The next day was our staff retreat. Every year we go to Cedar Springs, just over the border, and listen to speakers, eat chips, sing songs, and share beds with our colleagues. Cedar Springs boasts man-made ponds, tame swans, and ornamental cabbage (I find ornamental cabbage -or kale- to be a very strange thing to decorate flower beds with, especially when I've been served coleslaw every year -- which I highly doubt is coincidental). The food is usually pretty decent - think good, wholesome grandma food.
During dinner we began talking around our table about Lent. Some of us had decided to give something up for the forty days. However, it came up that you can technically have a break on Sunday from whatever you were fasting. Some people at the table stated that if they had decided to fast from something, then they wouldn't partake, even on Sundays. The whole go big or go home concept.
In my classic Cheryl manner, I said in a sort of veiled way, "Well, there would be some things you would DEFINITELY partake in if you were allowed to on Sundays." Naturally, I was given a few blank stares, which I was not expecting. I awkwardly continued, "Well, I mean, if you were giving up sex, you would surely need to, you know, on Sundays. People have natural urges, you know."
Oh, my, I did not just say that, did I? A table full of elementary school teachers (whom I don't know), young T.A.'s, unmarried females, and an art teacher (who I think was secretly smiling) looked at me with potatoes and roast beef kind of hovering in their mouths. It occurred to me that these elder elementary school teachers (the kind that are like human teddy bears) might not really talk about things like sex at a dinner table full of strangers. Hah! High school teachers do!!
Sidebar: In my defense, on Sunday our pastor had said that back in the day the Catholics would fast from sex, even, during Lent. a) I assumed everyone would know that. b) Thank you Jesus that I'm not Catholic!All right, so that was dinner. Around came dessert time, and out of the magical kitchen (wo)manned by ladies with bun hair, appeared these squares with cream cheese filling, and chocolate pudding on top. It looked pretty good. Except, with my big fat mouth, everyone knew I couldn't eat chocolate. However, I never specified which KIND of chocolate, and clearly pudding is in a totally different category than, say, chocolate bars. I had a whole table witness my first step into denial and also my first strike as a faster. The dessert wasn't really that good, though. I think my guilt tainted its choclatude.
So it was pretty much downhill from there. I kept accidentally consuming chocolate. I mean, hot chocolate doesn't really count, does it? And then Heavenly Hash ice cream was on sale, and I bought it (sort of forgetting it's laced with chocolatey goodness), and then I wasn't about to let my husband eat it in front of me (so I solved that by having it with him).
All this time, though, I was still telling people I was fasting from chocolate. In my heart of hearts (yes, that's a real place), I still believed I was going to be able to make it forty days. I received a reality check, however, when Andy commented that he thought my chocolate intake had actually DOUBLED during my fast. Hm.
I have now decided that I am giving up giving up chocolate for Lent. Two things. Even better.
