It was dumb of me, really. Letting pickiness get in the way of eating. I went over four hours without eating. That was after having a large coffee, with a sugary pastry, and over two hours of driving on windy roads. Add hot weather, pregnancy, and the search for my Dad at a dusty car show, and the chances of me being grumpy are almost guaranteed. What surprised me was how shaky I was, in addition to being ravenous.
Oscar agreed that we should park (add fifteen minutes: who are you people that crowd car shows, anyways?), find food, and then track my Dad down. Oscar teased me, "You won't like the food at the show. It's going to be greasy," he said in a sing song voice. Ah, love. I kept changing my mind on what I wanted as we approached the show. Chinese food would be good, but who wanted to sit in a dark restaurant when it was so nice out? A hot dog with chili would hit the spot, but wasn't I supposed to be not eating sulfites? I am embarassed at how much I was whining to Oscar when we got into the show.
"No, I don't want a potato. Uhhhhh. Look at the line," I complained. I kept looking down the row of food booths. Shaved ice? Later. Fudge? Ditto. BBQ? Since my Dad is the BBQ master, it was a good guess that we'd have platters of meat for dinner, later. My shakes got worse. I sat down. I finally spotted a booth that didn't have a zillion people waited, and sounded appealing. "Can I have a carnitas burrito?" I said weakly to Oscar as I covered my face from the sun. "No rice. Thank you," I said as he dutifully walked over to get my lunch.
My being picky made us both miserable, sure. In my (weak) defense, I do have that baby thing going. As I gobbled, I barely cared that the burrito was far too mild. It was drippy and tasted good, overall. The shakes continued, so I kept eating. Of course, I was grateful to Oscar, and told him thanks again throughout the day. At least we seem to share a sense of humor. He made fun of my "I'm shaky," refrain later. He had good reason.