Noticed something interesting...

The hubs and I had the opportunity to go out to dinner this past Saturday night, something that doesn't happen too often and was as a result of several events that have nothing to do with anything.  So, I'm saving that information and will just get right to the point.  (Isn't that nice of me?)

We decided to try a Mexican restaurant that we had never been to before.  To say the atmosphere was colorful is to abuse the word.  Every inch of the dining room was covered in the most brightly colored paint I've ever seen.  The depictions of people and animals and various landscapes were everywhere we looked.  I was grateful for the crappy corner booth where I sat facing the hubs against the back wall or I would never have been able to focus my attention long enough to hold a conversation.  I would say it would have distracted me from eating, but it would have had to have been much worse than it was to actually do THAT!

While we were filling up on chips and salsa, the hubs (since he was the only one who could see) noted, "How many people working here are white?"

I peered out of the booth, "None.  They are usually all Mexican."

"Uh huh, and how many Mexican people are eating here?"

"Uh...none, they're all white."

"Interesting.  What does that tell ya?"

Well, it tells me that 1) we should probably be careful how we refer to people of Latin origins while being served food and drinks by the same people, and 2) that quite possibly the food we think is "authentic Mexican" isn't really anywhere close.  That, or the kitchens of their wives, mothers, and grandmothers still serve better food   Or, ironically, they don't eat Mexican food when they eat out.

I have no idea what the reason for this "truism" is, but it's true every where we eat Mexican food here.  Regardless, I told the hubs, "now that's something to write about."  So, I did.

Confession...

I've recently confessed an addiction.  No, it isn't alcohol or drugs.  No, it isn't sex (just ask the hubs!) or anything quite that shocking.  "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been addicted to sugar for, well, most of my adult life."  Recently, I have been addicted to one source of sugar in particular:  peanut butter M&Ms.  I was buying the medium and large size bulk bags to keep in my desk at work.  When I started eating what is probably the equivalent of 2 or 3 of the small check-out lane packs PER DAY, I realized I had a problem.  And, it was a problem I needed to resolve.  My bathroom scale was starting to show me exactly how big this issue (& my thighs/butt) had become.

So, now I can say, "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been peanut butter M&M free for 5 days."  Notice I didn't say sugar free, just M&M free.  I'm crazy, not stupid.  If I were to quit sugar completely and cold turkey, I would probably find a bell tower or road rage someone off the highway.  Not good.  So, I'm just taking it one step at a time.

I recently confessed this addiction to the one member of my family who probably has the least ability to understand how addictive sugar can be as she eats almost no sugar at all.  She doesn't like cookies or cake.  She doesn't eat ice cream or even use syrup on her pancakes.  Truly, I don't get her as much as she probably doesn't get my problem with sugar.  The good news is that my confession to myself led me to confess to her which has also led me to confess in writing.  I'm now much more accountable, which I guess is part of the point of joining a 12-step program for something like alcoholism.

Today I went to the grocery and had to walk past the candy because it was literally across the aisle from the granola I wanted to purchase.  Score one for me!  I didn't even make eye contact.

But, I confess, I really, really wanted to.