Sunday, August 1, 2010

My Big Fat Greek Weekend

Down the street from us is a Greek restaurant, The Akropolis. As a break from cleaning/readying the house for the floor refinishers, we headed to The Akropolis for lunch. After we had ordered our two gyro sandwiches, the adorable older Greek guy (the owner?) behind the counter asked me when boy was due.

Surprised, I said, "How did you know it was a boy?"

"Oh, when woman craves gyro, it's a boy guaranteed."

What's strange about this is the only real craving I had--meaning more than "Oh, I could go for X right now," and more like my body got me by the throat and informed me that I would find the object of my craving within the next 10 minutes or there would be hell to pay--was for shawarma, back in my first trimester.

I told the adorable old guy about that, and he nodded knowingly. "Guaranteed, every time. My son, he had two daughters. Third time, I told him to feed gyro to his wife. That one, too," he said, indicating the guy slicing up the shawarma behind the counter. "That's how he got son. It's guaranteed. We have women stop here on way home from hospital to show it's true! They have boy baby for proof."

I asked him what women crave when it's a girl. "For next time?" he asked. I nodded. "Anything but gyro!"

Then he nodded at J and said, "Husband is beating his chest with fists now, eh?"

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