Betsy and I went out for ice cream after dinner today. As I slurped through most of my one (giant!) scoop of coconut ice cream in a waffle cone and Betsy her two (giant!) scoops of cookie dough ice cream, I had two important thoughts.
Important Thought #1: Coconut ice cream is one of the best ideas ever.
Important Thought #2: Before the project, all we talked about was food, and how healthy food can taste really good. During the project, all we talked about was the project. After the project, we realized with delight that we were talking about food again just like the good old days.
But it isn't the good old days. Things are winding down: we'll be out of Toledo in less than a week. Relief, nostalgia, and perseverance are blending together like salt, pepper, and garlic in our sauteed vegetables. We're just plugging through these last few days, trying to eat up all our perishables and ration the amount of produce we buy at the market.
We aren't even eating healthy anymore. Sure, we're eating pasta primavera and tomato soup for dinner. But we've learned that we can eat plenty on $10-$15 per person for the week, and we're still both putting $20 into our food money jar every Saturday. And we're spending the extra on ice cream and chocolate.
We went out for ice cream this evening after dinner. We went out for ice cream yesterday, too, at about 5:30 p.m. somewhere between Maumee and Perrysburg. Having ice cream before dinner is kind of like... well, it's not a good sign.
A grocery store in Toledo sells champagne grapes and plays classical music; its employees wear green polos. It also sells bulk candy, and we were always careful to have a good supply of chocolate during the project -- when you're stressed, you need chocolate. As soon as our project was done, we went back to this grocery store and came back with a nutmeg grinder and a big bag of dark-chocolate-covered peanuts. To celebrate. We finished them today while we watched most of 30 Rock Season 3 Disc 1.
I sauteed carrots for a snack this afternoon. Didn't think anything of it. I made tomato soup the other day and I was pleased but not in the least surprised that it tasted like... how do you say it? my taste buds were dancing in a completely joyful and utterly wholesome way, like swing dancing without freshmen. And it didn't matter; I just ate. Good food, really good food has become mundane here at 605 Heatherdowns (not our real apartment), and we've resorted to chocolate and ice cream. And the worst part is: there are two or three other ice cream shops we've made mental notes about all summer and we only have a week to hit them all up.
Analysis? I don't know, but this is weird.