Saturday, February 28, 2009


We’re in Indianapolis for a dear friend’s wedding; hubby arrived about 2 hours before me. His pal picked him up from the airport first, and then they tooled around town. When I arrived, I thought we were going down to Greencastle to get GCB (garlic cheese burger for those of you out of the loop) but learned that the famed Marvin’s restaurant was closed. So I announce to hubby and pal that I’m ravenous.

I notice our pal drinking a soda from a Chipotle cup. “Mmmmmmmm. Chipotle. Come to mama.”, my stomach says. I agree. But then it dawns on me that they rudely went to Chipotle without me! Without even as much as a half-cold chicken-black bean-heavy-on-the-pico de gallo-please-green Tabasco-laden burrito. With a side of chips.

When I inquire, pal tells me that it’s cup from much earlier today. I inspect the said cup and inquire as to why the cup still has condensation on its sides. And why does it still have ice in it if its so stinkin (I really thought F’in here, but I’m keeping it clean for the kids) old.

My Spidey sense kicks in. “You bastards went to Chipotle without me!!!!!”

"No, no, no, no, no, no and no", I’m told. It’s an old cup from way earlier today, etc. I let it drop.

(I must interject here and explain that I love Chipotle and there are no Chipotles in Little Rock. So whenever we go out of town, one of my first considerations is do they have a Chipotle, how far will I be from Chipotle and how quickly can I get there. Dunkin Donuts and Jamba Juice are also on this short list.)

So I ask them if we might go to Chip-po-po. I learn that it’s too far, way too far away, not on the way, out of way, blah blah blah so I’ll have to settle for a fast food joint. I acquiesce, and eat a Burger King hamburger, a ketchup-mustard-heavy pickle-please hamburger.

Then, last night, at a pre-wedding party, I hear my husband recant the day’s events to another friend and he tells her that they ate at Chipotle.

I turn, in slow motion, like a bad-80s TV special effect, to hubby. “You ate at Chipotle!” I yell.


I hear, “I didn’t bring you one because I didn’t know if you’d just eaten and we can go tomorrow” and more blah blah blah.

So, this morning, I’m lying awake, up at 5 am Central time, and I’m thinking through the fun of the night before. And I remember hubby's Chipotle oops.

I got so mad that I almost woke my husband up and confronted him about the Chipotle lie. I almost shook him awake, after he had one of the longest weeks of his professional life, when we’re out of town without kids, to jump down his throat about lying to me about putting Chipotle down his throat and not bringing me any for my throat. It was a lie-inconsideration combo.

I decided to let him sleep. Sleep on, unsuspecting hubby. You’ll have your moment in the Tabasco-laden hot-seat.