If you visit my parents’ house, or Memaw’s, or virtually any southern home, at least once during your visit you’ll be offered something to drink and eat. Coffee and cake, tea and cookies, wine and cheese, and so on. Not a full spread, mind you, but in less than five minutes, these people can put a little plate of something on the table.
At my house? On a good week, the most I can offer anyone is yogurt, fruit, nuts or cheese. And water to drink. (I do have alcoholic-type beverages as well, but offering someone a yogurt sundae and a bourbon just doesn’t sound right, you know?) My pantry has lentils and oatmeal, not cookies and crackers. Not exactly conducive to spur-of-the-moment snack prep, but then again, that’s kind of the point.
I don’t completely avoid cookies and such; I just buy them individually as I want them. Or I sample my wares the few times a year that I bake something. Or I get my fill during a splurgy vacation. That plan has worked fairly well over the past five or six years, even if it has caused a blush or two when I’m playing hostess.
For the longest time, I told myself I was choosing to keep the baked goods out of the house. And that was probably true for a while. I believed it to be true.
A few weeks ago, in a conversation with a friend, I used the word “can’t”, as in, “I can’t keep cookies and stuff in the house or I’ll eat them all.” I didn’t think about it until I was on the way home, and I wondered when “I choose” became “I can’t”. And I wondered which one was true and which one I actually believed.
I love a good mystery, don’t you?
I don’t claim to have all the answers, but one of the greatest lessons I learned through all the losing and maintaining is that I am in control of my actions. I might have to wiggle and squiggle some to figure out the how of a solution, but if I believe that it’s possible, I can work my way through almost anything. (It works the same way for me in reverse: if I believe something is Im-possible, I’ll give up on it.)
So we’ll see how this goes. Considering that I’ve had this box of eight cookies for almost two weeks and I’ve eaten two–count ’em, TWO–cookies from it, I think I might be on to something.
I’m thinking that when the jar is empty, I might even break out the cookie sheet and make a dozen healthy(ish) cookies from scratch! And then hope that this:
doesn’t turn into this:
We wouldn’t want that to happen to me, would we? Not for more than a day or three, anyway. A week, tops.
And if it does, I’ll choose to step back and re-think it. Or re-overthink it, more likely. In either case, the power is in my hands.
Meanwhile, if you’re in the area and would like to drop in, please do. Chances are good that I’ll even be able to offer you a cookie. It will be up to YOU whether or not to accept it.