The Blessing of Small Joys

One of the hardest things about loving food is that when it is time to dial it back you can feel deprived and then depressed and then you throw in the towel and eat the chocolate.  No, I have not thrown in the towel nor eaten the chocolate, but yesterday I had a little epiphany.  Something small, non-food related made me as happy as chocolate.

If you have never had any food addiction just stop reading now, because this really will sound ridiculous to you, but for anyone for whom food holds some power in your life continue on.

Yesterday Russ and I took a very long walk through a somewhat grungy part of San Francisco. We were on the quest to find the perfect incognito I-pad case for Russ.  Russ is not very materialistic.  We rarely do any shopping for him.  If he mentions he likes something I always try and write it down because he certainly won’t buy it for himself and if you ask him what he would like for a gift occasion he says something like, just cook me some bacon.

So on this cold and windy August afternoon when Russ mentions there is a store, in the Mission district that might have something he wants I jump all over it.  After all he had sat patiently on the men’s sofa of the needlepoint shop for what had to feel like a millennium while I looked at thousands of canvases.

After finding success at the I-pad accessories store, we headed back towards the hotel and passed what could only be described as a boutique liquor store.  Russ loves really peaty, single malt scotch and the Alcohol Control Board of North Carolina is not made up of the best connoisseurs of such.  We stopped in and got a great education on who was making the dirtiest scotch.  Russ was happy.

Back out in the wind with a good distance still to go we walked back to the hotel.  I felt very grimy and my feet were sore.  I got undressed, turned the shower on very hot and got in.  As the warm water rushed over me washing away all the city, my feet started to feel like when I was a kid again.  It was right then that I realized that this shower, at that moment, was better than food.

Now I know there are a lot of things better than food.  Like when your teenager hugs you and thanks you for something so minor or the way your puppy jumps up on it’s hind legs to greet you when you come home, but I don’t always accept those blessings as all that I need to feel satisfied.  So the lesson of the day is to keep my eyes wide open for the little things that make me happy, especially if they make my feet feel good.