They just jumped into my bag, honest!

So last night Lee and I went out for dinner. We like going out for dinner on Friday nights because sometimes we're just too tired/lazy to cook. We don't do it every Friday night but if there is any night of the week that we're likely to eat out it's Friday. This week we tried The Foolish Chicken following Laurie's recommendation on a discussion about pulled pork sandwiches on Twitter. Verdict? Great onion rings. Very solid pulled pork sandwich with a lovely sweet bbq sauce. Excellent chicken (though they need to dial down the liquid smoke in their dipping sauce). The ribs, though tasty, are the smallest half rack I've ever seen. They were *tiny*. We're spoiled though. You have to try really hard to have better ribs than the Bar-B-Barn (warning, link plays audio) in Montreal.

Why am I talking about all of this on a book blog? Well, the restaurant is a half block away from Collected Works. (I do all my preorders through them now. They rock.) Since it was so close and I hadn't been there just to browse in months (I usually just pick up my orders/holds and leave) I figured it was time. I almost got out before buying anything. I blame Lee. When I went to tell him I was ready to go he was standing in the history section. My book buying defenses go to dust faster than a vampire Buffy's slayed when I'm in the history section.

The result? I came home with The Irregulars: Roald Dahl and the British Spy Ring in Wartime Washington by Jennet Conant and The Occupied Garden by Tracy Kasaboski.

I swear they just jumped into my bag of their own free will. Bookstores are dangerous places.