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For the love of salad

December 6, 2011

Sunday is a day for late sleeping and pancake breakfasts. It’s for doing crafts and pretending to do homework. On most Sunday’s I get to sleep in to a reasonable hour like 9 am. Last weekend I had signed up to judge a debate tournament on Sunday morning (fact: I love debate tournaments).

So even though I usually reserve Sundays for relaxing I got up at 7:30 and judged informative speeches, prose and something similar to dramatic interpretation until about 1. The prose stole the show by the way. I want those kids to tell me stories every day. I came home and Johnboy was relaxing in the living room with our pretty Christmas tree and some football and a soft kitten. I was so very tired what with the getting up early on Saturday and Sunday (did you know I ran a half marathon on Saturday?) and the busy finals-ish week I had before that…. JohnHenry notices this tiredness — maybe the flop on the floor queued him in — and he said, “I’ll take you to Earthfare to get a salad for lunch.”

I am an expert in grocery store salad bars people. As far as salad bars go Earthfare is just ok but it’s the only one in town (the travesty!) and they have a hot bar to accompany it… so I said yes, I would love some salad from the ok salad bar.

We said goodbye to kitten and headed out the door. Earthfare is probably a ten minute drive…. meaning we wouldn’t normally just jump in the car and go there unless we were already headed in that direction.

A holiday picture of kitten to break up all these words.

So I made a delicious looking salad with all the fixings. And we got edamame, mushroom salad and curried chicken salad from the hot bar. And I got Annie’s organic salad dressing. And we even got a pint of soup to bring home for dinner. We get in line to pay for said items and Barber says the most terrible five words ever. “I don’t have my wallet.” dun, dun, dun.

Thinking that I was being taken to lunch I didn’t have my wallet either. So there we were with lots of salad, two phones, a set of keys and no money. Not one cent.

I wish I could tell you something awesome happened — like they had pity and let us take our salads anyway. But no, the lady behind the counter was all responsible and took back our food and smiled at us awkwardly.

And then we left.

Moral: When a boy asks you if he can take you to lunch, always bring your wallet. This way you won’t have to go home and eat wilted spinach salads with weird onions that you found in your refrigerator.

The End.

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