I had an insanely busy weekend. I had a day packed with stuff and my evening consisted of picking up a friend at the airport, going to church, stopping at Starbucks for a surprise party, going to Wal-Mart to buy a frozen Lean Cuisine to take for lunch tomorrow and then coming home, sending/reading emails, putting up laundry….ok, seriously I have to stop there because I’m getting overwhelmed and that’s barely half of my list.
So on my way to church, with my friend in tow, we stopped at Sonic to grab food for her. I placed her order and the employee asked if I wanted to try cinnamon bites. Wha?!?! I didn’t know what they were, but the picture on the menu delivered eye candy I couldn’t resist. The heat vapors, the warm cinnamon, the icing in cup…yuuuuuuuuuuum.
Uh, yes, I do want to try those.
Large or regular?
Regular, gosh do you think I am a pig? (Asking that second part in my head because I knew the question was more for myself than him.)
So I get the cinnamon bites, and to my dismay the icing is not in a convenient dipping cup, but rather it is in a packet, much like an over-sized ketchup packet. And though I was initially disappointed, it quickly disappeared when I realized this packaging was more convenient for squirting the frosting into my mouth between bites.
Yes, I am a pig.
I have issues, I know.
I guess that’s when my food karma began to kick in. Because my second cinnamon bite “leaked” it’s cinnamon juices all down the front of my shirt and on the thigh of my pants. Which, to add to my frustration, had just come out of the dryer less than an hour before. This posed a problem because I didn’t want to go to church with cinnamon dribble all over me! What would people think????
Then I realized how petty that was, partly because my friend in the car rolled her eyes at me and said, “Seriously Binky, that is ridiculous. I have some cropped sweatpants in my carry-on if you want to wear them.”
In my vanity I said, “What color are they?”
“Black.”
“No, they won’t go with my blue shoes. Do you have a sweatshirt or something?”
“No.”
Eventually I gave in and went to church. Then, during the prayer I bent my head down and noticed a sweet smell…cinnamon! Yum!
I leaned over to my friend and said, “Yum, I can smell the cinnamon on my shirt!”
As we walked out I said, “You know, if I could get the same effect, minus the dribble all over my clothes, I may be on to something. Like, during the midday snack attack, I could just lean over and smell cinnamon, or another flavor, on myself and be satisfied and not eat empty calories. Wouldn’t that be great?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.”
I’m pretty sure she rolled her eyes again, but it was too dark to tell…
