Monday, March 28, 2005

“Oh, come give daddy some sugar,” I crooned while standing near the coffeemaker today.

“What?” asked a surprised co-worker.

In a bygone professional era when asses were grabbed and heavy objects unashamedly lifted, this kind of exchange would’ve been kosher, certifiably pareve, blessed by an enrobed rabbi in a real synagogue on a tree-lined street.

Such an era has thankfully passed, not that it matters, of course, because I was speaking to a gigantic cookie. Man! You should’ve seen the number of curves on this baby, which I suppose was infinity because that’s what enormous circles of sugar and chocolate do. And thick? Don’t get me started. We’re not talking, you know, Wheat Thins thick. We’re pulling Toaster Strudel here.

Lent is over, for those of you partial to summaries, and someone brought in a huge biscuit covered with frosting and candy. I shit you not. Do you remember the witch in Hansel and Gretel? Trail of carbs? House made of treats? Yeah, the pastry would’ve been a small window. According to your local supermarket, this–along with the Cadbury Crème egg–is approximately why Jesus went to the cross.

Believe it or not, I only ate a small chunk of cookie. During my supermarket run yesterday, I made a grab for Kellogg’s Cinnamon Swirlz and stopped, opting for oatmeal instead. Even two packets of apple cinnamon, however, proved too sweet. I felt sluggish, duller, and at the same time thrilled and strangely disappointed that maybe, maybe I’d stick with some iteration of a sugarless existence. As soon as I finish off my pantry, it’s back to the market for some corrective shopping.

What about the true meaning of Lent and Easter? By no means am I holier or any more learned, dear reader, especially when you consider how legions of poisonous frogs still follow me. Dead giveaway, wouldn’t you say? Or is my black pestilence showing again? I will say this, though. I thought over things. Read the Bible, even, and was relieved it didn’t sear my flesh or cause me to emit spectral yelps of anguish. Dare I conclude I’m not possessed, as a few fellowshippers used to think, perhaps needed to think? Sacrifice. Compassion. Selflessness to the point of death. Worthy things all, and they came to mind because I temporarily relinquished a stupid suburban item. It just doesn’t compare.