Warning: No real point to this post. Your time might be better spent cleaning lint from your belly button.
Some days just seem to have a theme. Have you noticed? Friday, the theme of the day was apparently doughnuts.
Friday morning, Antique Daddy and I went to our end-of-the-year parent-teacher conference. I was nervous, but it went extremely well. I was so proud of the things Ms. Carrie told me about my little boy — it brought tears to my eye. My mother used to leave my parent-teacher conferences weeping too, but for entirely different reasons. The good nuns did not appreciate my creativity and outgoing nature. Quirky is not a quality admired by the Catholics.
I digress. It’s what I do.
Anyway, beyond the fact that Sean has more than mastered all of the skills appropriate for his age, Ms. Carrie reported that he is well liked, respects the teachers, demonstrates self-control, is kind, and shares. And is quite funny. Is there anything more a mom could want? I think not.
After the conference, AD and I celebrated by stopping by Starbucks and basking in the after glow of parental pride. As I ordered my coffee, I spotted an old-fashioned glazed cake doughnut in the pastry case. Intoxicated by Sean’s good report, I ordered the doughnut with reckless abandon and ate it in about three bites. I could not resist. Glazed cake doughnuts are the one thing I almost never allow myself because if I eat one then that’s all I will be able to think about for three weeks and I will then spend all my free time talking myself in and out of getting in the car to go buy doughnuts.
Later that same day, I overheard on the news that a man tried to attack a woman in a doughnut shop. I didn’t catch the entire story, but that seemed like a gross miscalculation on his part. Bad move. Never get in between a woman and her doughnut. Depending on the time of the month, all that might be left of you is a powdered sugar outline.
Then finally, that night, I was watching a little late night food channel and Paula Deen and her son were making homemade doughnuts out of biscuits. I love how Paula can tease six syllables out of the word doughnut. Anyway, Paula pulled a doughnut from the hot grease and bounced it around in a paper bag full of powdered sugar and then presented it to the audience. And they applauded. For the doughnut.
Some food I would not applaud, say turnips or miniature corn. But a doughnut I would definitely applaud. I would go so far as to stand and shout Encore! for a doughnut.
See? I told you. Pointless. And you could have had a clean belly button.