The Donut Man Cometh...

There is a man, Mr. Bovis we'll call him, who works in an upper level management position at my company. Each Friday, he brings in two boxes of steaming Krispy Kreme donuts and leaves them on the table in the kitchen/staff room. We are all to varying degrees pleased with Mr. Bovis about this. Funny thing about Krispy Kremes, though--I thought they were from NY. That's the only place I had ever seen them by the time I moved there in my mid twenties. In fact, before I ever tried one, I went on a three year donut fast, which over time, began to include bagels, breakfast pastries, and ultimately grew to incorporate anything that could be classified under the dietary title 'bread alone'. So for years, I passed by the shops, smelled the sweet air from under the door, and restrained myself from purchase. It wasn't until I started living with a fellow who came from central Georgia that I learned these were a Southern phenomena. Well, as fate would have it, I broke the fast (once I couldn't remember why I had started it any longer) and began to experience the joy that is Krispy Kreme. Of course, in small doses, they are harmless, especially when you work three jobs, all physical, you rarely eat or sleep, and you walk about four miles a day on average. This is quite normal in Manhattan. But then I moved to Atlanta, I got married, I put on 15lbs., and I started working at a place that provides Krispy Kreme's all day on Fridays. At most, I walk 400 yards a day (and most of that is from my desk to the bathroom and back). I have two jobs, but the one that takes most of my time leaves me largely on my butt (hence, 'blogs'). The lesson here seems to be that even when we stick to our guns, they jam, because like us, they are created things, and can't hope to work perfectly. That reminds me--last Christmas I had a raspberry filled Krispy Kreme in Michigan (suddenly they put them in gas stations out there--news to me) and it was TERRIBLE. The jelly was sickly sweet and runny, and it got all over my cool wool overcoat. The donut itself tasted a bit too well traveled for me, which makes sense, when you think it had traveled just as far as I had, and I was darned near shot. The lesson here seems to be that pastry fasts make more sense in the South and the Midwest than in the Northeast. Keep these words and prosper...