Staying Put in Upton

For what reasons do we risk our precious lives? Saving small children, defending our country, eating delicious Middle Eastern food. Yesterday evening, Mother met me at my apartment and, after piling on layers of outerwear in various shades of black and grey, we set off down the street for a dinner at El Basha. To our dismay, there was no sidewalk and we were forced to trek slowly along the slick ice which currently coats the sloping area adjacent to the road. We finally came to the intersection of Route 9 and Lake Avenue, and successfully crossed. We were greeted by holiday-lit palm trees, a ceiling painted blue with fluffy white clouds, and attentive wait staff (because we were the only people there). After ordering some merlot and raising a glass to our dear Katie, we discussed relevant issues such as Memere’s hair color and our predispositions for assuming that people have good intentions. We supped on flavorful hummus, Greek salad, kibbee, stuffed grape leaves, and falafel. After topping it off with a moist yet flaky piece of baklava, we argued over who should pull the car around front. It seemed we needed to walk back. Strong women that we are, we waited in the cold for the walk sign to flash, crossed Route 9 once again, and chose to forgo the icy slopes in favor of the road itself since rush hour had subsided.