J is for Junk Food

Here is literally my eleventh hour post.  It's 11:18 EST and I have not been home since 8:30 this morning. I've traveled to at least five counties in Maryland, DC, and Virginia today, and I am whooped.

The reason I was in Virginia was to accompany my husband to buy his new car!  But let me not get sidetracked talking about that beautiful speed demon that I got to drive part of the way home.


Four hours ago I was hungrier than an I-don't-know-what (how's that for an 11th hour analogy?)
and went on the hunt for a vending machine in the car dealership.  You'd think that they'd throw all the food in for free, but that's a whole 'nother post.  What I really wanted was Chinese food, but last I checked,  Kung Pao chicken doesn't vend easily.

Anyway, I found a machine and was going between sweet and salty, AKA the lesser of two evils.
As I scanned the vast array of nutritious and  delicious options, one caught my eye.

Butterscotch Krimpets.

While I'm sure they contain no natural ingredients yet deliver a taste I'd give my eye teeth (and half my others) for --or as a result of-- I LOVE Butterscotch Krimpets. Light and airy, quintessential angel food cake, so slathered with copious amounts of buttery scotchery frostery, so delightfully sticky that fingers retain the gooey goodness long after the vitamins and minerals have made their presence  absence   presence known.

One look at those Krimpets and I was back in the high school cafeteria selling my birthright squandering my milk money (25 cents) plus a nickel (bummed from a friend).  My poor mother--
she was so careful to give us anything BUT junk food. She was a "crunchy mama' long before anyone had heard the term. We ate okra and peas right out of the garden, for goodness sake. And here I was, behind her back, with Daddy's hard-earned money, using my protein drink money on monkey dung.

Here I was tonight, umpthirty (i.e. way past umpteen) years post-high-school-cafeteria and I'm contemplating forfeiting not a QUARTER but a DOLLAR for Butterscotch Krimpets.

Do I dare?

Had age not sprouted wisdom as generously as unwanted facial hair? Would I still make a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad decision to say yes?

No, I did not.   Krimpets would not get the victory.


M&Ms did.

Lesson learned: nothing except that I can now agree when my friends from high school see me and say, "Why, you haven't changed a  bit!"