god, grant me the strength...
I didn't realize I had a problem with the Thousand Island. Sure, I suppose there were signs. I get a little spacey and am all "I love you, baby," when the salad greens come out. I'll take the Romain, but I'm always looking to score the spinach. And when I'm at the grocery store I might rub up on the dressing bottles and promise them things I may or may not be able to deliver.
But perhaps I'm hovering on the fringes of an intervention, for I had no idea there were this many bottles of Thousand Island in my pantry, and that clearly, I'll buy my fix off of anyone. I'm not loyal at all.
"Um...I think I'll go to the store and get some milk. Yeah...that's right. Milk..."
My family is worried. Rightfully so. We've been ranch dressing people for a very long time, and I'm sure my Mom doesn't want me to know this, but I can tell when she's been crying and praying I'll get help.
First step is admitting you have a problem, and apparently I have one.
But God, it is so good...
(this lame blog post brought to you by Summer Vacation. Summer Vacation. We'll fill your days with swimming, whining, snacks, games of catch, and the occasional crying jag. Summer Vacation. It's not for the weak!)