A low point of the vacation was going to Lafayette, Louisiana and not being able to find good cajun food.
My sister-in-law took us to her usual place--Guidry's. Guidry is a great Cajun name. I even used it in Furnace Angel, my horror short story that crossed reality TV with Cajun folklore.
Guidry's was closed for a week or so. Sis-in-law could not think of another great Cajun place and neither could a friend she called. So we ate Greek food at the restaurant beside the hotel.
The food was great. Julia and I got a sampler platter that had some dolmades, hummus, tabouli, spiced lamb and spiced chicken. My 19 year old got an eggplant stuffed with other veggies--I warned him that it was a bold move. He hated it. My other two kids got stuff they liked. Sis-in-law hated feta cheese and hummus and could barely eat the shrimp--she didn't like the spices.
But the real high point was the laugh I got from my 11 year old.
A belly dancer performed. Nice.
The 11 year old was embarassed. He tucked his head into the neck of his shirt like a turtle. As the belly dancer was walking away, the waitress came up to the table and asked us if we needed anything else.
The 11 year old tentatively stuck his head up out of his shirt and said in a quavering voice, "Therapy."