On our weekly lunch date, Mr. Nielson and I decided
to try out the new Impossible Whopper at Burger King.
It wasn't that memorable, I mean I don't much like food that is trying
to taste like something else.
I'm more of a black bean burger gal myself.
But it was so fun to get a giant Dr. Pepper and french fries,
and honestly doing anything with Mr. Nielson is fun.
We sat in the back of the truck parked on our property
with a nice autumn breeze blowing.
We talked about our kids, the burger, our kids some more, and the burger again.
Then we concluded that the new 0% beef Whopper is a nice option
for when we are on the road and need a place to eat-
but we probably wouldn't be stopping by anytime before then.
(Now I am sounding like I'm plugging the IW--which I am not).
Then we walked the property line and talked about plans, dreams,
building, life, and the timing to it all which is most important.
As we approached the truck and just as I was getting inside,
I looked down and saw HUNDREDS (I am NOT exaggerating)
of microscopic tics on my pant legs.
Now I am afraid the Impossible Whopper will now remind me of
tiny itty bitty disgusting tics, so maybe that will be the first and last
time I try that burger.
Tics are sooooooooooo gross.
