The Thing About Cold French Fries...

is that they are not very good. 

In fact, they're worse then not very good; they're flat out disappointing. 

And the other thing about cold french fries is that you can't tell just by looking at them that they're going to be cold. 

And also, once you grab one and realize that it's cold, it's too late. You're already irrevocably tied to that action--the action of putting the french fry in your mouth--cold or not. 

Are you with me so far? Because I'm about to take this a step further. 

Even if you realize in time that the french fry is in fact cold, you still won't put it down. This is because, in your mind, french fries are good. And for some reason, in the two second journey between the french fry box and your mouth, your brain cannot register the simple truth that cold french fries are, well, disappointing. 

And so, while you chew the cold french fry you wish it was hot. You think about how that cold french fry is not even worth the 48 calories that are now headed toward your backside. And as you chew and process this disappointment, you pick up another french fry. 

It, too, is cold. 

----

There is something you should know about Wednesday, July 8. I was having one of those days when I wished to be E.E. Cummings. 

What? You've never had one of those days?

Weird. 

But that's not all you need to know about Wednesday, July 8. 

The second thing you need to know about Wednesday, July 8, is that it comes after Tuesday, July 7. And on Tuesday July 7 I ate cold french fries at work. 

And as I ate them, I thought about how they were like a metaphor for my summer so far. 

Which, admittedly, is weird. But true. 

And thus was born the title of a blog: Cold French Fries. 

The third thing you need to know is about the morning of Wednesday, July 8. That morning, sometime around 8 a.m., I decided that my blog needed more pictures. Because sometimes you just need a little color in life. And since I didn't have any french fries to take pictures of, I went into my backyard and snapped a shot of the desert flower out there. 

So I had a title. And a picture. 

And they were completely unrelated. 

And to make things even more complicated, I went to work on Wednesday, July 8. Even though it happens to be my day off. And I got stuck at work because of the giant rain storm that happened out of nowhere. And so I was at work until 6 p.m. I watched the rain from the window of my office, and it was inspiring, for lack of a better adjective. 

And by the time the windy rain storm slowed enough for me to drive home, the streets were flooded. I drove my car through 3-feet of water. 

And then I started laughing. Uncontrollably. Because driving my car through 3-feet of water and stopping at a red light next to a soaked boy on a moped was the best thing that had happened in Tucson in a long time. 

So I had a title. And a picture. And an anecdote. 

And they were completely unrelated. 

But what I really wanted to blog about, the reason why I needed to write, was the decisions I was trying to make. I was trying to figure out, amongst other things, if people should hold on to dreams deferred, if I should wait for falling in love to be like it is in my head, if happiness should burst or just ooze, and, if I should jump on a plane and fly to Latin America in a moment of irresponsible spontaneity. 

So I had a title. And a picture. And an anecdote. And a theme. 

And they were completely unrelated. 

And then, like things often do in life, they came together.

Because the thing about cold french fries is that they're disappointing. They're disappointing because in your mind they're going to be fantastic, but in reality they're just a cold potato that tastes like vegetable oil. 

Hot french fries, on the other hand, tell a completely different story. Hot french fries (every once in a while) are worth the 38 calories per pop. Because they take you to that place where you were 5 years old, playing in a germ-infested pool of multi-colored balls and pausing in-between rides down the slide to eat your happy meal--that place where a plastic toy worth 50 cents was the best thing that ever happened to you--that place where all your dreams could come true.

Sometimes, things are just as good in real life as they are in your mind. 

And sometimes, things are even better than you could have thought them up. 

Things like driving home through a puddle of water that makes you laugh for a good five minutes. 

And so in the end, my blog was not about french fries, or flowers, or rainstorms or even decisions. 

It was about how sometimes things are good, and about how sometimes things are bad. 

It was about how things, completely unrelated, can come together to make you feel like E.E. Cummings--which can make you feel like your dreams came true.

It was about how life has a tendency to surprise you. 

For better or for worse. 

And sometimes you just have to jump in.

Because, in the end, the only way to find out if a french fry is cold or hot, is to eat it. 

So, did you get all that?