Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Will power.

Weekend mornings are lazy mornings. Everybody knows this. The pace is slow, the motivation is thin and weak, the sweats and slippers remain on, homework may or may not be accomplished, and sense of time is distorted-- nothing really "begins."

But this particular Saturday morning began differently, when Bridget burst frantically into my room to wake me up with an urgent message:

"I had a dream."

That's wonderful, Bridget. I'm in the middle of one. Goodnight for 3 more hours.

"No, no. You don't understand. Wake up."

In my delerious sleep rationality, I absolutely could not arrive at any line of reasoning whatsoever that would influence me to abandon my warm haven of pillows and blankets. What on earth, then, Bridget, could be so important?

"Ranch dressing."


I am showered and dressed within 15 minutes.

Despite its apparent initial triviality, to even sleepy Rachel, this is a serious issue that deserves undivided attention. Evidently, a significantly large sector of our lives has been lacking--the sector being, of course, comfort food (also referred to by us as "medicinal" food. Including, for example, iced coffee). This sector had gone relatively unnoticed until this particular morning, when the Ranch Dressing dream was elaborated in finger-licking detail.

So, since it is our personal duty to actively pursue what we want in life, our weekend morning had thus begun, and had begun with one single mission: find us some Hidden Valley.

This is not an easy task in Paris, France. As many will know, typical American food (peanut butter, Easymac, oreos, etc.) is not appreciated by the French. But what the French don't know is the power of the will. And, as the proverb suggests, where there is a will, there is a way to the American food store.

After 45 minutes of frantic and intensive internet and travel guide research, we armed ourselves with reassuring comfort and the giddiness of 5-year-olds. We know the store. We know the Metro stop. We're going to be eating Ranch dressing today.

Two hours later, we found ourselves as close to perfection as perfection can get--with two bottles of wine and two large, liberally Ranch-drenched Italian pizzas, seated picnic-style watching Le Tour Eiffel illuminate the darkening night sky.

Which leads me to another educational life experience.

Lesson #7: Don't take the little things for granted.