Goes together sort of like bacon and eggs, huh?
We have the nicest neighbor. I met her when she hooked up to our water because hers was frozen. All the houses on the block are hooked up to each other and us by hose. I run the water 24/7. For some reason we did not freeze so we are the source of water for the neighborhood.
Anyway, she has taken to bringing me fudge. This is not your quickie marshmallow fudge. This is real old fashioned cooked fudge. Like your grandmother made. It is marvelous. I am a happy child again eating it, or should be. Our neighbor is a Private Eye. It says so on her door and business card. "Cowpoke Detection Services, On Call 24/hr We Come To You." My husband is a prosecutor so I know there is crime here, but in a town of 1800 people gossip seems to be as effective as a private investigator. But she is in business. She is on the far side of fifty- five, has light red hair and too tight clothes. She also has a cat named Sassy, a little beagle to whom I have yet to be introduced, a horse and the newest nameless member of the family. He is a little beat up tom kitten she found freezing to death on the roadside. He follows Sassy around who follows the beagle around who follows Carol around as she feeds her horse. The horse is in a corral across the street. (About half of the houses in the town have corrals and horses. Some one also has a goat because I can hear it.) The horse just lost her foal. Carol cried when she told me. Every early morning she shovels her way across the street and feeds the horse. She then gets in her old pick-up and presumably spends the day detecting. She sometimes comes home late at night and looks dog tired. She is a single lady. Detecting does not pay very well by the looks of her clothes, house and car. She builds a snowman in her yard with each new snowstorm. And she brings me fudge.
I am crying as I write this. Such fudge as this lady gives should bless me for days. But I won't let it. Instead of savoring the love and flavor I gobble it all down immediately and then feel selfish and sick. I then go on a hate fest. This last one was so bad I even forced myself to do penance for the fudge. I shoveled snow for five hours off and on. My right shoulder still hurts.
Morals of this sad tale. Eat and enjoy the fudge one piece a day. Share fudge with husband. Learn to receive. Give as I have been given to. Amen.
Take care of yourselves. Love Bea
4 comments:
I love your writing, honesty and striving.
What is it within us (compulsive overeating types) that will not allow us to enjoy the small pleasure, the one bite. Some say it's addiction (it's beyond your control); others say it's defense (against unconscious fears and conflicts); still others say we all have a devil that tempts us (and it's up to us with God's grace to resist!). But what fantasy is being fulfilled when we eat it all -- that the fudge will disappear, we'll never get any more, we'll never have this feeling again?
As the epigrammist Ashleigh Brilliant says, in paraphrase: How is it that we reach excess without even realizing we passed through satisfaction?
Have thought a lot about your comment. Why did I have to eat that whole plate of fudge at one sitting?
1. Fear. If I don't eat it all right now I will never get any more.
2. Zoning out. During the time I am eating my ever present anxiety stops. I do not worry about not meeting my own expectations.
3. Chemical. Once the sugar hits my blood stream it calls for more.
Scary that last one. Will I never be able to eat a piece of fudge without then wanting the entire plate. Pooey.
Fudge is buzz food for me, like a drug really. Give away as much as possible, that's my suggestion, share it. It is hard not to accept gifts of food, I pass them on if I get them, as much as possible, like the bottles of wine I used to get for Christmas after I quite drinking.
Forgive yourself for the fudge episodes, you are going to be all right. Really.
Oh how I could identify with your post. If I have one bite of fudge, I could eat an entire plate full and then everything else in the house. I'm like that with any sugar - and I think it is mainly a chemical thing. I have learned that I can get by with a dessert with supper because the day is almost over. But if I have it earlier in the day the rest of the day turns into an eat fest.
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