All for a pickle

On Tuesday I totaled my Passat for a pickle. Yes, a pickle. But not just any pickle, no, a McDonald's sliced pickle that comes on the top of a kids cheeseburger, which means it is covered in ketchup, mustard and perfectly cut mini onions. I know this sounds ridiculous and needs some explanation.

I don't eat at McDonalds. Maybe once in a blue moon...I think the last time I ate there I was 70 pounds+ pregnant with Jack, bursting at the seams and the thought of waiting another minute for food seemed unimaginable (I guess there-in lies the answer to why I was 70+ pounds pregnant) so I ate at McDonalds. Even though I don't eat at McDonald's, Jack does. More often then I care to admit, I grab him a cheeseburger (one of the rare places he will actually eat meat from - I know, I know) and fries. I generally watch him eat this meal and refrain from eating myself so I can someday be skinny. One of the tiny pleasures I allow myself at these moments is to eat the pickle off of his cheeseburger. I purposefully don't ask them to make him a cheeseburger without a pickle so that I can have it all to myself.

On Monday, the movers came and moved us out of our house, so we were staying at Dani and Sean's new home. So we woke up Tuesday morning and I decided to take Jack out to run some errands. We were on our way back and Jack was hungry and asked for a cheeseburger from McDonald's. We were in a hurry because I wanted to get him home so he could swim with Sean a bit and then, cross my fingers, take a much needed nap. So I pulled into McDonald's and thought to myself, I'm in a hurry...should I say no pickle? I decided no, I wanted my pickle. Heck I deserved that pickle being homeless and all. I almost waivered at the window, but I pushed on. I had the thought I that I should pull over and get Jack's food (and my pickle) ready, but I remembered I was in a hurry and that would only slow us down. I called Zack on my way out of the drive-thru on my hands free device. I had Jack's cheeseburger in hand, trying to fish out the pickle that was glued shut to the cheese, literally saying to Zack, "I fell like a turkey running around without it's head, no, that's not right, a chicken, that's it...see how confused I am...Oh no I'm going to crash..." WHAM. When I hit a stopped 4Runner at a red light. I mean, there seriously is no excuse for that. I can blame myself in a million little ways. The man at the repair shop three weeks ago said I needed new brakes. Truth be told, he was so concerned that he even offered to let me borrow his car which had his four year old's car seat in it so I could make an appointment and he could fix my breaks, but I thanked him and told him I was selling my car to Carmax in three weeks and I would wait. All week I was thinking, something is going to happen before I sell my car, and noticing how crummy my breaks were, but now I was only 3 days from selling it, so I would wait. That morning Zack put Jack in his car seat and had the impression he should double check that he was securely buckled in his seat, which he did. I wish I had listened to my promptings. I am grateful that Zack listened to his, and that through it all, Jack was completely safe and minutes later eating his cheeseburgers, sans pickle. It's all a bit hazy and clouded over in my memory, but I think after I crashed into the guy, I stuck the pickle in my mouth and ate it before I pulled my car off to the side of the road. Honestly.

All for a pickle. I am so ridiculous.