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I walked into the kitchen this morning, and the lady sparkler was rummaging through the refridgerator with three or four ziplock bags filled with food on the counter.
“oh, you’re packing a lunch?” I ask surprised, because I’ve never known her to do such a thing.
she stares back with pout-y face.
“no,” she says sheepishly. “these are just my snacks.”
“your snacks?” I say, before I can engage my brain enough to tell my mouth to shut the heck up. “all of that?!?”
“well, the bread is for toast for breakfast. I’ll have the carrots as a snack around 10:30. i’ll get a sandwich for lunch, and then the blueberries are for after … maybe around 2:30,” she says.
“I get hungry.”
so, I back my way out of the conversation by saying how great it is that she has a plan, and how cute her little array of baggies are … when she let’s it rip:
“oh, and shut up. if it’s not this, then it’s sugar … and then there will be a whole lot more of me to love.”