Jicama-Gooseberry, anyone?

When I was a wee lass, yogurt came in varieties such as peach, lemon, or blueberry. The release of such an exciting flavor as marionberry was pretty exciting at my house. 

As years have passed, yogurt has apparently felt the need to get a little fancier.  Peach has become Harvest Peach or Peaches n' Cream. Rather than plain ol' lemon, we now have Lemon Chiffon or Lemon Burst.  Blueberry is now Blueberry Cobbler or Mountain Bueberry.  Vanilla Bean or French Vanilla instead of vanilla.  You get the idea.  I don't fault yogurt for desiring more flair.  Appealing to the palate is powerful marketing.  But when yogurt started manipulating not only the names, but the actual flavors, it got a little weird. Have you seen White Chocolate Raspberry Mousse yogurt? Green Tea yogurt? Decadent Cherry Cheesecake yogurt? I have.  Perhaps it's all going a bit too far. 

My local grocer is currently displaying these intriguing varieties available from Lucerne: 

Apricot Mango--not too strange.  At least the other three on the top row are "Limited Edition" seasonal flavors, but still: Caramel Apple, Cranberry Orange, and Gingerbread. To me, yogurt is a fresh and fruity matter. I'm uncomfortable with cookies and caramel entering the equation.  Along the bottom we have Passion Orange Pineapple--that's a lot for one yogurt, but at least they are all fruits we've heard of.  Next comes Yumberry Grapefruit, Bartlett Pear Mangosteen, and Apple Goji.  What? I have to admit, it would be fun to be the one throwing the darts at the wall of strange fruits to create new flavors. I could totally do that: Papaya Plum Pie. Apricot Kumquat. Coconut KiwiFig.  Avocado.

So yes, I did buy some.  I tried the three on the bottom right.  I did not care for the apple flavor much, the pear one was okay (being Bartlett pear made all the difference -rolling eyes-), and grapefruit was surprisingly decent as a yogurt flavor. I still don't exactly know what a yumberry, mangosteen, or goji are however.  I guess it's one way to stand out among all the pomegranate and acai products out there.

Here's a fun yogurt flavor you should check out because it's delish and not embarrassing: Tillamook Cherry Vanilla. Yum!

Southern "hospitality"

I experienced some pretty amusing glimpses of customer service down "sath," and although there were plenty of people who classified the friendly, hospitable stereotype, I thought it would be fun to share my brushes with the people of "Nashvul" (apparently Nashville rhymes with bashful, so get it right!) who don't quite fit that mold.

Bell Service is for Wussies
After courteously checking us in at the Gaylord Opryland, the front desk staff person carefully showed us on a map of the property how to navigate to our room. This very large resort is made up of several sections that were added on at different times, with varied main levels, all connected through gorgeous indoor gardens.  The result is a very confusing labyrinth of passageways and winding staircases.  We were certainly appreciative of her detailed instructions.

We set off in the right direction, map in hand, our two suitcases apiece rolling along behind. The first time viewing these atrium with magnificent waterfalls and full foliage was awe-inspiring.  Each set of stairs we encountered was accompanied by a nearby ramp, so we were able to enjoy the scenery without complication--until we reached the escalators. The receptionist had specifically instructed us to approach two sequential sets of escalators and go up them both (the escalators in question are shown on the left in the first photo above).  My mother and I each had one large and one medium-sized rolling suitcase in addition to our backpacks, laptop bag, and another bag.  The prospect of trying to successfully board and then disembark an escalator with our cumbersome baggage made us wonder aloud three things, in this order: First, why weren't we offered bell service for our luggage, or at least told where we could ask for it? Then, why did that woman direct us toward two escalators when she could plainly see we had a significant amount of luggage to drag along? And finally, where in the nearest elevator?

The answers to our first two questions would never be realized. To the third question, we set out to find the answer, which was not as simple as you might assume. We followed a path into a lodging tower, assuming we'd find an elevator there. We did, eventually.  Into the surprisingly tiny elevator we awkwardly crammed ourselves and all our suitcases, but upon exiting at the next floor up we realized that this one only offered access to the rooms in that tower. We hadn't noticed any alternate option, but back into the elevator we went. I swear at this point we could have passed for some bumbling tourist characters in a Saturday Night Live sketch: suitcases tipping over, on and off and on the same elevators, going around in circles, tripping over ourselves, all Charlie Chaplin-style.  Oh, the hilarity, had we been set on fast-forward to a honky-tonk piano rag. But in reality--not so funny.

I actually cannot remember how we finally found our wing of the hotel with its main level 3 floors up from the ground floor, even now that I am comfortably familiar with the layout. I was probably so frustrated and then relieved that I didn't care how, because I knew every other time we came here we would use the escalators meant to bring us.

Contender for 'Most Odd Response from a Retail Employee'

A mall within walking distance of our Convention hotel + free time = dangerous.  But I had left the tags on the dress I brought for our Awards Banquet in hopes I might be able to find one I liked even better, so that was the primary purpose in going to the mall.  The first time, anyway.

My mom and friend Lana helped me search and gave advice in the dressing rooms. One possibility we found was a frilly, ivory dress with a black satin empire waist tie.  Very pretty, but strapless and quite short. My broad shoulders make some strapless dresses less flattering, so the girls set out to find coverage options, something along the lines of a shoulder shrug.  The one they brought back didn't really "go" with the style of the dress, so we asked the fitting room attendant if they had any others.  We described what we were looking for, and her uninterested response went something like this:

"Yeah, we have one that's kind of, like, lacy?...but I don't know if you'll like it or whatever."

...

And that was it.  Her expression implied that we could go find it if we wanted to risk the chance I might not like it, but she wasn't about to go out of her way to sell it to us.

Do you normally know if people are going to like anything in your store? Isn't that WHY we shop and then try things on? I don't know if I'll like it either, but I can't determine that until I SEE it.  We then had to ask her to tell us where we could find the mysterious article and trudge off in search. It turns out that I didn't like it.  So according to that girl's logic I shouldn't have even bothered looking.

I found this cute shrug instead, and although I didn't end up getting the ivory dress and this piece didn't coordinate with the dress I did wear, I still like it.

Sorry to Trouble You, Ma'am

We went on the greatest little dinner cruise with a group of other Curves owners--some friends from home and some new friends we now adore.  I wondered if the General Jackson Showboat would be a lame, cheesy tourist attraction, but it was actually really fun and the "Country Music USA" performance was exceptional--even with my limited appreciation of country music, I was entertained.  The musicians were highly skilled and so full of enthusiastic energy (unlike many of the Disney on Ice skaters).

Mom on the balcony overlooking the General Jackson Showboat stage

Before the show began we were served a delicious dinner.  The staff allowed us to squeeze two extra seats into our table to accommodate our group, but as the salad was passed around it was apparent that the amount had not been adjusted for our larger company.  Our server wasn't in the room at the moment, and I wanted to have the situation handled before anybody was sitting hungry with an empty plate for too long, so I wandered over to the nearest dining room personnel to inquire.

The woman appeared to be a server as well, only she was presently occupied with clearing dishes from the empty tables, where the seats had not been sold.  Before telling her we needed more salad, I simply explained that we were in need of some assistance at our table, and asked if she could help us or if we must wait for our own server.  She hesitated, then asked which table I was from. I told her, and then again she hesitated, without even hearing my request, before telling me that since she was not my server, she would not be able to help me.

I understand how foodservice works, and when gratuity is the primary motivation to serve, not necessarily to ensure a positive experience for its own merit, the altruistic desire to help can disappear.  But since this woman was not busy helping her own customers, it seems to me that she could have listened to my request to see if it was simple enough to handle herself (maybe we were missing a straw and she has an extra one in her pocket), or at least helped me locate my server so he could resolve the issue.  The "I can't help you with that, good luck" attitude in customer service is so foreign to me.

But that was the only little hiccup in the evening, and here's the best part: When we arrived in our room I noticed a little advertisement saying I could text the word "offers" and our checkout date to this number and then would receive special offers to use during our visit on my phone.  I figured I had nothing to lose, and signed up with the hope that maybe we'd get 10% off a souvenir or a free dessert.  Later, my mom and I visited the Attractions desk to inquire about the General Jackson cruise. I was disappointed to learn that the dinner tickets were more costly than we had hoped, and there would not be a lunch cruise sailing at a time we could be available. So we accepted the fact that this event wouldn't be in the cards for us. Until a few hours later, when I received my first (and only, come to think of it) "offer" from the hotel.  Not 10% off. Not a free dessert. Buy one, get one FREE tickets on the General Jackson! We were thrilled, and shared our discount code with everyone who was interested so we had a big, fun group to go with.

Flashback Friday: An unforgettable convention

Here in Nashville, Tennessee attending my seventh consecutive year at the Curves International Convention, I thought it would be appropriate to chronicle the story of one that will always be particularly special to me.

For the last two years our convention was held in Orlando, Florida but prior to that we felt quite at home at the Bally's/Paris Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, where we attended for the first four years of my career with Curves.  At the awards banquet at my first convention in 2003, I looked on with admiration at the small handful of clubs to earn the prestigious "Franchisee of the Year" awards.  I made a silent commitment to be in a position to be selected for that award one day, and at the urging of some employees the following year, I submitted the application for consideration.  Which is how in 2004, having been a Curves owner for only two years, at age 22, presently the General Manager of our three club locations, I was selected to receive a Franchisee of the Year award. Whether the award would be Gold, Silver, or Bronze remained to be announced at the Saturday night banquet, but having been chosen at all was the most esteemed honor.

My mother and sister are co-owners in our Curves company.  The three of us attended Convention together that year, and it was a fabulous Girls' Getaway.  In addition to the exciting company announcements and inspiring messages, Curves Convention is all about the ladies taking a little break to rejuvenate.  Many Curves owners bring husbands or family along, but in spite of the fact that my husband and my dad also claim an ownership stake in our company, we've never invited them to participate in Convention (and they are probably grateful). With the exception of the year Madelyn was nursing, Convention has remained one little getaway--even if it is a business trip--that I can count on each fall.

Exactly five years ago today, my mom, sister and I were sitting in the Paris Ballroom along with about 4,000 other women (and a few hundred men), winding down from a full day of informative and motivating speakers.  Just before being released to hit the closest buffet for dinner, the Co-Founder of Curves, Diane Heavin, took the stage to make some final announcements and provide a tidbit of parting wisdom.

Diane spoke about how Curves has been helping make dreams come true for women all over the world.  Then she declared, "There is always room for one more dream, right?"

And this is when the beautiful icon of our entire organization called my name. She invited me to join her on stage. I didn't have to go far, as our Area Directors had located us prior to the session and ushered us to seats near the front of the very large event center.  Along with all of the other VIP's, of course.  As I walked up the steps into the spotlight and joined Diane, I noticed from the corner of my eye that our AD's had gently restrained my mother from following.  It was becoming clear that this was not, as we had logically assumed, related to our award nomination.

When Diane guided me to turn around and face the back of the stage, I could see the giant projector screens  now bearing my image alongside hers.  We stood at the end of a long runway projecting from the main stage, and in front of the black drapery from floor to vaulted ceiling were two 20-feet tall set pieces framing the sides of the stage. One of these large pillars began to rotate in place--much like it would in a game show, revealing on the other side the most tantalizing piece in the grand prize showcase, amidst gasps of envy and applause from the studio audience.

As a matter of fact, the 180-degree turn of this pillar did reveal a very exciting surprise: my sweetheart Gary, dressed up in a suit and tie, carrying a tiny navy blue box.  The gasps from the audience were audible indeed. What they may not have even realized is that he was supposed to be at home a thousand miles away.

Gary walked purposefully to the circular front of the runway.  He very genuinely and sweetly affirmed his love and then dropped to one knee to ask me that very special question.  Among the 4,000 cheering people, many tears were shed, as I was told repeatedly the rest of the weekend.

Now, if you know Gary, this whole story might seem very surprising. He is quite introverted, and prefers not to be the center of attention. Gary's belief that this special proposal would mean a lot to me propelled him to go outside his comfort zone. This stunt required assistance from many important people, up to and including the CEO and Founders of Curves, who undoubtedly have much more important things on their mind in preparation for this huge annual event. Secret phone calls and emails were exchanged with the powers that be, and Gary's mom had the privilege of being temporary ring-keeper.

Remember, Gary doesn't attend Convention with us. He took a flight to Las Vegas Friday morning, and then was shuffled around the bowels of Paris Casino in order to be kept out of sight until the right moment.  Gary got to see areas of a casino/resort that most of us never will. Apparently there was even a timing mix-up and while he was leisurely finishing a solitary lunch while our meetings were supposedly in session, Gary looked up to see a hoard of women in Curves T-shirts approaching.  He called in his emergency troops, who swiftly whisked him away into the hidden labyrinth inside Paris Las Vegas.

After he proposed, Gary returned to our hotel room for a few minutes, but had to catch a cab back to the airport for his flight home only an hour later. In a crazy coincidence, we girls had purchased tickets earlier in the day to attend that evening's performance of Tony n' Tina's Wedding, an interactive dinner-theatre experience that I've always loved. It was the perfect conclusion to my Engagement Day, and provided an excellent backdrop against which to show off my brand new ring and recount the exhilarating events which brought it to my finger.

Gary, Me, Diane Heavin

November 5, 2004

My sister Diana, Gary Heavin, Me, My new fiancée Gary, Diane Heavin, Mom, Area Directors Tom and Valerie

Oh yeah. We won the Silver award for our region. And guess what: we've been nominated for a Franchisee of the Year award again this year too. We'll learn which color tomorrow night!

Closure

Did you miss me?

I thought I'd give the keyboard a rest for a couple days while I prepared for my trip to Nashville, which is where I currently sit, reflecting on a successful completion of NaBloPoMo 2009. I believe Bridget's assertion that National Blog Posting Month is technically in November every year.  I feel quite left out that I'm not participating along with the masses, but I was craving the challenge in October and knew with certainty that I could not logistically post every day in November.  But most of all, I think trying NaBloPoMo in different months of the year offers new ideas for subject matter and makes the daily posting just a little easier. Maybe.

Somehow NaBloPoMo seemed a little easier this year than last. I didn't spend nearly as many hours wondering "what in tarnation am I going to write about today?" (probably because all the ideas have been building up over the months of limited blogging).  I resorted to centering a post on non-original material only once (but at least people seemed to enjoy it).  Twice my choice of subject was an even poorer excuse for a post (however babysitting and overseas visitors would otherwise be excellent excuses not to post). 

Daily blogging became the catalyst to reintroduce Flashback Friday, which I almost always have a lot of fun writing.  This month we got a total of five flashbacks!  One from elementary school, one from junior high, two from high school, and one from recent years, unwittingly even presented in that order.  First I explained two separate instances where Popularity was stripped from my grasp, then revisited a very odd trip to Eugene with my friend for a vocal competition, and rounded out the flashbacks with two costume-related memories.  There were two other Halloween-related posts: a look at the Goodwill waxing a bit sociological, and a look at homemade spooky goodies waxing a bit domesticated.  Of course, my two sixlists were basically flashbacks as well, remembering inspirational childhood movies and forgettable fads.

This month we all got to know a little more about some of Kristen's favorite things--betcha didn't know I love Big Macs and Disney movies. Now, appreciating great deals on used stuff isn't too weird, but maybe you're right that my infatuation with Gmail is a bit unorthodox.  I'll make no apologies for my Simpsons obsession though, and along with that post, my run-in with the psychotic job-hunter joined ranks among my all-time favorite posts.  A couple of other favorites this month were short and sweet: a photo of tiny white bums; a child's quotable quip.  

I can't believe only a month has passed since I shared my bewilderment witnessing a girl left alone on the swings.  As you can see, so much has been written here since then, yet a few questions remain unanswered; a few stories beg for closure.  First of all, the wretched forehead atrocity took nearly two and a half weeks to clear up (salvation discovered in cute hats and long bangs), but lamentably reappeared after I got my eyebrows waxed at a salon a few days ago in preparation for this trip.  So now I have a big zitty forehead again at a very inopportune time (not like there's ever an opportune time for zits, but there are times when less photographs will be taken and when I wouldn't have to face people I only see one or two times a year with a pink galaxy all over my stupid ugly face!).  Ahem.  Also, remember the Roasted Chestnut that I left on my hair for three times the recommended brewing time while I wrote all about my unintended reaction to the waxing and facial cleanser combination? It did turn out a little more like Burnt-to-a-Crisp Chestnut. Darker than planned, but my hair doesn't look too horrible.  Just my face.

Also, I met the author of The Familiar Stranger at our book club meeting. She is really funny and sweet, and we had a great discussion about her choices in incorporating the Christian message and focusing on that audience, etc.  It was a very interesting chat and Christina Berry was very open, honest, and down-to-earth.  I know I joked around a bit about all the praying and forgiveness in her book, but I want to reiterate that I did enjoy the story very much.

After using my Nike+ iPod sensor for a few more weeks, I have three tidbits to add to my review: 1) I miss being able to use the Lap function that was on my iPod's regular menu, which can't be accessed while using the Nike+ sensor.  With the push of a button I could record a lap, or a mile, or a kilometer, and view/save the pace for that lap.  This was very helpful in analyzing race times, and I wish it was available with the Nike Plus.  2) On a related note, there is no way to view my average pace during a run. Nike+ shows me my current pace (again, I don't know how long the lag time on measuring that is), but I can't tell how I'm matching a goal pace over a long distance.  3) The distances my Nike+ sensor was measuring seemed to be incredibly close to what satellite maps show, but on some recent longer routes, the sensor appeared to be around a half mile off! My assumption is that as my speed and stride improve, re-calibration is necessary.

Also on the running front, I wanted to let you know that those huge, odd "running gloves" shrunk in the wash so now they fit, and they are actually really soft and warm. So although I'm still baffled as to why they are classified as running gloves, they will keep my hands warm if I choose to wear them while running. I knew that dilemma was probably eating you up inside all this time.

We haven't made any move toward converting to a toddler bed. It's not a priority.  We may try having Madelyn sleep on the pull-out bed in our suite in Vegas later this month, which may offer some insight on how she'd do in a bed without railings at home.  It might present a very smooth opportunity for the transition. But I haven't even mentioned the idea to Gary, so we'll see.

My other kids, Loki and Kezia, are just fine after eating 2.5 packages of energy/electrolyte chews.  So you can stop worrying about that.  And also my good buddy Daphne picked up some more for me so I had a pack of Black Cherry for Run Like Hell.  Thank goodness.

Remember the bag of crappy toys I collected for my Moms Club's toy swap?  Yes, other people brought toys, but they were placed in the other room where the kids were playing, so no one had to see me sheepishly set my pathetic contribution among them.  I did not feel we deserved to take any toys from the swap, and hadn't planned on receiving any.  But after the meeting a friend made a last call for the leftover toys, and nearly everyone was gone.  I found the most adorable set of soft dinosaur bowling pins and balls that look brand new. No one wanted them. So they came home with me. Score. Or should I say, "strike!" Sorry, that was really lame.  Here is Madelyn cradling one of the dinos she prefers as a doll when we were incidentally at an actual bowling alley.

I thought of another drawback to my recent weight loss: my wedding ring spins around on my finger and the feel of the diamond between my ring finger and pinkie is very annoying to me. I have to take it off while typing. Not sure I can or should get it re-sized, because my knuckle hasn't shrunk...

After all this wonderfully entertaining writing, can you believe I didn't gain ONE SINGLE NEW FOLLOWER? Sigh. Guess I know who my real friends are. Just kidding. Rather, I guess my friends don't take too kindly to pathetic begging for approval.  Even if you're not willing to admit publicly that you read my blog, I know you are out there and I appreciate the verbal and email comments too.

Thanks for reading! I'll try to keep up a good momentum for a little while, and there will always be NaBloPoMo 2010 to get me back on track.  Perhaps I'll do September next year...I see a pattern emerging from my rogue blogging ways.

My plate is full (of Halloween goodness)

Not that daily blogging would ever be a breeze for me, but had there been a way for me to know one of my key employees would quit this month, I doubt I would have taken on the challenge of NaBloPoMo.  The hiring process and hours of training each week in addition to my regular workload complicated the whole ordeal.  Of course, I seem to lack the ability to monitor and limit my commitments anyway, so maybe having that advance perspective I wished for would not have affected my decision to commit to NaBloPoMo during a very busy October.

While I am pleased with the results of Blog-fest 2009, I am very glad it is nearly complete.  In addition to everything else going on this month, I decided a few weeks ago to plan a Trick or Treat party for our friends and their kids (tonight). And I had already committed to host a Halloween lunch gathering on the 30th (yesterday). So the last two days I have spent cooking, cleaning, decorating, doing dishes, and more cooking to prepare for two consecutive Halloween parties at my house.  Granted, my vision for a casual party tonight with a few friends escalated into a full-blown party with over 40 confirmed attending (I figured a lot more people would have other plans on Halloween).  I'm completely thrilled that so many people want to spend the festive evening with us, and I love throwing parties.  It's just a little bigger than I originally anticipated. Oh, and I'm leaving town on a business trip in 3 days, which means on top of everything I have to do all the usual pre-travel preparations, packing, and tying up of loose ends at home and work.  But the going away after it all is worth having a very full plate!

Mine wasn't the only full plate this Halloween. Check out the festive and spooky dishes I served to guests of my two Halloween parties this weekend:

Mummified pizza wrap

Coordinating mini-mummies

Pumpkin cheese ball

Halloween swamp dip with crispy bat wings

Cheesy ghosts

Crunchy bugs

Frozen gummy worms for ice water

Bet you didn't even know what a veritable Martha I am. I discovered a quandary tonight to keep in mind for future parties, however.  I chose 6:30 as the start time for this party specifically to avoid conflicting with family dinner times.  But guests were encouraged to each bring a Halloween-themed appetizer or dessert to share.  The result of these two provisions was three countertops loaded with platters, bowls, and plates of food, and lots of guests who just weren't that hungry.  So I begin to think that in the future, for a party where food will be plentiful, I should go ahead and schedule it earlier, so people will come hungry and eat more.  But that's a tough call, because by scheduling an hors d'oeuvres party earlier, I run the risk of people expecting a full meal and then running out of food with hungry guests.  Most of my friends escaped from my house before I could thrust leftovers upon them, so I was left with a ridiculous abundance of food. I feel terrible that I ended up throwing quite a bit away, because I don't have room for and won't be able to eat it all.  It's just impossible to predict these kinds of things I guess.  But it seems like everyone had a pretty good time, in spite of the mass chaos that 27 adults and 22 children can create in an enclosed space.

Hope you had a SUPER Halloween!

Flashback Friday: Fear is not a factor

On this Halloween-Eve edition of Flashback Friday, I'd like to tell you about one of my favorite past Halloween costumes.

A few years ago I entertained a short-lived obsession with the television show Fear Factor.  I watched all the syndicated episodes on TiVo, and loved every thrilling minute.  The adventure stunts are so creative and often involve meticulous execution of details. Fear Factor is most often recognized for making contestants eat coagulated blood balls or lie covered in African cave-dwelling spiders, but I always appreciated the extreme feats more than the grossies.  Inexplicably, I even had a little crush on the not-extremely-attractive host Joe Rogan.

But even more mind-boggling is the fact that I legitimately contemplated submitting an application to be a contestant on the show.  I actually printed out the paperwork from nbc.com and began brainstorming ideas for my audition video before I realized that my well-developed fear of falling might give reason for pause.  There are certain types of stunts I think I would skillfully complete and even enjoy in an adrenaline-junkie sort of way.  But as much as I want to believe I would be tough enough to leap from the top of one speeding gas tanker to another, I wonder if any amount of safety harness and helmet could make me to do it.  I nearly freaked out at the top of the New York New York coaster in Vegas, so I really don't know what I was thinking.

Accepting that I would be unable to select cool stunts over truly terrifying ones was only part of the cause for my ultimate verdict against applying.  The other element of import was the realization that I didn't have "the look" for Fear Factor.  Not tan enough, not thin enough, boobs not big enough. I decided to remain content watching the bikini babes and muscle men perform stunts like these from behind the comfort of my remote control:

I was, however, able to live a little piece of my dream on Halloween that year when I chose to masquerade as a Fear Factor contestant. I dressed in the show's black and yellow motif (how lucky to find that sports bra at Goodwill!), attached spiders, mice, and snakes to my clothes and hair, and even printed the Fear Factor logo on my homemade pennant flags--just like the ones contestants often have to collect or transfer as part of various formidable challenges. To complete the look, I showed plenty of skin (like a true FF contestant), including inflatable chest-pieces for maximum accuracy.

I wore this getup to work out at my Curves club, which is where this indelicate photograph was taken.  Considering I would have probably been the one crying like a little girl and demanding to get off whatever contraption from which I was pathetically dangling, I'd venture to say that I had more fun dressing up as a Fear Factor contestant than I would have had actually being one.

Dear Big Carl,

You are not a Big Mac.

Your commercials claiming to be a far superior version of the beloved Big Mac piqued my curiosity. After all, why is there an extra piece of bread in the middle of the Mac? So when I was in need of lunch and passed by Carl's Jr. this afternoon, I decided to put your assertions to the test. My taste test.

Here's the thing. You can't just copy the special sauce and compare yourself to a Big Mac. I get it. You have a lot more meat. Guess what? In my book it's actually better to minimize the amount of fast food beef I consume. All that cow was too much for me: the taste of greasy beef overpowered every bite.

And on a Big Mac, the finely shredded lettuce has a way of achieving unity with globs of Special Sauce in a way that is simply impossible for two ginormous pieces of thick, crunchy iceberg.

Mostly though, Big Carl, how can you even align yourself with the Big Mac when there is nary a pickle to be found between your measly two buns?

I regret to inform you that I will continue to satisfy my occasional Mac-related hankerings by hitting the McDonald's drive-thru. I'll pay the extra dollar because I will be able to finish more than half of the sandwich  (of course one full Big Mac is about equal in calories to just half of a Big Carl, so it's best all that beefiness grossed me out partway through). As an added benefit, McDonald's offers a huge variety of options to feed my daughter, many of them relatively healthy, compared to the chicken strips on your menu--which appeared to be the only item at least somewhat geared toward the younger palate and inferior dexterity of a child.

In closing, thank you for creating the opportunity to discover the true reason for Big Mac's bun number three.  That extra piece of plain bread in the middle of a double burger (inferior in total weight as it may be) serves to effectively mask the flavor of pre-formed beef patties (don't think that just because your patties have neat little bumpy edges I can't tell that they are shaped that way from a mold).  Because of that third bun, the Special Sauce, American cheese, and pickles really shine through.

Sincerely,

Medium-sized Kristen