As I write this, I am eating what are probably the best crisps known to man. I haven’t had them in 18 months, and I won’t have them again for a year or so, so I’m trying really hard to savour every bite. Why do I only get these crisps once a year or less, you ask? Because they’re in America. And that’s where I am right now.
I’d say about 75% of what I love about America is food-related. I love how you can go out to eat every night of the week because it’s so cheap. I love the burgers as big as my face. I love the way you’re never sure exactly how much Diet Coke you’ve had because the waitresses refill your glass every time you take a sip.
Adlai seems to be enjoying the food, too. So far, his favorite thing has been a chicken soft taco from Faith’s parents’ favourite Mexican restaurant, which he ate with one fist while watching an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine on my phone. (We do what we have to to have a peaceful meal out.)
But he also has an appreciation for the finer things, like my father-in-law’s tractor and the incredible number of “big trucks