Trembling with a Sugar High

Tomorrow is Tootsie's and my anniversary.  18 years! Can you believe it?  Jesus, I'm old.  My standard joke about how long I've been married is this:  "18 years.  If I'd killed her the day I met her, I'd be out by now." And yes, aside from the joke being incredibly crass, the sad reality is that as the years tick by, the joke comes closer and closer to reality.

Speaking of crass jokes, but otherwise a propos of nothing, here's my Dad's favorite joke:  Married couple pulls up to the curb at the airport.  Skycap asks, "Carry your bag, sir?" Guy says, "No thanks - she can walk!"  That was one of those jokes that made him laugh every single time it came up. I'm sitting here smiling at the memory.  Jeez, I guess the joke will survive the generation.

Anyway, there's a reason aside from vanity that I mention that it's our anniversary.  See, Tootsie has been doing the healthy eating thing right along with me.  We're neither one of us counting calories, but neither are we eating bad food - and by that I mean no processed flour or sugar, no high-sodium pre-processed gastric insults like Hamburger Helper - and we've been really good about it.  So we decided that, to celebrate our anniversary, we would ignore every single rule that we've set for ourselves, and enjoy a day of complete gastric indulgence.  Wheee!

So. naturally, the day started early.  Tootsie woke me out of deep golden slumber at 7:45.  On a Sunday.  Are you kidding me?  Apparently not.  So I dragged my ass out into the bathroom, still almost completely asleep, and tried to get myself ready to go.  I almost put hydrocortisone on my toothbrush.  It was dicey.

We went to our standard breakfast joint, which I wrote about when Josie spent the night at my house (that link goes to part 2 of a story; if you're interested here's part 1).  Despite the fact that I hadn't been there in months they all greeted me warmly, reasserting my status as a regular.  And I was ready to order, buddy.

Usually when I'm there I would order the same thing for breakfast every time: two poached eggs over corned beef hash, runny yolks, white toast or a grilled bagel and cream cheese if I'm feeling particularly gluttonous. But today, I had one mission and one mission only.

Pancakes.

Nothing fancy; no chocolate chips, blueberries, bananas, walnuts (ecch!), none of that cheap tat.  Just a big-ass stack of buttermilk pancakes and seventeen gallons of maple-ish syrup.  And oh my no god, were they good.  Perfectly cooked, a little crispy on the edges, great tasting, syrup-logged, they were everything my heart has been crying out for.  You know it's a good pancake session when your fork gets all sticky right away.  And my fork was indeed sticky, my cup indeed runneth over, and my coffee was indeed de-lish.

I finished my pancakes, pushed my plate away, and heaved a sigh of contentment that was a soothing balm on my wicked soul.

And then what do you think happened?  I started running my leg, drumming on the table, talking a mile a minute.  I was embroiled in the world's deepest sugar high.  I was humming and drumming and my heart was thrumming.  It was like tap dancing on a high wire. I got home thinking I would do something to work off this energy, like re-shingle my roof or something.

Instead, the sugar high wore off in about 11 minutes and, worn from the effort of actually leaving the house, I fell dead asleep for three solid hours.

Now nothing remains from my breakfast except memories, a small drop of syrup that found its way to my shirt, and most of the component parts of my afternoon constitutional - but really, the less said about that, the better. But it was worth it.  Ohhh yes: it was worth it.

The cool thing is that we still have lunch and dinner, and I for one plan on being as indulgent with those meals as I was with breakfast.  One's anniversary comes but once a year, after all.

What can we have for lunch that's indulgent and delicious, yet mostly bad for you?  I'm thinking McDonald's or KFC.  But just writing that made my stomach turn over just a little bit, so maybe not.  We'll see what Toots wants.

It's gonna be a good day today, friends. Or if not good, at least yummy.