Friday,
January 4, 2008

Sometimes, you just need a doughnut

In my life, I have been lucky enough to dine at fine restaurants, the homes of superb cooks and other locations where excellent comestibles were on offer. I have had tea-smoked duck, the tenderest sirloin and most succulent lobster, mouthwatering gourmet pizza, fresh-caught salmon, and other delectables.

I have also been blessed with the experience of eating some incredible desserts. Triple crème brûlée (vanilla bean, chocolate and Grand Marnier) at the Wyndham in Chicago, baked Alaska at the Cliff House, homemade crepes with fresh strawberries at my friend Lisa's house, and the best cheesecake on the face of the planet are just the beginning of the list.

That being said, I found myself with a craving this evening, a craving most like brought on by my special "lady time" suddenly arriving this afternoon. I wanted a doughnut. And not just any doughnut -- no fancy Krispy Kreme confections, no nut-encrusted old-fashioned creation from Dunkin Donuts.

No, I wanted a production line cake doughnut encased in chocolate frosting, the cheap kind that leaves a greasy rime on the roof of your mouth. The doughnuts of my adolescence, the doughnuts that said home and comfort and that Everything Would Be All Right. And I wanted one badly enough to shower, brush my hair, get dressed and head out in near-freezing temps to hit CVS and see if they had anything.

And lo, they had the little packs of six mini-doughnuts, each with its protective coating of petrochemicals masquerading as "choco-flavor". I purchased one pack and ate the mini-doughnuts one after another, not savoring them but gobbling them (these are not delicacies to be savored, after all), the poofy cake texture squishing under my teeth, the resistant frosting retaining integrity under the lashing of tongue and saliva until it gave up and dissolved, coating my upper palate with that familiar waxy layer.

And I remembered that sometimes, it's good to be bad.

Holy crap. I feel human again

I don't know if it's the onset of the crimson tide that took its own sweet time (over three weeks late, and no, not because of the obvious reason -- my ovaries have minds of their own), or all the sleep I've been getting this week, or the sudden influx of mini-choco-flavor donuts last night, but wound 4:00 PM this afternoon I suddenly felt pretty damned good for the first time since December 23rd.

And because I'm not 1) aching 2) depressed 3) sick 4) cold 5) all of the above for once, I added a K onto a short story (my return to real SF for the Warrior Wisewoman antho) and came up with a dilly of an idea for another short story while napping this afternoon. I need to finish "A Fertile Soil" and send that off, then start working on "The Annex."

Man, it's nice to be back!

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