McDonalds | Brea's Air

It is a little after 5 AM.

I’ve been sitting here, staring into my laptop’s screen for a little over an hour now, trying to catch up on my blog-friends’ lives (which I’ve sadly fallen horribly far behind on in the last few weeks). My new kitten, Sally, is curled up on my lap, after finally giving up trying to get me to play with her instead of the strange, flickering box I seem to be obsessed with. YoungerDaughter and OnlySon are, of course, sound asleep and know nothing of my late-night “sleepus interruptus”.

I blame the strawberry lemonade.

Last night, after YoungerDaughter came home from work, we decided it was too freaking hot to breathe, and didn’t want to fire up the Flaming Box of Hades (the oven, to you non-pagans), but we were famished and needed sustenance. McD’s it is!

Now that the boil order has finally been lifted for most of our fair city, the fast-food joints here in town can get back to serving liquid refreshment that doesn’t come in a can or sealed bottle.

Ahhhhh, the blessed Frozen Strawberry Lemonade…..

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

1. That I’m willing to endure the immediate BRAINFREEZE I get when consuming this delectable dessert-in-a-cup, because I can’t stop myself from diving head-first into the sweet and sour AWESOMENESS that is this slushy heaven. It’s worth the momentary cessation of brain functions to get that first hit of cold, summery, fruitjuice love.

2. That I’m also willing to endure the ultimate, incapacitating HEARTBURN. That which woke me up at 4 AM today, and still holds me tightly in its grip. No, it’s not angina or a stroke. I had some strawberry lemonade, ok? Yes, I know it causes me pain, but that which does not kill us…. right? Right. Totally worth it.

And the warmth of my 7-week old Patchwork Sally on my lap is the perfect cure.

Shhh, this is my sleepy face…