Like a Sore Thumb

We went last night to Kevin and Shannan's where they made chili in preparation for the section's Super Bowl chili cook-off. Mmmm, good chili. Being the good Minnesotians they are (is that what you call people from Minnesota?), they made this appetizer that looked yummy. It was a puff of mashed potatoes on top of something. We asked what it was and they said, "Just try it!" so I dutifully popped one in my mouth. "Not bad, " I said, as I tried to figure out what the heck the flavor was. Sausage? No, not quite. Ham? Not exactly. The Minnesota part should have given it away. You all know what it was, don't you? Shannan laughed as she said, "They're Spam cupcakes!" Truly not bad. I ate two more. Apparently, it's a prize-winning Spam recipe. I'm just excited that I, who's so extolled the pleasures of the Spam museum, is no longer a Spam virgin.

But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about. Last night we walked into the party, and Shannan said, "What kind of beer do you want?" I said, "No beer, thanks. How about some water?" Everyone stopped to stare at me like I was crazy. I suddenly felt very defensive and I said, "I've sworn off beer until I lose another six pounds." Everyone expressed wonder at my willpower. I can't imagine what it must be like for someone who truly can't drink. Don't get me wrong--no one made me feel uncomfortable about it, but I definitely felt like the odd person out as the only one without a drink in her hand. But I've put on ten pounds since coming to Boston and in the past month or so, I've dropped four of them. Drinking just adds weight on to me, not just for the calories but because I lose my food inhibitions when I'm drinking and I would have scarfed an entire plate of Spam cupcakes. It's going to be tougher as Adam's semester starts and all the drinking events begin again. But until Jazz Fest, I'm drink free.