If you ask Chris, he would tell you I double fist my french fries, and I eat them like the world is about to end. He is right. I am not talking about drive-through french fries, I am talking about the perfect thickness, not too thin that they are crunchy/hard, and not so thick that they are almost pulpy in the middle, with just a slight crunch, and golden in hue. Topped with just the right amount of salt, and I am in heaven. Oh, and he is right, I will double fist them and fight you for what is left in the bowl.

Recently I finished reading “I’ll Seize the Day Tomorrow” by Jonathan Goldstein. The author writes a chapter for each week of the year leading up to his 40th birthday. It was not an amazing book, but interesting enough that I finished. He weaves humor throughout the book, and this particular quote, made me think about my two-handing my french fries:

“If manners are going out the window, then I’ll say this: Quit double-fisting the strawberries. I might want to have one myself.”

“How dare you!” he yells. “You’re the double-fister! Remember that time I ran into you on the street and you were eating from a bag of Cheerios with your left hand and a bag of Fritos with your right? Coming down the street you looked like you were wearing mittens.”

“I was wearing mittens.”

“Even worse! What grown man wears mittens?” page 35

Maybe it is all things salt. I am sometimes known to do the same with chips. Just the other day while stuck in our house due to all the snow, Chris and I had lime chips and guacamole. Before Chris had even one chip I had already made a dent in the bowl. He had gone into another room to get something and when he got back he said “hey, leave some for me.” Dig in quick buddy, you have got nothing on me. A little salt, some french fries or chips, and I am a goner.