Yesterday we shortsightedly chose to celebrate American Independence by visiting the most available all-American instution in the world. Yes, that's right, we chose for the first time in the history of our relationship to eat at McDonalds. First let me just say, we knew better. We really did. But where else could we enjoy a burger and fries, complete with an American apple pie? It seemed only fitting to do so. Still, around here the answer to that question is "only at the golden arches." Sure- the burger was small and the bun stale, ketchup cost $.35 per packet and the pie was over fried. But it was an American tradition. It wasn't until we arrived back home about an hour later that both of us began to feel sick and slow and heavy. We vowed to never do it again, no matter how enticing the familiarity of the place may ever seem in the moment. We will be true to our own American tradition and forever after ignore Ronald's "wee beady eyes, saying," So, you're going to [eat my burgers]." We avoided it before, we shall do it again.