Some days I’m good, I mean really good. Fruit for breakfast, salad for lunch and freshly picked, deliciously prepared veggies for dinner. But some days I’m bad, I mean really bad. Last night was a case in point.
Dinner consisted of:
- 2 beers (maybe 3)
- 1/2 bag of white cheddar “pop corners” (kind of good but kind of rice-cakey)
- 1/3 bag of jalapeno cheddar Cheetos (divine!)
- Ice cream straight from the carton
…and it was delicious and fun and naughty and oh-so-wrong but oh-so-right…
I’m not saying that this menu (or something similar to) will find its way to the “staple” side of my meal planning, but there was a moment (or two or three or six) of pure pleasure. I felt like a 12-year-old at a slumber party, like a 20-year-old sitting in the common room of my dorm.
How often do we get to have those moments as adults? How rarely do we get the opportunity to be completely and totally juvenile and not feel guilty about it?