Would You Like Fries With That?

Last week I was reading about successful blogs (you know, the ones with more than 20 readers each week) and the writer said that anything worth doing was worth doing every day. While I understood her point, I can think of quite a few things that are worth doing but that I don’t necessarily want to do every day. Furthermore, while I personally find the lives of my children endlessly fascinating, I’m not sure anybody else would want to read about the latest and greatest of the Fritz Four on a daily basis. That said, I have been trying to post at least once a week and today, in order to avoid an altogether too honest account of the fact that we’re still in the little yellow house that Coulter describes as“ really dusty and with lots of nails” or that I need to look for a job and the going rate for piano teachers in Fremont is great if you’re a parent (uhm, not so great if you’re a teacher,) I offer you the ever so random (and perhaps not the least bit interesting) story of McDonald’s and the Whopper:


When it comes to fast food, I’m, oh, how should we say, just a wee bit snobbish? It’s not that I’m uber healthy; it’s just that I don’t like to eat food that doesn’t taste good. I could easily eat an entire bag of Hostess mini-powdered donuts, but ask me to meet you at McDonalds and I’m gonna turn up my nose. I’ve been known to take a sack lunch when Mc Donald’s was on the menu and the truth is I’m ashamed that Mc Donald’s is ever on the menu because it means that at some point my husband or I (and because it’s my blog, I’m gonna go with my husband) introduced my children to The Happy Meal. Of all the foods that my children won’t eat, it’s astounding to me that they willingly and eagerly eat hamburgers from McDonalds and chicken nuggets that have been pressed together to look like crowns from Burger King. I’m no health expert, but I get the strong feeling that it’s not real meat, and I mean how many chickens have you seen walking a runway? I’m sure one could argue that powdered donuts aren’t real food either, but I’ll take my chances. A seriously low point was when Coulter was about three. I had made actual, real-beef hamburgers for supper. He took a few bits and then innocently looked up at me and said, “Mom, maybe next time you could get the recipe from McDonald’s.”

Equally astounding to me is that a junk piece of toy could garner so much excitement. Again, not trying to be an expert or anything, but I don’t know how many more plastic super-mans and talking chipmunks that our land-fill can take. And how is it that after months of gathering dust in a toy bucket, you finally managed to get those suckers shipped off to Goodwill, when all of a sudden your child goes berserk-o because he can’t find Alvin.

Now, just like I’m open to eating a good donut (or two,) I would be a total hypocrite to imply that I never eat fast food. I love Chick-fil-A and Braums, although you rarely see the former and never see the later in the Midwest and I will also admit to an occasional cheese coney from Sonic, but that was way in my past and quite frankly, I’d rather not think about it, let alone talk (or write) about it.

So this past weekend, while visiting friends in Sioux Falls and cleaning out the last of our ever so lovely, completely huge home with cherrywood cabinets and beautiful landscaping (o.k. so one tree is dead, whatever…are you feeling my “the grass is always greener” pain?) Wait, where was I? Yes, visiting with friends for what was our last “real” weekend in Sioux Falls, I worked very hard to eat at my favorite places, but my husband, working ever so diligently in the aforementioned home, which seems to get bigger and lovelier with each passing day, didn’t have that luxury. He texted me and asked me to pick him up a Whopper with cheese and onion rings. No problem.

I pulled into an approximately 15 car line and waited. While waiting, I couldn’t help notice the 2 for 1 fish special on Fridays. Hmmm, I will readily admit that I don’t fully understand the fish on Fridays Lent thing, but I’m pretty sure that McDonald’s was not what God had in mind. While I was waiting I remembered that my Freshman year in college, my best friend and I gave up fast food for Lent. (I'm thinking we had an affinity for Arbys and Taco Bell. Even as a college student, I wouldn't touch a Big Mac.) I guess it's not a totally relevant point, but I share in an effort for full fast food history disclosure (and because she reads my blogs!) Anyway, we finally make it to the window.

“May I take your order, please?”

(I checked my text from Greg because he had been working very hard and I really didn’t want to mess this up.)

“Yes, I’d like a Whopper with cheese, onion rings and a diet coke, please.”

Silence

“Um, we don’t have Whoppers and we don’t have onion rings. Would you like a Big Mac and fries?”

More silence. Dangit, I think I'm at the wrong place.

“Yes, that would be just fine. Thank you.”

By the time that we made it to the pay-window, pretty much the entire place was filled with laughter. The poor guy that had to take my money looked like this was just possibly the best day at work, like ever! He was holding it in, just barely. It reminded me of Saturday Night Live actors who totally loose it during their skit. Seriously, who knew? Mc Donald’s doesn’t have Whoppers.

My sister-n-law, who is the real health expert of the family (with, like a degree,) loves to cook with fancy, organic ingredients. She lives in Pierre, SD, which, in case you’ve never been there is not exactly the culinary capital of…well, anywhere. She often says that she’s a Brie cheese girl living in a Velveeta town, and lately I can relate, although for the record Velveeta ranks right up there with powdered donuts in my book. For me it has less to do with food (and certainly less to do with cooking) and more to do with feeling like I’m at McDonald’s trying to get a Whopper only to find out that they I may have to settle for a Big Mac. (And in case, as I strongly suspect, I’m really off my game today and you weren’t able to catch the analogy then I will be more direct: I’ve arrived in Fremont looking for cherrywood and as it turns out, I may have to make do with oak. Literally. That wasn’t an analogy. I want a house with cherrywood cabinets. And don’t get me started on the Jacuzzi tub that I was looking for. An alarming number of homes here don’t even have bathtubs in the master bath. Some kind of deal about it being a waste of space! I’m not even kidding.)

O.K, so now I’m hungry. As it happens, there are no powdered donuts in the house, but, like any good Mom, I do have a secret stash of chocolate and lucky for me I didn't give up chocolate for Lent. Today’s menu: Reese’s peanut butter Easter eggs (which I’m guessing ranks right up there with chocolate crosses and filet-o-fish Fridays!)