Another weekend of “balls and braces” has passed. This is my new term for those weekends that I take one or more of the kids to Whitehorse for sporting events and orthodontic work. There have been many such journeys over the past couple of years; so much so that when people ask about Dawson recreational opportunities, I glibly respond that on weekends, we like to drive to Whitehorse.
Another notable aspect of these trips is the inherent opportunity for dietary transgressions. What could be more stimulating, after prolonged periods of personal restraint, than experimental observation of the effects of self-indulgence? Who could have ever imagined the joys that this year would provide?
Coffee is generally one of my first dietary infractions when I find myself succumbing to temptation “on the road.” And with alarming consistency, the taste of real coffee is always less enjoyable than that conjured up in my memory.
But soon enough, I find bread, and that’s a different story. Whether it is a bun with butter, or garlic toast, or a muffin, donut or morning toast, it doesn’t matter. All forms of pastry are absolutely enthralling, urging me to have just one more… And so I do!
The grains are satisfying, quelling the emptiness that is so familiar to me now. But, the downside is some bloating, which unfortunately is paired with enough gas to make the concealment of dietary misdemeanors problematic. Between the caffeine and the grains, my guts awaken! The grumbling and gurgling, I feel, is almost orchestral.
Sadly though, my family is disinclined to appreciate the musical genius contained within my body. And to this, I remind them of the notable scientific advancements through personal experimentation, and that my gas production affords them a critical role as participants in this ongoing process of discovery…