A Sprinkle In Time
You will never catch me chomping down on a ten-foot corn dog nor bag of Doritos. I find no temptation in things processed and deep-fried. Salt and fat are two food crimes I never commit. Sugar, is another story.
Rolled, dropped, or puffed: pastries draw me in like Sirens. Sweet, sour, or black licorice: candy pours into my life by the hand(bowl)full. Scooped, shaken, or dripping down the cone: a’la mode is my middle name. If sugar is a drug (which it arguably is), then sign-me-up for rehab.
Not that I haven’t tried to kick the habit alone, I just haven’t ever been successful. Whether I denounce sugar for lent or for weight-loss, one bad day sends me running to Ben and Jerry for comfort. I have lasted only hours, and I have endured three months without the taste of sweet. Still, a single jelly bean on the tip of my tongue draws me back to my refined ways. Often going cold-turkey; breaking off my sugar affair usually lasts only as long as my family can stand to live with Grouchzilla, and often resumes when my husband force feeds cookies until I return to the wife he once knew.
In spite of multiple failed attempts, I try again this week to pull my sugar tooth. Only this time I have a secret weapon: sprinkles.
I get that sprinkles are still sugar; call them my patch, only better. Sprinkles not only carry the sweet stuff, but also come with nostalgia. A cupcake is just a cupcake, until you add sprinkles. Sundaes are for clergy, until you add sprinkles. Whipped cream is just fluff, until you add sprinkles.
A tablespoon of sprinkles packs more power than a cheesecake, Swedish Fish, and Chunky Monkey combined. They do not simply satisfy the craving; but flood the mind with the joys of childhood, fill the soul with celebrations, and electrify the heart into the beat of laughter.
I may not kick the sugar habit all together, but with sprinkles less becomes more.
Perhaps that is the problem with abundance. Our lives can be full of gluttony while devoid of satisfaction. Maybe what our lives really need is more sprinkles.
I can have a million acquaintances, and still be lonely. I can possess much, and own nothing. I can fill my days with activities, and lack all feelings of accomplishment.
It is the sprinkles in my life that make me feel full. The 3:30 am running companion (who willingly gets up at 3:30 to run.) The older sister I spent years admiring from afar, who now allows me to admire her up close. The car that, though too small for two kids and a dog, still starts every time I turn the key. The perfect running shoes with busted seams that give me the illusion I run faster. The 30 minutes I spent training a cancer survivor, no charge. The 20 minutes I put down the laptop to make room for cuddle time with the kids.
The sprinkles in my life are the blessings I forget to count. Just like sprinkles, when I start to count them, I am always surprised how many there are.
So far today, I laced my coffee with sprinkles and tossed them with fresh blueberries. I still think my oatmeal could have used a few, but I’m trying to set a good example for the kids.
So far today, I spent five minutes with my husband before he had to go to work and napped in a twin bed with my two kids.
Life is just life, until you add sprinkles.