The time that rice and beans could fly

And I’m not talking food fight style.

Today, I was eating lunch. YOU GUYS. SALT LAKE HAS BEEN SO LOVELY AND WARM LATELY. (Also, yelling the world “lovely” feels weird. Go ahead, try it.  Tell me it doesn’t feel weird to you.)

Because of the loveliness of the whole universe, we (we being Jessy, Emily, Victoria {these are my coworkers and friends}) decided that eating lunch outside was in order.  So we headed right on over to the Food Court at City Creek (which makes it sound much fancier than the City Creek Food Court) and bought some food. And took it outside.

It was warm, but not super warm.  And the wind was blowing like a toddler blows on food to cool it–fast and in gusts (don’t worry, no spit though.)

Victoria’s chips blew off her tray before she ever made it to the table we were sitting at.  I lost napkins, a straw wrapper, and a receipt. Finally, I gave up on keeping all my trash on my tray. I bit the bullet and threw it ALL away.

When I got back to the table, I made some comment about I how I wasn’t going to litter anymore. And Victoria replied that she was going to keep littering. And on me.  (Which was true, if she littered because the wind would blow her garbage at me.)  FYI: This is what she had eaten (well almost, because she had a taco.)

FORESHADOWING.

FORESHADOWING.

FORESHADOWING.

FORESHADOWING.

FORESHADOWING.

Well, not five minutes passed before a giant gust of toddler spit wind blew through again. In a split second, the silver tray that had previously held Victoria’s Mexican food was flying at my face. Literally, the second was long enough for me to think “That’s going to hit me in the face”. But not long enough for me to react and dodge it.

Well, good news:

It didn’t hit me in the face. It hit me in the neck.  Rice and peas and carrots and corn and taco grease. The rice and peas and carrots and corn (WHO PUTS THAT IN RICE, BY THE WAY???)  got all over me. But, the taco grease–which I thought was salsa for a really long time–stayed mostly concentrated at my neck. On my shirt.  Fun, right? I was laughing so hard I was nearly crying, and for a while I didn’t really see the full damage because of laughing.

When I finally got enough control, I determined that I probably needed a tide-to-go pen, or a shout wipe, or some kind of stain remover, so we went to the pharmacy right over by the Food Court at City Creek. (I had no idea that store had two floors, for the record!)  Where a nice man who we now call Ginger Jared helped us find a tide-to-go pen and basically bore his testimony of how it saved his white shirt from chocolate ice cream on his mission. (Sidenote: It was at this point that Victoria whispered that I should marry Ginger Jared…)

So, we got back to the Church History Library, you know, where I work. I used the tide-to-go pen. And, yeah, if I were a normal person, this is where the story would end.

But we all know that weird things happen to me.

So, this clearly isn’t the end.

And, just in case having someone’s lunch leftovers launched at you by the wind isn’t weird enough, I got a weird rash from the tide-to-go pen. (Because you probably shouldn’t be wearing the clothes when you use it? I don’t know how the magic behind them works.)

The end.

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