Big Dipper

I have an affinity to onion dip and Ruffles potato chips. I love the ease of popping open a tub of sour cream and mixing in a package of dry onion soup mix and concocting one of God's great gifts to the snack world.

If I had my druthers I would make dip for dinner and sit with the bowl in front of me digging through the bag of Ruffles potato chips for all of the chips that are folded in half. The ease of dipping a folded chip far surpasses the flat chip that barely fits into my mouth. If no folded chips are available I like to pile up three smaller chip into a chip sandwich and scoop up a mound of onion dip. A sandwich of chips doesn't fall into a heap of cracks and crumbs like the single chip often does.

The other night I was privy to finding a chair at a table brimming with snacks. I scooted my chair right next to a bowl of onion dip and Ruffles chips. I wasn't terribly hungry but couldn't pass up this golden opportunity. My last chip and dip indulgence was probably the fourth of July and no one should have to wait that long between chip and dip sessions.

After about my seventeenth dip I felt uneasy. My stomach was in knots and felt angry. I took a break from my dipping and seated myself away from the taunting bowl of dip.

Three days later I am still suffering from my hot date with Onion Dip and Ruffles. I definitely had too much of a good thing. I am not completely swearing off onion dip and Ruffles potato chips, but for now, if Mr. Onion Dip or his friend Potato Chip guy text me, asking if I am available for a date, I may dismiss the text entirely. For now, we cannot see each other. We need some time apart. Last time we were together I was hurt. That hurt still needs healing. Perhaps next month we can begin dating again, but for now, it is still too soon.