You knew it was coming. The cravings are here. Everybody was expecting the crazy outlandish steryotypical crazy pregnant lady stuff: Bird's Nest Soup, Ninja Turtle Pizzas, peanut butter and bacon broilers, The Mac-Donald's McChicken, and (yes) Pickles.
But, no, it's nothing that crazy. It's funny how crazy becomes normal when you're expecting crazy; and normal becomes anti-climactic. Maybe normal is always anti-climax-ish, I don't know. It's not for me to ponder, but I think that, a lot of the time, normal is comfortable. And who in their right mind would castigate comfort?
Are you ready for the paradox?
What if, just be rhetorical with me for second, here; but what if you were in a place where the normal, the comforting, the practically-evokes-identical-memories-no-matter-who's-doing-the-re-memoring, is so unobtainable that pining for it becomes crazy? And really, we're not even talking about pining, or hankering for that matter. What we've got on our hands now is a full-blown craving. A lustful longing... for Girl Scout Cookies!
You'd be a certifiable loon if you expected the Girl Scouts to come a-knockin' in Beijing. And yet, in the East moreso than ever back home, we're very sensitive to this steadily inflating yen (double entendre!)...
While I think Kasha is crazy for denying the virtues of the Treefoil and the Tag-along, I won't argue about the inestimable greatness of Samoas and Thin Mints. Once you get going down this road, thinking cookies, you start to look at the Girl Scouts in a new light. A warm beautiful light.
And, by comparison, the Boy Scouts look like a troupe of bandy-armed do-nothings. They oughtta start selling Hoagies or Cheese Dip or something (um, because that's what expectant dads are craving right at this moment).
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