I think the thinking that gets me in the most trouble these days is as follows: I’m leaving the office, heading to pick up the kids, and I haven’t stopped to eat lunch. I’m in a hurry, because I’ve pushed my time constraints to their absolute limit, and I know that I really have to beat it to make it to Will’s school in time . . . but I’m starving. And Chick-fil-A is there, but, bless their hearts, they are on the other side of the road, which means going up to the light, circling the building umpteen times to get through the drivethrough, then meandering back out to the light and waiting for it to change so I can get where I need to go. I love CFA . . . I feel as though their honey-roasted barbecue sauce is the stuff of dreams . . . I deduct money I spend there as “tithe” on my taxes . . . but I just cannot make it happen quickly. And where I get in trouble is with Dairy Queen. It looms on my right, easy in, easy out, no line, no tax implications . . . boom, Medium Oreo Blizzard with Chocolate Ice Cream. Lunch – Check! Convenience – Check! Blown diet – Check!
There is some manner of debate among my friends about milkshake(s) and quality of the aformentioned CFA, and Zaxby’s. Lemme just say this – if I’m in unfamiliar territory, I will track down a CFA milkshake like that bloodhound in that Blake Shelton song . . . but, and this is an enormous, Sir-Mix-a-lot sized but, if I am anywhere near Winter Haven, there is no debate – Andy’s Igloo has the greatest milkshake in the history of the world, and I will drive up to 30 minutes to acquire one over any of the others . . .
All of this leads to a recent conversation with the kids where I was talking about “spending local” and how Gilly and I like to shop at locally owned businesses and eat at locally owned restaurants, to which Will said “so like we should go to the Taco Bell in Winter Haven and not in Lakeland.” Good talk, son . . . good talk . . .
I think dove season opens on Saturday and the kids and I are monumentally pumped. I also think Gilly may be monumentally pumped that she’s going to have a quiet little Saturday at home . . .