I had a nice day today.
The weather was pleasant, I had a photo shoot with a beautiful family in the morning, Crumpet took my 2 oldest kids after the early release, my washing machine got fixed, and later, the kids played in the double slip-n-slide.
Salsa.
It began around 5:30. It shut out the rest of the world, and threatened to overcome me.
Salsa.
I tried to reason with it, this pesky little thing. I told it that everything was fine, Piggly Wiggly is 5 minutes away, and we can buy ourselves a nice big jar of Chi-Chi’s salsa.
Chi-Chi’s.
Chimichanga! (I’ve never had a chimichanga in my life.)
It was growing stronger. I sensed within myself the first signs of panic. No, I’m sorry, little freaky craving thing, Chi-Chi’s was bought out by Outback Steakhouse, I believe. That was, like, 5 years ago. No Chi-Chi’s. Comprende?
Comidas Mexicanos.
El Serape.
Tacos El Rey.
Lupitas.
La Hacienda.
Strange that my craving was unable to understand that those Mexican restaurants are all located in my home town, about 1 1/2 hours away. And that it was now 5:45. I called a friend, exchanging a juicy bit of gossip for the location of the nearest authentic Mexican restaurant.
Unacceptable.
This bit of madness and I had become one. It was in my blood. It was in my soul. I had been to that restaurant before, and it paled in comparison to the good stuff in K-town. K-town, that city with a healthy population of Mexicans (and Italians, as noted in a previous craving: Infusino’s!). A city with La Hacienda. How could I have left such a wonderful, glorious city?
I began to cry.
Hercules tried to help. Qdoba? He was willing to do anything. I think he was scared.
No. Chi-Chi’s.
Now we were regressing. And losing time.
Salsa.
I called Applebee’s. “Do you have salsa?” “um, yes.”
Salllllllllllllllllllsaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
I took the two oldest to Applebee’s in desperation. Two very tired children, caked in mud from the backyard, to a place that had a 20 minute wait (that was just for the drama. Actually it ended up being only about 5 minutes in line, 5 minutes in the bathroom). Two very tired children, and a crazy posessed woman with a craving, to a restaurant with a waitress who forgot to put in our order. One very tired child, with an embarassingly smelly case of gas, and another very tired and occasionally whiney child, to a place with not-so-fantastic salsa and a terrible, but very nice, waitress.
We were there until 8:15.
I rushed home for Tums. Disappointed. Gassy. Heartburn-ed.
I had had salsa.
The craving and I are not speaking.
