There Are Limits

As has become a semi-regular occurrence for me in recent months, I had another work-related road trip today.  This time, it was to Louisville, Kentucky, for a deposition.  It was a pretty day, and not a bad drive, except for the fact that cell reception along I-64 is ridiculously spotty.  At best.  Even in Louisville, it was sporadic.  I'm not certain if that's an AT&T thing -- I've had an inordinate number of dropped calls lately, as has my sister, who also uses AT&T.  

Anyway, it was a good day for a drive, and I spent much of it listening to 9/11 coverage -- remembering, reflecting.  There got to be so many thoughts bouncing around my head, that I realized I simply must start blogging again, and quit letting my perfectionism and seeming need to write a novel each time I blog get in the way.  My thoughts ranged from the serious and somber to the silly.  Here's one of the sillier observations:

As a frequent road-tripper, I'm also a frequent fast food consumer.  (Sometimes -- okay, often -- it has nothing to do with road-tripping, and everything to do with convenience. And laziness.)  While I would never contend that McDonald's is quality food, it certainly qualifies as relatively-easy-to-consume-while-driving-food.  So the #3 Combo (QPWC meal) is a staple of my travels, and, in fact, served as my lunch today.  That was at around 11:15 this morning.  (The deposition was set to start at noon, so necessitated an earlier lunch.  Plus, I'd been up since 5:00 a.m.)  

Come 5:30 p.m., I was tired of driving, and hungry again.  I stopped off in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, to fill up the tank again, and pondered my various food options.  I couldn't bring myself to go the burger route again.  And then...I saw it: Fazoli's!  I used to have Fazoli's all the time, but haven't in years, since there isn't one near my house anymore.  Baked spaghetti and garlic bread sticks suddenly sounded like the most heavenly kind of dinner!  Briefly, I questioned whether it constituted a driving-appropriate meal, but I immediately dismissed the thought. I'm a veteran multi-task driver.  (I know. I really shouldn't admit to that.) 

Soon, I had my yummy-smelling dinner in hand, and set off westward to St. Louis.  The first bread stick was gone in under five seconds.  I then began contemplating how best to open up the tin of baked spaghetti, and suddenly pictured myself attempting to shovel it into my mouth with a plastic fork, with spaghetti and sauce slithering and slopping everywhere, while I attempted to steer with a knee.  "No," I thought.  "No.  There are limits."  Aren't you relieved? :)  

Post Script: I did finally enjoy the spaghetti after arriving home.  Good stuff!