Hangry

The way I see it.

There is never a zero star meal deserving of a zero star.

If I do not have to cook it, I will like it🙂.

Call me lazy.

But let’s be honest.

Sometimes the bag of chips is what feeds the pie hole just fine.

Transparency

Spontaneity.

Transparency

Spontaneity

All well and good.

Good markers of commitment.

Good markers of communication.

When the meal ticket is cashed in on.

Then what?

What happens after that?

What commitment WAS just made, without a knowing mind, a knowing heart.

All of the sudden the meal sits like a lump in the throat, like a bump on a log.

Thinking back, had I a clue, maybe I should have forgone the knife and fork and just used my hands😳 A disgusting display of bad manners might have helped. Helped to not be invited back to the table I never wanted to sit at in the first place. As for the the dining experience that I had no idea I was having. Well that is another story.

At the time.

The so called breaking of bread I had no idea was occurring. And yet. Here I am. This way.

Who knew?

Hey.

I was just along for the ride. Remember?

A convenient prop sitting there. Looking all nicey nicey while the deal went down right under my nose. The stealing of the plates was occuring right then and there.

Funny thing is.

It was a repeated occurrence and I had no idea.

Talk about a zero star situation.

Zero star? I own that hands down—with no fork or knife in sight or within arm’s reach of my grabbing any time soon.

And this was not just happening in a candle lit, low lighting atmosphere either.

It was happening in broad daylight too.

No transparency.

No spontaneity.

No sincerity.

In broad daylight too.

How could I have been so stupid?

I think it was a combination of things.

Hungry

Angry

Hungry+Angry=Hangry.

What was I to do when the person eating off of my plate was, well, so invisible?

I would only learn and see the deficit in my refrigerator, at and after a later date……

Corruption?

Yes..

Food fight?

You betcha.

Wish I had know it at the time—how to “work the system.” Some people have wayyyyyyyyy too much time for this kind of operation.At least they are full I guess.

The plate becomes smaller so the meal looks larger.

Living large.

That is what I always say.

Now.

Where is the bread? When I need it. My stomach is currently, in a very low, kind of grumbling voice asking me to get something in here ASAP.

You.

You at the other side of the table are smugly sitting there. You are full, yes.

Full of yourself. That is for sure. In addition, you take cover from the qualms of your conscience while filling your pie hole.

Not nice.

There are two choices. Neither are hunky dorey. What they do is measure a person’s sincerity. Not the dumplings on their plate, Dumpling.

If this is a concept, an ability you wish to entertain at the next table “meeting.” I wish you well and good. It is worth a try.

Sacrifice.

Sacrifice not.

False willingness hides laziness. (pf) Unless, of course one is weak from lack of bread. Saving face is one thing. Cheating a person you know and love is another. There are many, many ways to hide disobedience. Must it repeatedly involve a grade-school-like -food fight nearly every day?

I think it does.

Connecting with resistance involves a few thrown tater tots around the cafeterias and dining halls of our existences.

The best line of defense?

A blunt “No.”

Keeps the flies off the plates and a fork and knife in the running.

A corrupt lie with no difficulty? No. That is not what a blunt “No” means here.

It means get you hands off my grub.

Thank you very much.

Reluctance shows coursgeousness. (pf). It proves the point. The point of feeling that along with an empty stomach, you are willing to think about another. Share with another. Not take from another.

Repent?

A possibility.

Re trace steps? Always welcome in God’s plan. He wants us to figure out the errors of our ways. Do better next time. Even if and when our hangry selves feel the need to launch a bowl of tots across the room…to make a point.

Sincerity personified!

Successful is the man who can brown bag it. A good and righteous man. For sure. A man destined to share with others. It feels way, way, wayyyyyyyyyyyy better to share what we have then to be “seen” at the latest and greatest trendy five star food hall.

A dining experience of epic proportions. Still thinking back to that time that if I knew what was going down for real, I would have planted my face on my plate and shoveled it in while I still had the chance.

Now.

Still sitting at the kid’s table.

Alone.

Well.

Not really alone—my grumbling stomach is often with me. There to remind me that I could have played it corruptive-ly—below-the-belt-kind-of corruption. And then my stomach and I would not be having these daily chats together.

Sacrifice may be good for the soul.

Not so for the stomach.

False pretenses served as a side dish to a dinner invitation wherein the future plates of your life shattered and broke in the food fight battles.

The best we can hope for is redemption. And I am not talking about the 50 cent off coupons either.🤓 The bargain basements of yesterdays produce is looking mighty moldy. But strangely appealing and the stomach screams louder to just take it and we will deal with the consequences later🤢🤮.

Believe me, that is no way to live.

Should have just politely asked in the first place.

Now we are here.

Staring down at our empty plate.

One to always look on the bright side though.

At least now there is a plate!

The grumbling continues.

The food fight does too🫤