That's the Way (Uh-huh, Uh-huh) I Like It! or My Chocolate Ice Cream Epiphany
I just got back from Bruster's. I went there out of loneliness . . . My roommate is gone. She's sleeping at her new house for the night, and in a month, she'll be gone for good. Her fiance is stealing her away from me. :(
Well, I decided I needed some ice cream to curb those lonely feelings, and I needed to get out of my nearly empty apartment. (Jackie owns almost all of the furniture.) So I walked over to Bruster's to buy my favorite: a single scoop of chocolate ice cream on a cake cone. Nobody (but me, it seems) gets plain chocolate ice cream, so imagine my surprise when the teenager on the other side of the sliding window said, "We're out." What? How can this be?
"Really?" I asked.
"Yep, surprisingly, we're out."
What was I going to do? "Well," I muttered, "Can I have a sample of the mint chocolate chip?" I know very well that I do not like Bruster's mint chocolate chip. But what else am I supposed to get? "What is Fudge Ripple?" "Tin Lizzy?" "Okay. Okay, I'll get Tin Lizzy."
Tin Lizzy was definitely going to be a winner. And I was trying something new -- something I don't do often. When I took my first bite, though, I knew it wasn't a match made in heaven. Darn it! That's nearly three dollars wasted!
In that moment of disappointment, my mind recalled a past incident of trying new food. I was at my favorite Atlanta Mexican restaurant, El Torero, with a few friends. When I ordered the old standby, a chicken chimichanga, Kevin asked, "Don't you ever order anything new?" It prompted a discussion about trying new dishes at restaurants. The argument was, of course, that I should try new foods. Sean posed this question: "What if you go for 26 years eating the same meal everyday?" Well, Sean, what if you do? "What if there's something better, and you miss it?"
After thinking about this question for some time, I have to say that his argument is rubbish. I don't think there's anything wrong with liking something and knowing that you like it so much that you want it again and again and again. Sometimes I try new food, and I like it. More often than not, I don't like it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I just know what I want pretty quickly. I know my tastes so well, that the dish I pick first is usually the one I like the best. Yes, there may be something better, but chances are that I've picked the best for myself, anyway. Besides, I think there's something inherently wrong in living life with the attitude that there might be something better. What if there isn't? You'd end up wishing you'd gotten what you knew you liked in the first place. Perhaps people ought to be satisfied with what they presently have. Why do people always want to see what's behind curtain/door number three? But . . . I'm starting to philosophize on more than just food . . . ;)
The point is, is that after I took a few bites of Tin Lizzy, I knew I didn't want it, and I knew there is nothing wrong in knowing what you like and getting it -- even if it is for the twentieth time.
This whole thought process occurred in the span of about two minutes -- the brain is absolutely amazing -- and after those two minutes passed, I walked straight to Kroger, dumped that stupid Tin Lizzy-filled cone in the nearest trash can, and bought myself Mayfield Chocolate Almond ice cream. I rented "Ratatouille" (which I've seen already), and walked back home, feeling quite content with the night's selections.
Hey, people can try new things, if they want, but I'm not going to feel bad about sticking with the things I like.
Thing I'm thankful for: divine guidance and care.