Today's Guilty Pleasure post is hosted by author Rachel Firasek. I was first introduced to Rachel Firasek when I was asked to review her other book Piper's Fury. Review here. Since I've followed along with Rachel on Twitter and I am happy to have her take over my blog today. Please give a warm welcome to Rachel Firasek.
Take That Cookie and Die
Growing up in my neighborhood meant there weren't many extras. The 80's recession left many of us depending on each other and Mom and Dad with two too many mouths to feed. Nope, this isn't going to be sappy--promise.
At age seven, there weren't many jobs that I could do, but we had a sweet landlord who had an orchard. My parents were too proud to let him bring us a gift when he collected rent, so he put us to work for a quarter each. Sounds like child labor, right?
He'd give us these cool pecan tools and my five year old brother and I would spend hours collecting pecans in his orchard. (We played a lot, too.) When Mr. Landlord finished chatting with the tenants, he'd give us each a quarter and pat us on the head for a job well done. Score! Money! Time to eat!
We took our bounty and walked the three houses down to the corner store. Our cash bought us a small pack of cookies and a soda pop. I'll never forget spreading those cookies on the kitchen table, our two small cups filled to the brim with the sweet soda and a big smile on our faces. Now, because of our rather poor background. My brother was a terrible theif of food. He'd take any extra sweet, hide, and eat it where no one could find him. (Promise, we weren't really starving.)
So, my guilty pleasure is eating the last bite. I know that sounds nuts, but I used to let him have that last little morsel or cookie/cake/chip/etc... And now that I'm an adult and make plenty to keep everyone from going without, I've developed this phobia of someone taking the last bite. It's a sign of how crazy I really am, I know.
You'll never be able to picture the look on my sweet hubby's face when I morphed into Raetroll and nearly bit off one of his fingers when he tried to snatch the last Santa cookie on our first Christmas together. "Take that cookie and die." To this day, he warns the children to always leave me the last bite. ")
How about you? How do you feel about that last delicious bite? Can you let it go or does your family & friends fear for their fingers like mine?
Today, you’ll find her tucked on a small parcel of land, surrounded by bleating sheep and barking dogs, with her husband and children. She entertains them all with her wacky sense of humor or animated reenactments of bad Eighties dance moves.
She’s intrigued by anything unexplained and seeks the answers to this crazy thing we call life. You can find her where the heart twists the soul and lights the shadows…