The last gasp

It seems lately that all of my friends are enjoying the fine cuisine at Charlie Trotter's. The other day JCA took her mentor out for a celebratory meal. Another friend was treated to a fancy birthday dinner a couple of weeks ago (you see, this is why I need a boyfriend). The summer before I started law school I worked as a waitress at a nice (not Charlie Trotter-nice, but still a good bet for a fancy evening) restaurant. Before I left, the head chef stressed to me that I must eat at Charlie Trotter's before leaving Chicago. "It's crazy expensive," he explained, "but it's worth it. That was the best meal I ate in my life. His food makes mine look like puppy chow." I promised to make the effort.

Now, nearly three years later I realize I haven't made good on that promise. My parents are flying out for my graduation (awww) so the other day I suggested to my mom that Charlie Trotter's might be a nice place for a graduation dinner (this has the added benefit of co-opting my dad into treating. Score!). She promised to try to convince my dad.

So tonight I thought, for fun, I'd take a look at the website. I went first to general information, which recommended that you make reservations ten to twelve weeks in advance for weekends. Wow, I thought, that's a lot of time. I calculated forward to graduation weekend to figure out how close I would be cutting it if I made reservations next week, and then it hit me: graduation is less than ten weeks away! In less than three months, I will be a law school graduate. With any luck, a few months after that I can call myself a legitimate California lawyer. Wow. Life can really creep up on you.

Now, instead of thinking sobering thoughts, I think I'll watch Saturday Night Live.