fast food failure
We're getting a new McDonalds down the street. There was one there before, but they tore it down and put up a new one in its place, a new one much fancier than what it replaced. Even without any landscaping besides the dirt humps left by the construction crews it shines from its spot between the Shell Station and the motel like a gleaming beacon of generic American culture, a shrine to what makes this country great. And we want to go eat there, yes we do. We tried this evening, but it turns out the people I had seen moving around inside were just workers and employees training, and the restaurant is not yet open to the public. So we went to Know Fat instead, and it was Not The Same. While there are certainly good things about that place, it isn't a shrine to anything besides taking a good idea (healthy, vaguely hippyish fast food) and killing it by trying to make it the next big thing. There is such a thing as too much test marketing.
On the other hand, it was awesome to eat fast food without producing any trash at all, besides one small paper napkin. I shared Leah's, when she was done with it. It occurs to me that I can carry a handkerchief for such purposes, and I just might. Leah made me one for Valentines day, but it's much too beautiful to be used to wipe off french fry grease.