Monday, November 26, 2007

Signs of Divine Intervention


I must admit that there are times this year I have truly believed in Karma and payback from former lives, and that in my past lifetime I must have been a serial killer of the worst sort. You know, killing extremely cute kittens and puppies with bows on. For food. Or something. I ponder the names Idi and Pol and wonder if there's any connection. Because who loses a child and then has to deal with the minutia of bad shit? Take, for example, a hellatious week in July that starts with an aunt nearly dying from falling off a horse to then have both family cars break down a total of three times, the last of which happened at the airport while trying to pick up family. And the car couldn't be jump started. While trying to plan not one but two parties that weekend. There have been karma breakdowns and demigods of misbehavior waving their wands since February: Drunk driver creaming fence. Neighborhood kid ruining freshly poured concrete. Oven door falling off (and I do mean off, onto the floor. Makes for easy cleaning, I'll say that.) I'm a runner (well, WAS a runner, trying to remember how) so once Bella hit school in September, I hit the trails in an effort to burn off some baby fat. And because in my former life I apparently tortured the kittens and puppies before turning them into a pie, my plantar fascia whigged out, and now I haven't run in about 5 weeks and have very much gained back any weight I dutifully burned off in September. Because why should this be easy or go according to plan?

And then, amongst the shit pile, are small tiny gems where I wonder if there is indeed a God, and s/he is keeping just a wee tiny eye out for me and my mental health. The college football season, which I normally pay close attention to, and normally is a big fat yawn following the script minus a game or two, is intriguing this fall beyond my wildest imagination. The vast array of Republican scandals this year has been nothing short of giggleworthy. And Mr. ABF informed me of the best news I've heard in a long, long time: one of my favorite fast-food restaurants is opening a store 10 minutes from my house. I may be in the shitpile, but now I've got good fries to keep me company. Or maybe I'm reading this wrong: without the running, and the fries, I could be accepting my new identity as a coronary patient. Time will tell.

11 comments:

Megan said...

"I may be in the shitpile, but now I've got good fries to keep me company."
I think this is my new mantra.
My husband and I have roadtripped through Texas, New Mexico, New York, Pennsylvania, Maine, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Georgia, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia and Louisiana - all basically just to eat good road food.
So if Admiral Jreck's, Garcia's or Ted's Jumbo Red Hots opened an outlet in my town it would be life-changing.

Searching said...

Voting for the coronary. ;) Glad something GOOD has happened to you! Hubby has plantar fascia issues too. Poor guy used to run 4-12 miles a day and wanted to do a half marathon in Dec. He barely runs now because it hurts too much. Also found out he has a "rear foot deformity" which tickles me to pieces. About darn time someone else has something wrong with them! I don't have the monopoly on medical diagnoses! I DO feel bad for him and if it were anything truly bad I would feel awful.

Hope your good luck continues on for awhile!

meg said...

I am so bummed out. I just came back from a road trip and I had no idea about this place.

It looks fantastic. And I'm fairly sure that I drove right by at least one of the locations! Good fries should never be underestimated.

Beruriah said...

Mmm. Good fries. I've been craving those lately. Not burgers though. That's quite a nasty photo opening this post.

2007 has not been a good year. I hope to greet 2008 on a much different note.

Tash said...

Nasty? Nasty? That? That, Beruriah, is manna from heaven, one of the best burgers ever assembled: fresh baked roll, not frozen meat, made to order. Don't yuk my yum.

Megan and Meg, I must say I am a wee tad disappointed that you perhaps in my general vacinity. Perhaps should you road trip this way another time, we can meet up at 5 Guys.

Megan said...

I suspect it's bad blog etiquette to comment twice, but Beruriah! Nasty?
That is clearly the most perfect specimen of hamburger.
(And Tash, that would so rock.)

niobe said...

Sorry, I'm with Beruriah on the first picture. Like, totally.

Carole said...

The fries look delish. There is a song by Depeche Mode "Blasphemous Rumors". I swear that's what I feel like some days.
~Carole

Megan said...

I'm risking blog-fan purgatory with a THIRD comment.
But Tash! I just discovered there's a Five Guys at the D.C. airport, where we have a long layover on our avoiding-Christmas trip. Yay!

Tash said...

Get the F out! The airport??!! Ok, if your experience is less than heavenly, I blame it on the location. Clearly there are "airport rules" that probably affect taste. But my hopes are high.

Carole: God has a sick sense of humor, indeed.

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