Midnight Saturday waffles after a low carb week are the best!
Tonight was my one cheat meal for the week. It's been salads and chicken breast and protein powder for as far as the eye can see all the week long. I've been lifting weights and running daily for a charity called Diminished Bottoms by Valentine's Day. So far I'm the only participant... that I know of... I am accepting donations as protein powder is expensive.
My man made me the wondrous waffles. What a wonderful waffle making man I have! He deserves an extra special cuddle after all his hard work.
Nothing makes a woman fall more deeply in love than a huge plate of syrupy carbs topped with sliced bananas, powdered sugar and berries galore.
As I slowly indulged in sinfully delectable, homemade waffles tonight I became contemplative. Philosophical.
I waxed romantic about the waffles in my plate on my lap. I curled up on the couch like the Queen of Sheeba and considered the confection.
Waffles, I have decided, are the Daddy.
The Daddy is supposed be Big, Thick, and Substantial. He should have a deep commanding voice, as waffles do.
The Daddy should hold down the fort. There would be no fort without The Daddy.
The Daddy should stick your ribs and fill you up. You should feel full after an encounter with The Daddy. The Daddy should fill you up.
The Mama, on the other hand, is the syrup. Mama is sweet. Kind. Gentle. Sticky? Ok... not sticky... But sweet.
The Mama is the glue, you see. The Mama sticks everyone together. Without the The Mama The Daddy is nothing but a lonesome sniveling pile of tasteless bready substance who can't find his own socks.
Which leads me to the babies.
The berries are the babies. They cling to the Mama and the Daddy. They stick and stick and stick. They are delicious to the soul. Nutritious. Babies are delicious and nutritious.
Babies have various personalities that must be attended to in creative fashions. You very rarely see a family with 4 blueberry children. It's a rare case to see that. That would be too easy.
Instead you find families with soft mushy banana babies that don't want to stay on the fork because they fall apart at the smallest hint of trouble.
In that same family you might find a sliced strawberry baby who is sorta rebellious and tart with a smart/disrepectful retort for everything.
And don't even get me started on the raspberry child. That child has the devil in her from the start. All you can do for that baby is love her extra hard and hide your valuables.
As I ate my waffle I became happier and happier and fuller and fuller until I hit rock bottom. TOO MUCH! OH! OH! OH NO! IT WAS WAFFLE OVERLOAD! My tiny tunny was stuffed too full of family.
I looked at the half eaten waffle on my plate and what do you think I saw?
That's right.
The disintegration of the family.
It was a sobering moment.
