We try to eat healthy, blah, blah, blah. Or at least, we try not to eat like idiots. Dave and I both like to cook, we get organic fruits and veggies delivered weekly, and we don’t eat out as much as we used to. You see where I’m going with this? We’re virtuous. (Full disclosure: I am eating Garlic and Olive Oil Pasta Roni as I write this. I friggin love Pasta Roni.)
We try not to eat cookies or sweets unless we make them ourselves. As luck would have it, I like to bake. And since I’m home with the boys and I have nothing but time on my hands, I bake sweets often. So now I have to make goddamned healthier stuff, or we can’t brag about being virtuous anymore. Gah.
However. When we are on vacation, we let the rules slide a little. When we go camping, I pick up a few non-homemade treats. For our last ill-fated camping trip, I roamed the grocery store aisles and got mixed nuts and pretzels for Dave. I got weird little freeze-dried yogurt dots and animal crackers for the boys. I strolled down the cookie aisle and wondered…what’s for me? What’s for me…?
Then I remembered, like bolt of lightning from the heavens…Mother’s Double Fudge Cookies!
My favorites! And they don’t always have them! And we were going camping! So I bought a bag of artificially flavored chocolatey wonderfulness.
These cookies. I fucking love these cookies.
Now. I’m usually one of those people who can have snacks or favorite foods around the house and not eat them all at once. Because I’m virtuous. But these cookies. I wake up in the morning and think “Yay! Cookies!” Or if I feel a pang of hunger, I think “Yay! Cookies!” Or I have my morning coffee and it’s just not the same without these goddamned cookies.
Okay? And it’s not just sheer gluttony that makes me love these cookies. When Dave and I were dating, he would spend the weekend at my place in NW. On Sunday mornings, we’d make coffee and sit in bed and eat these cookies together. It’s how we knew we were destined to be together…we were getting fat and happy.
See? Happy memories. It’s not just sugar and trans fats in a handy feed sack. They are part of our happy goddamned marriage.
Now we have come back from our camping trip and we finished that bag of cookies. And even though we are on vacation this weekend for my birthday, I’m not going to pick up another bag. Even though I love them. Want to know why?
Because I’m goddamned virtuous.
(But this doesn’t mean I won’t accept these cookies or Pasta Roni as birthday gifts. Hint, hint.)