Afghan Food?

Terry asked me earlier this afternoon if I wanted to meet Steve in town for dinner. Sure. But then he comes down and tells me they want to go to "the Afghan restaurant". I have no idea what that is. What do they eat in Afghanistan? Goats? Rocks? It's enough trouble to pack up the boy and go all the way in to town for dinner that I'm not in the mood to deal with it for mediocre food. Steve is TERRIBLE at picking out restaurants. I think a big part of it is that he's vegetarian (although I think he eats some fish now) and he'll pick some place just because they have one vegetarian dish that he likes, but that doesn't mean their real food is any good. Plus, he doesn't mind shouting across the table, so he'll pick loud places, too. Terry and I don't do that.

So I'm opting out. I'll just stay at home with William, Terry can go out with Steve, whatever. I'm not sure what I'll eat for dinner, though. I'm leaning toward a few glasses of wine and some microwave popcorn. Just like old times! It's the sort of dinner that fills me up and leaves me in a good mood, but that Terry won't let me eat if he catches me. So I'll wait until he's out of the house to fire up the microwave. . .