True Confessions

I ate a piece of cherry pie Friday night.

It happened at our friends' house where we went for pizza night, a casual Friday night tradition. I brought my own food -- German style brats, cooked and sliced into appetizer-sized chunks, and Couronne cheese from my favorite cheese guy at the Troy Farmers Market. My friend -- who gets a load of seasonal veggies every week through her CSA (community-supported agriculture) -- quickly sliced cucumber and red bell pepper onto a plate. That's what I ate while the others ate pizza.

The four of us -- our hosts, my husband and me -- sat in the dining room the entire time chatting and eating and drinking (NY State wine for me). It's a lucky occurance when all six of our children, aged 2-10, play so well together. We were celebrating a birthday as well and that's when the cherry pie came out. Once I learned it was locally baked, I decided I didn't care if the baker used Crisco and canned cherries from South America. I ate and I enjoyed.

Guilt set in later. Not for breaking my diet, exactly, but whether this conscious (if impulsive) act would trigger more lapses. I also worried about how to address it here on the blog. I really don't want this to devolve into true confessions.