Dine Around

I'm on a roll!  Yesterday, I spent several hours continuing the garage clean-up.  I emptied the wheelbarrow (plastic), then rolled it to the back of the house and used the hose to wash it thoroughly.  Pulled out the dozen or so earthenware plant containers and discovered half had dirt in them, so had to dump.  Some are so big and heavy I had to use the handtruck to move them. Discovered an army duffel bag with a government issue canteen and raincoat in it.  It's marked "Byrne," so was surely one of my brothers'.  I wonder if its worth anything.  Will keep for now, I guess.
After I threw in the towel (there's plenty more to do, which I'll tackle today), I ran over to the bank to get money for Dine Around, and to Acme for cottage cheese.  Jumped in the shower, dressed, and went to Vepusio's.
I hadn't been there since a Dine Around of a year or so ago, and doubt if I will be again.  The amenities could be rated on a scale from mediocre to dumpster level: uninspired décor with mundane pics of Tuscany on one wall and, inexplicably, a gigantic bas-relief eagle on another; so-so food--I had a blah veal piccata; and service that was absolutely abysmal.  There were three casually dressed (pedal pushers and skin-tight tank tops on the chubbiest) female servers.  They were pleasant enough, but the salad and soup (canned broth and canned vegetables indifferently thrown together) weren't even served until 6:30 (we had arrived an hour earlier) and there were long waits between courses.  What's worse, the cardinal sin of service was committed: Our table (I sat with Betty W., Doris H., Anna P.) got our entrees first and we finished eating long before two other tables were served.  This prompted hostess Mary Ann V. to ask that desserts be delayed until those tables were finished and until after her silly, question and answer game.  It was so noisy most of us couldn't hear it anyway, and she had obviously gotten the content from a dumb Internet site ("Bore Your Guests With Obscure Questions").  They included such gems as "Where in his house did W.C. Fields keep his library?"  Answer: His bathroom.)       
Anyhow, I cut out after a few minutes of that, saying I didn't want to miss my daughter's weekly Skype call and skipping the cannoli dessert, which I dislike anyway.  Home at 7:30 and had a nice chat with Ellen.