Cue the Homer Simpson moan of total despair. Oooooooooooooh. So I went into a nearby Tim Horton's and ordered a dry, toasted bagel and a bottle of water. Those who know me know that that alone required an act of supreme will: Marty simply does not go into Timmy's and not leave without an extra large black coffee. Yet as I had burned my coffee quota before I was barely out of Detroit, water would have to do.
Yesterday morning I had to go to Springfield, Ohio on business. I was meeting my friend Mark for breakfast at the local Cracker Barrel. What would I have: the double meat breakfast with sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs, and biscuits and gravy? Or do I opt for the Uncle Herschel's, with hash brown casserole, biscuits and gravy, and a big slab of hickory smoked cured ham steak?
Heavy sigh. I had a bowl of oatmeal and a muffin.
Heading home up US 68, I thought of this Amish store north of Bellfontaine. It's a neat little store with Amish furniture and Amish arts and crafts. Plus it has an impressive food section, where among other delights of the palate you can buy absolutely the best chocolate covered raisins on Earth. I mean, these things put Raisinets to shame; I decided I'd stop in and buy some. You can eat them like potato chips.
Like. Potato. Chips. Another snack I can't have with any regularity. And these raisins are a double whammy: caffeine and processed sugar are in milk chocolate. So I drove past the Amish store. But I swear it gave me a sly wink and a come hither look as I went by. I didn't know anything Amish could do that.
Yes, I know it's for my own good. But right now, today, this new diet is just harshin' my buzz, dude.