a pact to always get the lemonade

I know that since I made the announcement we are officially going to LONDON and PARIS for two weeks in September, y’all have been wondering what exactly we’re going to do.

As of right now, the plan involves getting on an IcelandAir plane on a Tuesday evening, arriving in London eleven hours later, which will be about noon on Wednesday, spending the next nine-ish days doing all the classic touristy things plus stalking trying to spot Kate, taking the underwater train to Paris (also known as the Eurostar/Chunnel, but it sounds so much cooler to say ‘underwater train’) and spending some time there, but not that much time, because the chances of spotting the members of One Direction and/or Kate Middleton in Paris are zero to none and let’s be real about what this trip is really about.  And then on another Tuesday in September we’ll get on a plane in Paris in the afternoon and set foot in America around dinnertime and wonder when we can do it all over again.

At least that’s the plan as of today, April 14th.

Which leads me into what we did this past weekend.

On Friday night Danny attended the ‘bachelor’ party of a friend who got married two months ago.  (No, it doesn’t make sense to me either, but if you can figure out how to have a bachelor party once you’re married, more power to you.)

The bash involved Dave & Busters, ping pong, and video games, which from what I understand of the male mind, is an equation for a very good time.  While Danny was gone, I read and talked to my mom on the phone and ate two large waffle fries from Chick-fil-a for dinner.  Let me tell you, I had been looking forward to this dinner ever since I conjured up the idea at the beginning of the week. Every time I thought about Friday, I thought about the fries with great anticipation.

It had all the makings of being a perfect evening, except for when I started feeling sick near the end of the first container/basket/cup (what are those things called?!) of fries.  I abandoned my feast to catch up on Royal Tour news, thinking I’d be ready to pick up where I left off in a couple of minutes.  Thirty minutes later I felt just as sick, if not more so, but forced myself to at least finish the first container/basket/cup.

I researched places to stay in Paris for a while and then decided to tackle the last container/basket/cup.  The sick feelings were still lurking.

And then my mom called and I thought about telling her that I was sick from eating so many fries for dinner but decided not to.  She did not raise me to eat meals consisting of potatoes and only potatoes, especially not of the fried variety, so I kept it to myself and wondered if Danny would be home soon.

I finally gave up on Danny being home before midnight and decided to just sleep my fry-induced illness off and made a pact with myself that next time I eat mass quantities of waffle fries from Chick-fil-a for dinner, I should get lemonade too.  Because that might have been the problem.  I only had a glass of water with my fries and there is a reason that Chick-fil-a’s lemonade is popular, right?

Anyways, on Saturday I woke feeling like eating fries for dinner was the best idea I ever had and went to work just like I do every week.  In the evening we went to a ‘reception’ for Danny’s friend that had the ‘bachelor’ party the night before.  Because if you’re going to have a ‘bachelor’ party once you’re already married, why not have a party the next day to celebrate your two-month old marriage?

Danny was the star of the party.  I am not even joking.  The ‘bride’ kept coming over to ask him to dance.  And by dance I don’t mean with her, I mean to do some sort of solo dance.  So he did.  Over and over.  And then on the slow songs she’d tell him to get his wife and dance.  So he did.  Over and over.  (Can you tell that the dance floor was not hopping at this event?)  After all that, I’d say Danny deserves his own ‘bachelor’ party.  Or something of the sort.

On Sunday Danny made French toast, we went to church, ate lunch at Tokyo Joe’s, and spent the afternoon at a thrift store.  Danny’s in the process of getting together a softball team, and let me tell you, it has been ALL CONSUMING.  So out of control that I cannot write about it in this post or it will be what you might call A Never Ending Post.  Anyways, Danny was on the hunt for baseball pants at said thrift store and, as he realized after trying on many a pair of pants, he also needed a Baseball Belt.  I’m not even going to elaborate on the fact that I didn’t know that was an actual thing.

We had Papa John’s for dinner, went to our small group, and realized as we couldn’t see the road that this spring snowstorm was going to be more real than we anticipated.

And there you have it: our exciting weekend.  In retrospect, I made a lot of questionable dietary choices.  It’s a wonder I’m not still in my pajamas and feeling sick.  Oh wait…

Here’s to a week of better choices and only one container/basket/cup of waffle fries.  With lemonade, of course.

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