taters.

Taters Fries

I stopped eating french fries about 7 years ago. There were a lot of reasons, but the main reason is that I cannot have just some of the fries. I must have all of the fries. If you don’t want yours, I will eat them, too. But you should definitely not try to take any of mine. Because Joey does not share food. And neither do I. At least when it comes to fries.

I wrote about it one time, about how I was waiting for a very special occasion to have fries. And when I got to about 10 weeks, when the scary bleeding had stopped and things were looking better, Mike took me to Five Guys and I had the most delicious fries I have ever had. I am not kidding you. They were so good. It was worth the wait. Maybe even worth getting pregnant. I’ll get back to you on that one.

But the best part was not that I ate the fries, though they were heavenly. (I could write a whole post about how delicious they were, but that would serve no one well. You would want fries and I would want fries and our waistlines would suffer.) No, the best part is that Mike took a picture of me eating the fries and sent it to Alisa, the one person who would surely know exactly what it meant for me to eat them.

And then we waited.

We didn’t have to wait very long.

Because then Mike got an actual email in LARGE CAPITAL LETTERS and I got a phone call that was also in LARGE CAPITAL LETTERS asking WHAT DOES IT MEAN? The double rainbow guy had nothing on Alisa. Although she wasn’t weeping. Or on drugs. She might have thought she was on drugs, since me being pregnant did seem unlikely to actually happen. She was just clearly bouncing off the walls.

Since then, I have had many fries, even finishing off Alisa’s one day when we went to lunch. But those first ones, the first in seven years, they have been the best. It was nice to have someone to share them with, even if it was just in a picture.

(The picture above was taken when we were in PEI, a place known for its potatoes. That was the day that Atticus made me actually throw up in a Starbucks. In Canada. I almost pushed a nice Canadian man out of the way as I ran to the bathroom. He looked at me in alarm. I didn’t really eat anything the rest of the day until I ate those fries. And they were as good as they look. Maybe even better.)

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