Home for Abused Chips
Towards the end of a stressful semester, it did me a world of good to be around Kevin, who knows how to have fun and live in the moment. Laughter and being loved do so much to relieve stress.
Going to an amusement park with a boyfriend had been something I’d dreamed about for years, so one day we went to King’s Dominion. After getting off a particularly brain-scrambling roller coaster, I went up to a window to order us lunch. “I’d like two stricken chips,” I told the girl behind the counter.
She gave me a confused look.
Kevin stepped up and said, “Don’t mind her. We just got off of a roller coaster. We’d like two orders of chicken strips.” We spent the entire lunch laughing hysterically as we ate our chicken and fries, and later I drew a little picture of a house and wrote "Home for Abused Chips" on the front of one of the many letters I sent him back then when we were still dating.
Enjoy Your Day Here at Busch Gardens
We had a nearly perfect day at Busch Gardens during the visit when Kevin came down for my high school graduation. Just the two of us went. We saw several of the shows, rode all of the roller coasters, and this time we had a delectable meal of barbecue chicken that I didn’t have trouble ordering, because all of the food was already prepared and set out for the taking.
The moment that really sticks out occurred while we were eating dinner at the Italian opera house. Feeling rather adventuresome, I selected an Italian sampler platter for my meal. I’m kind of a picky eater whereas Kevin’s what some would call a food slut (though he appreciates good quality food prepared well, when it comes right down to it, he’ll eat anything).
I instructed Kevin not to tell me what specific ingredients or foods were in my Italian sampler platter because that might have made me decide not to eat it. When he’d finished eating his meal, and I was ready to move on to dessert, he polished off the rest of my sampler while I started on the cup of strawberries with whipped cream I’d gotten for us to share.
We got talking, and I put the big dollop of whipped cream on a napkin, figuring it contained too much sugar for Kevin to consume, then I proceeded to eat one strawberry after another. When there were only two strawberries left, Kevin asked me if he could have one.
“Of course, we’re supposed to split them,” I said matter-of-factly, not realizing until then that I’d eaten most of them.
Kevin asked me why I’d put the whipped cream on a napkin. I explained. We were both laughing as he dipped the last two strawberries in the whipped cream and savored them. I just knew it would be an incident he’d remind me of frequently. Sure enough. I still get hassled about sharing strawberries to this day, even though one time on his birthday when I was up there living with my grandmother for the summer to be closer to him, I got up super early one morning to fix him breakfast before he had to go to work. Of course, strawberries were included.
