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Eating on the Run

May 20, 2010 - Kathie Evanoff
I wasn’t really on the run, although at times I felt like it.
There was a recent two-week stay in a hotel far, far away, but perhaps I should start from the beginning.
A few weeks ago, while I was working intently on a community newspaper, I received a call at work from my daughter.
“We got a match!” she blurted. “We have to be there tomorrow when the baby is released from the hospital!” (Normally I don’t use exclamation points, but this time they are essential to the story).
It seems that my daughter, who has been waiting for an adoption agency to call her about an available baby, did just that. Her husband (my son-in-law) is in Afghanistan, so what else could a grandma do but drop everything and go with her to bring home this lovely little boy?
And that’s exactly what I did. Less than 24 hours after she called me as I sat at my desk, I was on a plane to the deep south.
After the child was released from the hospital, we waited two weeks for ourselves to be released from the state. There’s this little thing called an ICPC, also known as an Interstate Compact for the Protection of Children. It consists of a thick packet of forms explaining the entire situation that states must pass around and confer about so that children, who are not yet legally adopted, can travel with their prospective parents.
But that’s not what this story is about. This story is about living in a hotel room for two weeks, subsisting on food that well, isn’t quite what the doctor ordered.
You would think I would have gained weight on this trip that called for frozen meals, restaurant fare and fast food, but that wasn’t the case.
Keep reading and I’ll reveal how it all played out.


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