The term DH was spawned this weekend on a sidewalk in Bend. Sam and I went over there for the Pole, Peddle, Paddle. I did the downhill and paddling portions and the whole thing went like clockwork. I began the race on time, so things went infinitely better than last year. We got 6th place and substantially improved our time! Not quite champions, but still winners.
But anyway, back to the dumplings. This thing happens when I get hungry, and it's totally horrible. I go from being a charming, intelligent young lady, to a mumbling, irrational savage. I am filled with despair. I give up on life. And woe to the person who happens to be with me, attempting to help (i.e. Sam). I am not going to do a complete reenactment of the situation because I would lose all credibility. Plus, Sam would probably feel misrepresented, as this is the sort of thing that deserves both sides of the story. These are the facts: Sam purchased a dumpling from a man with a food cart and a ponytail. And then we got in a fight about the dumpling.
Even in the midst of this fight, I knew it was totally, obscenely ridiculous. The whole thing was so juvenile that I couldn't even justify it to myself. That didn't stop me from continuing on, bludgeoning reason out of the way, crossing my arms, and refusing the last bite of dumpling. Sam, in fact, threw the last bite away, because we were both too stubborn to eat it.
Once the dust settled and we walked away from the scene of the crime, we both acknowledged it was ridiculous and moved on with our lives. We got dinner and I became myself again. However, we have also discovered that if I am "dumpling hungry" or DH as it is now known, things need to be remedied quickly. For all I know, Sam is planning on packing Cheerios in a baggy for our next adventure out of town.
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