Chicken Chipotle

Last weekend we traveled five and half hours with Stella the Suburban.

As we arrived to our big-city destination, Lizard saw a Chipotle.

Chipotle is a strange favorite of his.  When we travel with the soccer team I can bet anytime one sees a Chipotle the chanting and begging will begin for “Coach” to take them to Chipotle.

Most of the time he capitulates, which makes me want to run for the hills (or the nearest Taco Bell, to be more specific).

I’ll just put it out there – I hate Chipotle.
Burritos should not have black beans.  Or rice.  Or be large enough to make you look like there is a wildebeest in your stomach after you’ve finished eating.

Taco Bell, while admittedly not exactly Mexican food, nor exactly using real beef (rather a beef product), is akin to ambrosia.

Taco Bell allows you to eat in the wee hours of the night if needed.  Taco Bell has creamy beans.

I’ve also recently discovered the Fresco Bean Burrito, which is in the running for the number one discovery that makes my life complete.

If there’s a need for a black bean on a burrito with rice I haven’t ever seen compelling evidence for it – nope, Taco Bell is the way I roll.

So, there we were at a stop light at the end of our road trip and Lizard was salivating over Chipotle.

I rolled the window down and took a fresh breath of non-roadtrip funked air and said, “Ah!  That smells good!”

“You’re smelling Chipotle!” my husband said quickly.

“I’m definitely not smelling Chipotle,” I responded.  Nothing good comes from the rice burrito place.

Lizard gestured to the Jiffy Lube on the opposite corner from Chipotle and said, “Well, you certainly aren’t smelling Jiffy Lube!”

The tickled my funny bone and I started giggling about the scent of oil changes.

Uno picked up on the giggles and chirped from the back seat:

“That smells like chicken boobs?”

Instead of simply correcting her misunderstanding of what we had been saying that made me laugh harder and gasped, “No, you’re talking about breasts…”

Lizard and I were overcome with hilarity, which had probably a lot to do with the length of our road trip and the knowledge it would soon be complete.

Uno was still perplexed in the backseat, staring out the window.

She thought for a long minute and said:

“This… This is not how I dreamed it would be.”

The end.

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