A new kind of comfort

It strikes me that my biggest problem with food is that I turn to it for comfort and entertainment, and that if I could stop doing that, I’d likely shrink to Mary-Kate and Ashley proportions (yes, both of them, to shrink to the size of only ONE of them would make it quite difficult to lift a whisk). The difference between me and the average food-as-comfort person, is that while they find solace in the bottom of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, I find solace in trying to create an exact copycat of the recipe. While they feel all their cares melt away after eating a pan of Mac N’Cheese, I feel MY cares melt away when I MAKE the Mac N’Cheese. How has this lead to me not being so thin I’m technically invisible? Well, somebody has to eat it.

Right now I have a refrigerator full of eclairs, a cake dome filled with chocolate cinnabon cake, a fiance who is stuffed so full of huevos rancheros that he’s actually physically ill and hasn’t moved from the couch in the past hour, and all I want to do- ALL I WANT TO DO- is make a cheesecake using Cap’n Crunch as a crust. I think it would turn out brilliantly. I LOVE Cap’n Crunch. I was proposed to using, in part, a box of Cap’n Crunch, and I want to use it as a base for cheesecake. But I can’t do that, since I would then have nothing but a house full of confectionaries and nobody to whom I can feed them. Texas, for this reason, is crappy. In Colorado, I would have just thrown a dessert tasting, invited people over for liquor and sugar, and we would have demolished it informally and with little fuss. Here, well, the only people who will eat it are Chris and me, and we don’t want to end up looking like the typical Texan. Also, I want to go outside. DESPERATELY. I want to go for a hike or a bike ride or a run or SOMETHING, but I can’t because it’s 10 million degrees outside and Chris doesn’t feel well and there are killer bees.

Seriously, I think I need to be rescued from this place before I’m turned into either a chronic food-waster or my life plays out like What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.

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