Recycle-A-Blog

Mind as well start with some recycling, to see what this is going to look like, and if I like Blogger. Original Post Date May 21, 2006.

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Sweet Talk

On my way to the grocery store this afternoon, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. Given that I'm doing an emergency milk & dog food run and I've just left the house, I figure it's Todd phoning to tell me we're out of something else as well so I answer,

"Bread, too?"
"What?"
"Are we out of bread, too?"
"No..there's 3/4 of a loaf here."
"Oh, ok...then what?"
*pause*
"Umm...could you get me a roll of cookie dough?" (said in a very small voice)

Todd wages a daily (hourly!) battle with one of the biggest sweet tooths I've ever known. This big, strong, powerful-looking guy can be a very intimidating sight to behold; nobody would ever guess that he can be brought to his knees by merely the thought of vanilla ice-cream, a DQ Blizzard, or even the half-bag of 3 year old chocolate chips stuffed waaaaay in the back of my baking cupboard. For the most part, he does very well and over the years has gotten much better at rationing & moderation. I've finally learned to do my part by not keeping anything too junky in any great quantity in the house. Depending on how strong he's feeling, the grocery store can be a tough place for him to be. He doesn't come shopping with me often, but when he does a variation of the following can be counted on to happen.

I see him there ahead of me, staring into the cooler where the eggs are. No, not the eggs...as I get closer I see it's something beside the eggs that has his his sad attention. He is the picture of dejection. Lost in his own world, he runs his fingers lightly over the tubes in the rack...chocolate chunk, chocolate chip, double chocolate fudge...all old friends, but he lingers longest on good old chocolate chip. The cheerful Pillsbury Dough Boy seems to mock him. I come up behind him and put my hand on his back gently, "Hey, sweetie, let's go...say hello and move on."
"Hi," he whispers, "I miss you..."
As I lead him away slowly with the hand on his back, pullling the cart behind me, he gazes longingly over his shoulder. The visit is over.

Most of the time, he prevails. But on days when he is feeling particularly low & stressed, there is just nothing else that will make him feel better, and he chooses a treat. With the tow truck being out of commission, and big things happening at his other job, the past 3 weeks have been incredibly tough for him. I say good for him, he's done amazing and he deserves it. His choice today, obviously, was the cookie dough.

And I knew exactly the one he meant when he clarified on the phone,

"You know. The one I talk to."