April 07, 2008 11:18 pm
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It was a sad day in the old Shaffer household when I opened the famous snack drawer and beheld a couple packages of microwave popcorn and some peanut butter crackers of an unknown age.
What’s worse was the appearance of a grandgirl half an hour later, expressing disgust with the contents of her mother’s cupboard and preparing to raid my snack drawer.
I must admit, the look on her face was priceless when she stalked back into the living room, fixed me with a glare and said, “There’s nothing in there.”
Of course, I pointed out the popcorn and crackers, which brought yet another baleful glare.
“I meant something good,” she explained, as if I was too dim-witted to realize that old crackers and unpopped kernels of corn do not a yummy treat make.
Several weeks ago, I entered into an agreement with my co-workers. A white board directly in my line of vision states it quite clearly:
“15 by Memorial Day.”
That’s 15 pounds to lose by the 26th of May, which is certainly attainable. It is also challenging for those us who live alone and have no one to frown and say, “You’re eating again?” as Hubby was prone to do.
Quite wisely, I believed, I decided to pursue that old adage, out of sight, out of mind. If I didn’t have tempting tidbits around, I wouldn’t want them, or so my thinking went.
Of course, I was wrong. There have been times when I found myself digging into the cupboard at midnight, hoping for some forgotten chocolate chips or perhaps a box of cheesecake mix lost behind all those cans of vegetables. There are times when the need for something forbidden has been so strong I’ve actually toyed with the idea of throwing on a robe and driving through the doughnut shop drive-through for an apple fritter or cream-filled stick.
Occasionally during my nocturnal prowlings, I’ll find a hidden stash in the most unexpected places. Not too long ago, after I’d nearly given up, I found a bag of gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins behind the dog biscuit jar on the dining room hutch.
There were at least two dozen coins, ranging in size from that of a dime to a 50-cent piece, still in the yellow net bag they were sold in.
I picked up the bag, tossed it in my hand and debated whether to tear into it or put it back. Could I stop with one coin, or would I eat the whole bag?
If I ate the whole bag, would I lay awake for hours berating myself for being a pig?
I suspect you know the answer. I broke into the bag. I picked out the largest candy coin and carefully unwrapped the foil. Just before I popped it into my mouth, I looked at it.
It had that white coating chocolate gets when it goes bad. And it broke into little shards instead of smooth pieces. Still, I stood and wondered if chocolate ever really went bad, and what it would do to me if it did and I ate it.
Good sense prevailed. I threw the bag away and went back to bed — where I dreamed of being a pirate with a treasure chest full of chocolate doubloons.
CATHIE SHAFFER can be reached at cshaffer@dailyindepenent.com.
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