Magically Reacquainted with Taco Bell

When I was a wee little human bean, my mom would often take me, my little brothers, and my cousin Kylie to get bean burritos from the Taco Bell. We wouldn't eat them right away, though. We'd cruise over to the local park, take our bell-clad brown paper bags up to the "rocketship" and eat the beany-tortilla-cheesiness together. After which, we'd spend an hour or two playing on the grounds, pretending the woodchips were lava and that one of us was a monster trying to trap the rest.

That was a long, long time ago. The only times I've eaten Taco Bell since those little-kid years was a Chalupa Supreme once in the university food court when I was a freshman, and then while filming a zombie movie with my brothers. I think some snooty judgement demon subtly convinced me it was gross or childish.

But yesterday, man. Something got into me. I don't know where the nostalgia descended from, but at 8:15 at night I got this mad craving for taco-burrito-ness. The drive-thru was otherwise empty and the grand total after tax was $3.12. Delicious. Cheap. Simple. Fatty. Tastes like the highest height of a playground before summer play.

And I loved it.

Comments

The Problem with Chick Flicks.

I really, really, really enjoy a select few movies that I willingly watch over and over again. Pride and Prejudice is one of them. You see, Elizabeth's defense of her family, her sense of self respect, her ability to admit that she was wrong and to appreciate Darcy despite all his quirks, and quizzical brow-ness... it's marvelous. My husband doesn't share the sentiment, could you tell? ... and that's okay. There's rare a chick flick I enjoy near as much as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice or A Walk To Remember , and I wanted to explain why. You see, there's more than just a few problems with (many, not all) chick flicks: (and if you have a chick flick that escapes many of these pitfalls then please oh please leave it's title in the comment section!) The heroine (or suitor) is less than honorable. I have a hard time rooting for a girl to get a gentleman when she's spending her time being scandalously loose with other men ( #thenotebook) . An

A Year and 10 Days Ago

Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and you lovely random passerby of the Blogosphere-- A year and 10 days ago I set out on a journey to write a blog post a day, for two months straight. I did that successfully, and then decided to extend my challenge to a one-year challenge. My report? I wrote 317 blog posts in a 365-day period. And I think that's pretty rad. A few reflections on this experience: Firstly, I started this blog not just because I love writing, but because I needed help. I was suffering from some intense postpartum anxiety, but I didn't know that's what it was at the time. Every moment of every day I felt like I was under severe stress and pressure, even when there were no evident triggers for such. The feeling in my gut on an almost constant basis felt like the queasy stomach, racing heartbeat, and unsettled mind that greeted me before every math test and job interview I've had growing up. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know how

the grouch

he came home to the grouch. normally silly and sass, she was snippy and sour in lieu of laughter, sarcasm instead of sweetness... a lemon-tart BONAFIDE GRUMP . He kissed her anyways. He held her anyways. He did the dishes anyways, and cheered up the screamy baby and cheered up the house. He melted the iceblock that had molded over her heart over the frustrations of the day because she allowed the demons of disaster to chill her joy. He melted her, all over again, he melted that grouch. That...that is true love. And that's just one reason I love 'im.

God is Good to the Johnsons

Search This Blog