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Sunday, August 24, 2014

Oh. Yes. I did.

Yesterday (Saturday), I headed into town early. I left our casa at 6:45 a.m. I needed to go to Walmart (aka Wally World aka Hellmart) to pick up a few things. I arrived at my destination at 7:10. When we lived in town (it’s been over fourteen years now that we’ve lived in the country), it only took us about three minutes to get to our Walmart. I often went early in the morning or late-ish (9:30 or 10:00 p.m.) in the evening to do my shopping. It was never crowded at those times. So much less stressful.

If one has to go to Hellmart around these here parts during the lunch hour or anywhere near 5:00 p.m.? It is HORRIBLE. Seriously. You just want to slap yourself for not being a better planner and finding a way to go at an “off” hour.

My Sweet Hubby (MSH) and I have been seeing commercials for Jalapeno Cheddar Biscuits at Whataburger. MSH is all about jalapenos. I mean the man eats them straight off the vine. The hotter the better. He puts them in lots o’ dishes. Eggs. Salads. On sammiches. In rice. In taters—mashed or baked. In burger patties. In sauces. On nachos, of course. He is My Jalapeno Man. So I told him I’d treat him to a Jalapeno Cheddar Biscuit! I’d do my shopping and then hit the Whataburger down the street. He was very excited. Very grateful. Almost giddy. Yes. That is sad. I know.

It only took me about fifteen minutes to get my groceries/supplies/necessities at Wally World. Praise the Lord. I got in line at the drive-thru at Whataburger by 7:35ish. I wasn’t sure I was going to order myself a Jalapeno Cheddar Biscuit. And then I saw exactly what I wanted—needed: A Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit! Wwhhhaaaattttt? (May I remind y’all—at this point—how much I love biscuits? I’ve called Little Leighton “Biscuit” from the time she was about five days old. Because I adore biscuits almost as much as I adore her.)

A biscuit…with a fried chicken tender…and honey butter on it. Oh. My. Goodness. Gracious. Sakes.

I ordered MSH two Jalapeno Cheddar Biscuits with sausage and myself one Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit. I also ordered a Diet Coke—something I don’t do all that often lately. Their drink machine was broken. It just couldn’t be the perfect morning/trip to town, could it?

I had that Chicken Biscuit eaten in no time. I typically try not to eat while driving. I couldn’t wait. I’d had nothing but water before I left for town. I needed that biscuit.

Perhaps I should have looked at the App on my cell that tells me the calories of all foods—including fast. I think I might have decided I didn’t need anything except an English muffin, once I got home. Had I known my Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit was going to have 590 calories—FIVE HUNDRED AND NINETY CALORIES—I might have passed it up.

One of my talents—and TLC will agree I’m right-on about this—is that I can make a “calorie” guess of food I’m/we’re eating and come within about 50 calories of the actual number. It’s a gift. That comes from counting calories for almost fifty years.  I would have been shocked if you’d told me that biscuit was over 500 calories. I was figuring about 450. So 590? Y.I.K.E.S.

Funny, too, because I was telling TLC the other day I hadn’t had a donut or a pancake in about eight months. Yet I look like I eat donuts and/or pancakes every single day of my life for breakfast. So what is the point? Why don’t I reward myself with a donut, pancakes, or a Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit about once a week? Or even every other week?

I just might start doing that. Right. I will. Who am I kidding? No one.


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