The other day, my bf and I decided, on impulse, to go for a v early dinner at the local Mexican place. Can you say early-bird special in Spanish? Let me put it this way, I was tucking in to a 20 oz. Marguerita at a quarter to five. I managed about half of it, mostly fruit juice and melted ice don't you know, made my way through a plate of bean and cheese burritos bc no humanely raised meat or sustainable fish on the menu.
I was definitely swirly, half a Marguerita and some re-fried beans, the lights seemed excessively bright and at one point I could hear three different conversations-- the mother telling the child that re-fried was a type of bean, like pinto or black, two couples discussing the trip they took to Nashville and how awesome it was that Rodney Atkins got on the bus with them and he seemed like a genuinely nice person, and then there were two men not really talking, although I was straining to hear. It was that late afternoon looped feeling and time sped up around me. The bf drove and he had to stop at the bike shop on the way home. Thirty minutes passed in a flash as I read the slowtwitch forum on my blackberry. No recollection of what I read but not much changes there, so probably some people were discussing if Lance could beat Chrissie Wellington at Kona and others were complaining about their bike/run/swim group. By the time we were headed home, about forty five minutes post Marguerita, I was starting to feel better, more present in my body and more coherent with the rest of the world.
And I was hungry. I think this is week 2 of the baking moratorium and it hasn't gotten any easier. Once in the house, I fell onto my bowl of chocolate and finished off all of the Ghiardelli Toffee Interlude. This is my all-time favorite chocolate at the moment and with all that toffee in there I think it stretches the dark-chocolate-just-for-the antioxidants rationalization. But I don't care. I love it. I think it should be called Toffee All Day. Or Toffee Pretty Much Full Time.
When my bf came in the house a few minutes later, the chocolate bowl was empty, the wrappers were crumpled and shredded all over the counter and he said, "What, did you go berserk with the Toffee Interlude?"
As I've said, I'm struggling with the baking moratorium. I'm actually following football because if the Saints go to the superbowl, we can have a superbowl party and that means OMG brownies. I'll get to have a baking interlude.