What happened to my goal to only eat sweet 3 times a week? (Sweets meaning baked goods, ice cream, and candy...not sugar in general. Goodness.)
Peppermint Stick Ice Cream happened.
Once upon a time, Aaron and I were at Sunflower Market (that same time Aaron revealed his hidden talent). We walked past the freezer section. I gasped, stopped the cart and stared into the freezer to see shelves filled with Peppermint Ice Cream and Pumpkin Ice Cream. Aaron said he had never seen such an expression of pure joy and excitement on my face.
That was back in the month of October, when I was fighting hard to reach my goal. I pushed the cart away and said no!
A few days ago, I found myself, yet again, in a grocery store (not Sunflower Market). I walked past a freezer case strategically placed at the end of an aisle and saw that it was full of Farr's Peppermint Stick Ice Cream. I grabbed a carton, put it in the cart and moved on. No second thoughts.
You may be thinking that I simply lost my moral fiber, caved under temptation, and should never be trusted with sweets again. I, however, would like to believe that I still have a somewhat strong will against the deliciously tasty enticements of sweets. I argue that I was merely a pawn of two things.
First, the crafty and cunning market placement techniques of the Macy's employees--namely the well placed freezer case and the terrible fluorescent lighting that makes me search for anything that will bring the joy back into my life. Sunflower Market is joyful just walking into. You don't need ice cream to fill the despair that fills your life just by entering the store.
Second, Grandpa made homemade peppermint ice cream for Sunday dinner just days previously. As we were savoring it, he threw out the idea that he should get a larger ice cream maker for Christmas so that we can all have more than "little tastes" of the ice cream he makes nearly every week. Some relative at the table--who will be left unnamed so that persecution will not befall them--said this (try not to gasp):
"But a little taste is always just perfect!" (GASP)
I told Grandpa that I fully support his purchase of a bigger ice cream maker. He wetted my palette for peppermint ice cream with his "little taste" and the desire grew in me like a puppy on steroids and it needed to be fully satisfied. Perhaps I could have gotten my fill that Sunday, if only Grandpa had a larger ice cream maker. Then this terrible affliction of having my own carton of ice cream in the freezer would never have stricken me.
If neither of those explanations were satisfactory in explaining my moral weakness, then perhaps this post of my sister-in-law's may be the answer. So many of my life's questions and struggles answered in one thought...
In an alternate reality, I am made of ice cream.