Hehahahehehehahahahahahehehaha! Love!! this, L. R. and a real winner, a keeper, 
sometimes, the cravings are almost as bad as described here! smile! this is 
terrific!

Sandy
  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: steve doyle 
  To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] 
  Sent: Thursday, April 12, 2007 9:54 AM
  Subject: [RecipesAndMore] CONFESSIONS OF A CHOCOHOLIC


  Confessions Of A Chocoholic

  . . . I'm lying on the tile floor with a spoon dangling from my chocolate
  smeared mouth. With my finger I am able to write the words "MORE CHOCOLATE!"
  . . . in spilled sugar.
  Every pan is running over with peanut-butter fudge, raspberry fudge,
  Pistachio Swirl Fudge, Rocky Road Fudge . . . and walnut supreme White
  Chocolate Fudge. It bubbles on the stove, it hardens in the refrigerator . .
  . I struggle to get to my feet, slipping and sliding in the sweet cream
  butter and pure vanilla that never quite made it into the pots . . .
  In the background, the television broadcasts astonishing news! Wall Street
  is Wild! . . . Hershey is going through the roof! Buy! Buy! . . . Nestle is
  not far behind! Under piles of chocolate wrappers, I find my phone. It's
  drizzled with caramel . . . in my state of sugar ecstasy , accidentally, I
  speed dial 911.
  My life is rushing before my glaring eyes . . . as I listen to that heavenly
  sound . . . blub! Blubblub! Blub!
  . . . unmistakably bubbling fudge
  (there's no sound in the world quite like it.)
  I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the smeared microwave oven
  door -- powdered sugar in my hair. How could I have sunk so low? Don't I
  have any self-control? NO!
  My stretch pants have reached their limit.
  I stagger to the treadmill, sweep away the cobwebs - it squeaks as it starts
  up . . . okay, I'll walk it off! But I find it hard to stay on the
  treadmill, my hands still covered in butter from rolling those fudge
  snowballs. Quickly, my mind races as I calculate . . . how long do I have to
  walk on this treadmill to burn up 1,500 Calories? 2 days!
  At fifty-two miles per hour!
  I can do it!
  When the paramedics arrived, they found me -- wearing a chocolate stained
  T-shirt emblazoned with the words -- CHOCOLATE RULES! -- perched on the
  kitchen island, surrounded by 12 pots of assorted fudge.
  Calls of, "Give it up, lady! This little escapade is over!" carried no
  weight (as I had it all) . . . I refused to budge.
  "It's mine!" I called. "All of it!"
  In desperation, they brought in an experienced police negotiator -- no use.
  He might be able to talk a desperate woman down off a ledge -- but away from
  her fudge -- I think not!
  Then, they brought in my devastated husband, who pleaded with me . . . "Drop
  it, honey! Put down the spoon! Look at yourself!"
  Ashamed? Not really. But, I could see where there might be a 'tiny' problem.
  Taking one last lick of the large wooden spoon, I savored the taste of the
  'demon chocolate' as I gave up the pots -- one by one.
  It's not a pretty story, I know. But perhaps it will help someone out there
  to see where this obsession can lead. . . .
  Oh, I've gotta run -- they're coming to take me
  for a little walk today.

  Lr Smiles

  


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