Chilly's

Thursday was one of those slow, serene mornings that drifted unintentionally into afternoon: the kind of day when you say, "I guess we should eat some breakfast," before you realize it's already one o'clock, so you mosey on over to a lunch place. We decided on Chili's, because Jimmy likes the Quesadilla Explosion salad, and the Guiltless Black Bean Burger rings my chimes.

Except for Jimmy and me, Chili's was filled with scantily (but tastefully, for the most part) clad college kids with metabolisms in overdrive, and we didn't have the heart to ask them to crank the thermostat up to a warmer 65 degrees, so we shivered in silence.

There was a bench by the door as we went out, and enticed by the warmth of the sun heating our chilled bones, we plopped down on it like a couple of old moss backed turtles, sunning on a favorite log.