Shallow Thinker

I snapped the following picture while on a rare mid-day date with my wife this morning.  We were waiting to be seated at the Cracker Barrell and I noticed this sign:

Let’s suppose for a moment that I am a Spanish-reading customer.  I would like to order my food from a menu printed in Spanish.  Excellent! The top portion of this sign utilizes Spanish to inform me that a menu is available.  But why….why in the world is there an English interpretation under it?  If I need a Spanish menu to read, then I can figure out the Spanish portion of the sign.  If I don’t understand Spanish, then the English translation simply informs me that there’s a menu that I won’t understand, either.  Is that English translation really necessary?

And why in the heck is the part of the sign that informs you about large print written with the smallest print of all?  It’s a good thing they make such good biscuits at this place or I’d protest their stupidity by not buying their over-priced gifts and trinkets.

I think I’ve decided on my #1 favorite fast-food lunch.

Chick-Fil-A #1 (modified):

Photo is compliments of Flickr. Thanks, Flickr, for making me want another one!

- Chick-Fil-A Sandwich, no pickles, add cheese
- waffle fries, value size
- Sweet tea to drink (I don’t think there’s another option here…unless you’re a communist!)
- Side of “Spicy Dressing” to dip the fries in

I’ve heard that there are some parts of our great nation that don’t have Chick-Fil-A.  This disturbs me.  I want to know what our president-elect is going to do about this great travesty.  If he doesn’t address it, then my platform in 2012 will be “A Chick-Fil-A in every county”.  It’s the only American thing to do.

So if you had to eat one meal from a fast food place every day for a week, what would it be?

For a while, I’ve referred to our girls as Butterfly and Ladybug on this blog.  (The hyperlink explains why.)  Recently, however, I have thought about changing Ladybug’s nickname.  “Ladybug” makes me think of small, docile critters that crawl along leaving no trace of where they’ve been.  This does not describe our youngest.

The term “monkey” comes to mind.  This young ‘un is everywhere and she LOVES to climb on or swing from things that could spell imminent peril for her.  Butterfly was always timid when it came to trying new things.  Ladybug/Monkey is usually off inventing new things to try before we can catch her.  We’ve become accustomed to sprinting across the yard or house in order to stop her from falling from something that’s too high or pulling down a heavy item.

One example is the slide on the playset in our backyard.  It took Butterfly months before she try it and then a couple more before she would do it without us catching her.  Ladybug/Monkey saw no problem in trying to climb the ladder and had no second thoughts of the effects of gravity at the top of the slide.  She’s fine with trying to climb the small rock wall that leads up the other entrance.  (Luckily I’ve been right behind her on the times when she’s decided to quit halfway through.)

Like Father, Like Daughter

A few weeks ago, we were visiting with some friends and magically, Monkey fell into my lap giggling and laughing.  I wondered where she came from…but not for long.  She got up, ran to the coffee table, climbed up on the top and onto the back of the couch.  Then, she tumbled onto the cushions and rolled into my lap.  This “activity” went on for at least 10 minutes.

Our house has no furniture, gates, or barriers.  Only things that are to be climbed over, swung from, toppled onto, or crawled under.  She’s even figured out how to push chairs from one room to another so that she can get into or onto whatever she pleases.  I think Little Monkey could teach us all a valuable lesson about life.  Unfortunately, I can’t figure out what it is because I’ve got to go see what she’s gotten into (or on top of) now.

I haven’t heard the official announcement in the press yet, but I’m going to assume that I didn’t garner enough votes to carry the election.  Heck, I probably didn’t even garner enough votes to carry my own house.  But I’m a good sport.  I decided to call Senator Obama and congratulate him.  Since I didn’t have his number, I had to use directory assistance…they were not of assistance.  But finally, I found a number that looked right, but wouldn’t you know it, all I got was an answering machine.  Can you believe the nerve of this guy?  I run a nice, decent campaign and he won’t even take my call.  He’d better hurry up and offer me a cabinet position before I decide I don’t want it.

It’s nice to know that Georgia has become a battleground state because now my vote seems to really matter.  I knew that I wouldn’t be able to go by the polls or wait the long lines, so I got an absentee ballot.  It sat on my counter for a week.  Partly because I kept forgetting and partly because I was trying to decide a few things.  I really feel like the presidential race is based on who I want to vote against the least…and that disturbs me.

I decided to take a different approach to voting this year.  What if the election was a dead tie and Georgia was the deciding factor.  What if Georgia’s votes were so close that it came down to my vote.  If I held the election in my hands, what would I do?  My vote was cast with the idea that I would want to be able to go to sleep at night with a clear conscious.  Here’s the final verdict.

A Vote for America

I’m sorry the image is so fuzzy, but I think you get the idea.  Although, I do want you to know that I did put a lot of thought into this.  I almost wrote-in Steven Colbert instead.