekend. Without the kids (who are staying with his parents).

Once we finally hit the road it was an uneventful drive that featured plenty of bumper to bumper traffic and a few impassioned choruses of popular '80s songs. We eventually checked into our lovely suite --the exact same one we stayed in back in November of 2015, as it happens-- and then headed out to dinner.

We initially planned to have dinner where we had it on arrival night in 2015, but when we got there, we found that the restaurant had closed. So we had to make a quick game-time decision on an alternate destination, and wound up at the very close-by Cultura. We sat in a corner by a pair of windows, and enjoyed chit-chatting and watching patrons repeatedly attempt to enter the restaurant where there wasn't actually a door. (It was funnier in person.)

And then the food came, and I was completely flummoxed by my "chicken enchiladas", which seemed to feature a plate of cheese and random veggies and nothing that really resembled chicken. I had a few bites, laughed when Adam suggested I ask for a map, and finally gave up after I accepted that I just didn't like it at all.

The server was awesome: she apologized profusely, whisked it away, insisted on bringing me a pair of chicken tacos instead, and then didn't charge us for any of my food. I told her --repeatedly-- that all was well and that different people have different palates and I was fine, but she really went out of her way to make sure I had a good experience.

Anyway, it was great to have some time to spend with just Adam since we so rarely get away together and I'm looking forward to the rest of the weekend. But what I want to say here relates back to grace. I saw a flash of panic in the server's eyes when I told her I didn't like the food. For a split second she even flinched, as if she thought I might say something harsh. I didn't, of course, because that's not the right thing to do and it wasn't her fault anyway, but it says quite a lot about society that I could see that momentary hold-your-breath-and-brace-yourself response pass over her face. It often takes very little effort or personal sacrifice to offer someone else an ounce of grace. So the next time someone else --be it your spouse or your kid or a friend or a complete stranger-- does something that grates against your sensibilities, give 'em some. It's free to give and you'll probably never know how much it's appreciated.