Day 19: in which I whine a little

Yesterday, I picked up some necessities at the grocery store. I needed some salad dressing, which is on the same aisle as the honey. In fact, I picked up the honey and put it in my cart. It's only $8. I was buying other basics, like pasta and juice. Things we eat. We eat honey. I could make peanut butter balls for my daughter with the honey. See, it's not entirely for me. It's for my family, such sweet, precious people.

And I realize: my problem is not eating what I have. My problem is spoiling myself. Poor me has been eating mango preserves every morning this week. I thought it was really fun to make those preserves: I used up some mangoes (last summer); the preserves came out a funky yellow color. I gave some away. People smiled at me.

It's all fun and games until someone has to eat the last jar. Someone who would rather have honey.

I put the honey back on the store shelf, by the way.

Stupid honey is turning out to be a mirror to my self-indulgent soul.

I really love to cook. I spent a little time yesterday rearranging the inside freezer: meat on the top shelf, then breads, then fruits, then veggies. There seems to be a lot of juice concentrate in the door. Why do I have that much? And why are some of them open? I think it was for a recipe sometime. I wonder if I dump them all in a pitcher, add water, if my husband would drink it. Mystery juice. That sounds fun.

But I digress...the second shelf of the freezer is full of baked goods, because I just wanted to make muffins and scones recently. They were my favorites, not really something that the family liked. And now guess who has to eat them? I am moving farther and farther away from my simple biscuit and honey breakfast.

The next time I have the urge to cook or bake some delicacy, I am going to have to ask myself: who will be eating this? If I don't have an immediate answer, I better find some other activity to take my time.

Laundry does not smell as good as hot, fresh scones.

But this had better be my new reality. I am only packaging my self-indulgence in a productive, enjoyable habit. If I were my child, I would probably be lecturing me.