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Saturday, April 6, 2013


I do apologize for being away for such a long time today, but I assure you I've had good reason.   

Mainly that reason is because I've just begun to get over the trauma I've experienced today.

Yes!  I said it.

(And now I must explain.)

You see, my mother, well.  She - the truth is - she loves coffee.  I mean LOVES.  (As you know I am one of the eleven people in the United States who turns a snobbish nose at the stuff and pinkies up to my tea cup.)  But this is not so bad at the first.  When I tell you the second part, you will know why this is something a bit dramatic.

She does not love Starbucks coffee (too strong), she does not love Biggby.  Tim Horton's is okay.  Dunkin' Donuts is getting quite near the top of the ladder.  But tied up there, hanging out with Timmy is...oh gosh, I can't even saaaay it.  For crying out loud, she loves...McDonald's coffee.

I am pretty sure Satan is the president of McDonald's.  But I digress.

One time, I was in her car and we were driving to the mall or something and she decided that she wanted to GO THROUGH A DRIVE-THROUGH FAST FOOD PLACE and get a coffee.  (This food place was the aforementioned devil-land.)

It has been probably six or seven years since I have driven through a drive-through place and I look at them now as I pass and yell things (even though they can't hear me) about how they're paying to eat poison and such things.  Sometimes if I'm exceptionally pensive, the sight of people in a drive-through (which they spell "thru", yeah.  Ohhh kay.) will make me wonder about the whole meaning of this world and make me think about converting to full-time farmerhood instantly.  Sometimes if my offspring are in the car and they are behaving poorly, I will threaten that we will turn into a drive-through fast food place.  They immediately stop their tomfoolery at this suggestion.

It is the saddest place on earth.

So as she was driving me through it, I (consciously or not) slumped down in my seat hoping nobody would associate me with the M-word.  I smiled sheepishly as the friendly quasi-food hander-outer passed off the poison coffee to my mother's delighted hands.  My face looked like some kind of nervous tick smile, my eyes being filled with dread and panic.

Fast forward to today.

My mother is being ultra-helpful and babysitting the littles while I get many unpleasant errands done - she is even cleaning my house because I have company coming over.  She is even SEWING curtains for me.  So yes, she deserved like $20 million dollars, a crown and an award.  But all she wanted was...yes, folks, a McDonald's coffee.

Which means.

I. have. to. go. to. a. McDonalds.  More than that.  Through the drive-through!

I was running tight on time so I couldn't drive to Ohio (to be safely out of sight of anyone who would recognize me) or California, so I had to go to a McDonald's around  my house.  For a few moments (as the fear paralyzed me) I thought of calling my hubby and asking him to get it on the way home,  but then I made myself pull on my big girl panties and man up.  

I must sacrifice it all for my sacrificial mother!  I must go through the McDonald's drive-through!  Arggggh!

Oh the conflict!  Do you understsand that I have some kind of bumper sticker that says something like, "Support your local organic farmers"?  Do you know what happens if you drive that bumper sticker through a McDonald's?  It implodes.  And probably your fingernails melt off.  At least I was sure that was the likely situation, anyway.

So, bravely I went.  I got less brave as I got into the line.  I purposely moved my head out of the view of the person behind me looking into any mirror at me and then put on my sunglasses and hood just in case.  I began thinking I was pretty sure that this is how it would feel if a Christian person had to walk into a devil-worshipper building to pick up some brochures.  (I really don't know if they have brochures, but you get the idea.)

Besides it seeming what must have been something like four years in that line, I came out mostly unscathed (at least on the outside), minus the zits I acquired at the stressfulness of the situation.  The mission was accomplished.  I did not answer "nothing" when the person asked what they could get for me today, I did not eek out, "You are serving poison and murdering the world."  All I said was, "small black coffee, please."  

(twitch, twitch)

I'm perfectly fine.


Peace, love and that will be $1.06 at the first window,
Ms. Daisy

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