Good morning!
Today's post is going to be a little different. I thought I would share my son's essay with you. He is a great writer, just fabulous...of course, he gets it from me...
He had to write an essay for his pre-AP English class about a time when he faced a conflict in his life and how he dealt with it. Being the kind of involved mother that I am, I gave him all sorts of ideas on what he could write about. And he chose to write about how difficult it is to choose which hamburger to order at his favorite hamburger restaurant in Austin. It's hilarious. His teacher, the tough one everyone talks about, said it was her favorite essay of all, that she laughed out loud when she read it, and read it to his class. Nice job, Son!
But, before we get to the essay, I do have 3 questions for you to ponder. Ponder is a word I seem to like these days...
Question #1: Why is it that the one time you go to the grocery store AFTER working out, just because you only need 3 things and don't want to get out again because you're having a party at your house this same night, you run into someone you know? AND, it's usually a MAN you know, who, upon seeing you, says, "Hey," and stops himself just before "Wow," comes out of his mouth?? Why, oh, why, I want to know...
Question #2: Who the heck is Theresa? She apparently is "Under pressure," "Lashing out at her family," then yesterday "Was having a breakdown." I see her face everytime I go to check out at Wal-Mart, Target, or the grocery store and I have no idea who she is. Will someone please help me here? I feel like I'm missing out...
Questions #3: Why is it that my husband, who is 13 years older than me, can eat 5 pieces of cornbread and not gain an ounce? Why? Why? Why? I need to know...
My take: Life is full of questions to ponder, is it not? Here's the essay. Have a great day!!
A Burger to Build a Dream On
The door opens, and an aroma of grease and other assorted fried food fills my nostrils. Men have seated themselves all around, eyes glued to the football game that the television monitors display. Slowly, I enter the establishment. Walking to the waiting area, I glance up to one of the monitors. The Oklahoma-Texas game graces my eyes with joy, bringing pleasure to myself and my father, who love the Longhorns. I casually look around for a waitress to bring us to our table.
The setting? Huts, one of the best burger joints in Austin. Usually when I eat with my father on a Saturday in Austin, we go to Huts to watch the Texas football game. A perfect combination of football, burgers, sweaty (and very loud) men yelling at the game, and the typical weirdness of Austin makes this place great. After about five minutes of waiting, a waitress asks if we need a table for two. Once we get to our table, I realize our ever-so-kind waitress has positioned us directly in front of a television screen. When I point this out to my father, he smiles and nods at my glorious revelation.
As I take my place at the table, the menu fills my eyes. I ignore most of what it has to offer, instead choosing to look at the burger section. Memories flood my mind as I look at the twenty different options. My dad had started taking me Huts about five or six years ago. I had instantly fallen in love with their big, tasty burgers. Also, over the course of time I knew I would consume every single one the joint had to offer. The problem with this would present itself to me after the eleventh or twelfth burger: some of the options just, well, didn’t sound that appetizing. Take the Beachboy’s Favorite, for example; it comes with pineapple. I do not consider myself a huge pineapple fan. Now, why not just take it off? Because Hut’s rule number one (in my book): you must eat the part of the burger that gives it the name. Another example: The Mr. Blue. Mr. Blue gets its name from the blue cheese that you can find melted onto the meat. If I did not eat the blue cheese, then why say I ate Mr. Blue?
And so, the problem unfolded in my brain. It was simple, really: What burger to get? My mouth began to water as I pondered the menu. Too many choices! Everything sounded appetizing. The Sink Burger comes drowned in two different sauces, but the Wolfman Jack is served with diced green chilies and bacon! A glance back at our table and…wait, when did we get our drinks? The internal clock inside my head counts out the minutes until the return of our waiter. The tribunal inside my head heckles each other with reasons and rebuttals as to what hamburger must fall into my stomach. The palms of my hands begin to sweat; the waiter is coming back! The very fabric of life seems like it will unravel if I do not make my choice, and within the next five seconds. Our waiter’s heavy footfalls reach my ears, and time itself seems to slow. Looking around the restaurant, all eyes seem to fix themselves on me, begging me to make a decision. Time is up as the waiter arrives at our table. Franticly, I motion for him to take my father’s order. After all, respect your elders.
“Yes, I’ll have the Dagburger please. Eh, everything except onions. I’d like a side order of fries as well. What’re you having, pal?” he says to me. The waiter turns, ready to write down my order.
The moment of truth; the ticking time bomb in my head is about to go off, and I still have no clue as to what I will be dining on this evening. Texas has the ball, marching down Oklahoma’s field to score, making an even bigger reason for me to hurry it up.
“Yeah, well,” I shakily begin, “…the Fats-Domino Burger sounds great. Dry, please, but leave the New Orleans seasoning on. Thanks!” the waiter nods and walks away, taking our menus. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. At that moment, Texas scored, sending the crowd at the game, as well as in the restaurant cheering at the top of their lungs. Though this applause may support the Texas players, I accept some of it. I had just faced a colossal task, and I had passed with flying colors. While I cannot say it was the biggest decision of my life, it certainly was a tasty one. +
