I ate 4 cookies last night. I made them last week and did not eat one...until I was alone, exhausted and feeling like I needed some lovin'. Fairly predictable in my battle with weight but...
I have spent the last three days immersed in food and teenagers. On Thursday night, my Mac and I bought food for the youth group at church to prepare to sell at a garage sale. The menu consisted of regular and veggie breakfast burritos, hamburgers, hot dogs, brats along with chips and soda. All the things that make Americans the lean, mean fighting machines that we are. On Friday night, 15 teenagers and I cooked the eggs and sausage for assembly line burritos. When that was over, I went home, slept and showed up bright and early Saturday morning to supervise. Around 10:30, the grill started and we sold lovey burgers, dogs and brats all day. It was a good day and it had just begun...
When it was over, there was enough time to clean the grime off and get to the next eating extravaganza...the end of band camp Pot luck.
Let me tell you something...I love a good pot luck. Some people don't because they worry about where the food came from. Not me. I could care less if the cat walks on the counter after he left the cat box, or the cooks never washed their hands after they left the bathroom...it doesn't matter. I love the way the table fills with red, bubbling pasta dishes and funky salads, the way the dessert table has chocolate delights and the how after you've made one pass, someone who is late brings in another pasta dish to feast on. It did not dissappoint last night. There were spagetti and meatballs, lasagna, baked ziti, ravioli...everything you could think of pasta-wise. We put the tables together and there was probably 30 feet of deliciousness on those tables. It was a sight to see and I should have taken a picture.
I didn't eat a bit of any of it. Not a bite.
I ate a piece of baked chicken and drank a water...that's it, nothing else.
After the band showed the crowd what they have been doing for the last week, the committee cleaned up and we all went home. My youngest went upstairs, showered and I heard him call down to say goodnight...
It was silent in the house and while I was sitting at the kitchen table, I heard a whisper from the tupperware sitting on the stove. I walked over to see if I was hearing things and it was that tupperware full of cookies I made last weekend and never tried. Now by this point, I think I must have been delirious because all of the thoughts that I had watching people put food on their plates at the potluck, all the folks eating brats smothered with ketchup and sweet relish and all the sadness and excitement over my son going to college came flooding back. The voices in my head began to sing about how good those cookies were going to taste and how they know I will feel so much better once I get those cookies in my mouth and wash them down with an ice cold glass of milk.
I placed 4 carefully selected cookies on a paper towel, poured a big glass of milk and sat down at my computer. For a second, as I was chewing, I did feel better... like what I imagine one of my patients feeling when the liquid morphine soaks in their cheek. Except, it didn't last long and with each bite, I realized that eating these cookies weren't the answer...actually, food is not the answer. I am not so sure I know what the answer is but 4 cookies with milk didn't solve the turmoil in my skull. What it did do though, is taste pretty dang good, wonderfully stick to my teeth and make me think about how good some foods are and maybe, just maybe I could eat them occasionally.
Problem solved, right? I had my epiphany with food...finally after 48 years. I think not. This morning, guess what? The tupperware was calling to me again about how since I blew it last night...how about a few cookies dipped in my coffee. Nope, I am rested, strong and will pass that one up. Yes, and I think...as a matter of fact, I know, I will bag them up and take them down to Salida today for the boys to have when they go backpacking.
Those cookies are leaving my house, hopefully to never be heard from again...
We'll tawk tomorrow,
I love you all,