May 19: The Grocers', Freak, New Cartoon

The Grocers'!  oh the Grocers'!  nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses!  It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely  white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious.  Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress:  but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.

I know what you're thinking:  why in the hell did Saint Marty start with this catalogue of Christmas groceries?  It comes in the stave with the Ghost of Christmas Present, a stave that is full of these kinds of descriptions.  Dickens seems obsessed with the culinary details of Christmas.  You might call him a freak for these foods.

I just finished listening to an audio version of Steve Almond's book Candy Freak, which, to this day, still remains one of my favorite books of all time.  In the book, Almond displays his candy obsessions and fetishes in all their weird glory.  For a fellow candy freak like myself, I find in Almond a kindred spirit.  I find the same kind of kindred spirit in Dickens.  In Dickens' paragraphs about sucking pigs and joints of meat and candied fruits and French plums, I find a fellow freak.

I think most writers are freaks about something or other.  Writers are just walking balls of obsessive energy.  It comes with the territory.  If you can commit yourself to writing about candy bars or mental illness or any other subject for a year or so of your life, you are, by definition, a freak.  That's why I love being around writers.  Their preoccupations are consuming, fascinating, and powerful.  Writers can make any subject vivid and living.  Almond does this with chocolate.  Dickens does this with Victorian Christmas menus.

Saint Marty does this with Charles Dickens and Steve Almond and Cheetos.

Confessions of Saint Marty

May 9: Ice Cream, Whipped Cream, and Strawberries

At work this afternoon, all employees of the Health System for which I work were treated to ice cream sundaes in celebration of National Hospital Week.  My particular sundae consisted of vanilla ice cream (the only flavor of ice cream that counts), crushed Butterfingers, crushed Oreo, crushed Snickers, a dollop of strawberries, a squidge of whipped cream, and several maraschino cherries.  It was supposed to make us feel appreciated by the hospital.  I must say that I didn't feel appreciated, until I went back for my second sundae.  Then I felt appreciated.

I generally try to stay away from food as a reward for anything.  I don't believe in giving my kids food if they behave.  (My daughter always want an app for her iPod touch for a reward, although my son can be bribed with M&Ms when I'm in a hurry.  Not that I do that very often.)  If I'm going to reward myself for working hard, I will give myself some extra time to write.  Or I'll set aside some extra reading time.  If I'm craving something more commercial, I will go to my Amazon.com shopping cart, in which I have about 112 items saved for later.  I will choose a reward from my cart and purchase it, including a free gift card in the package that says something like, "Dear Saint Marty, you are awesome!"

I have been accused of trying to sabotage people's resolve to eat healthier foods.  For instance, I applied a little pressure on a friend/coworker this afternoon.  She had declared that she was going on the wagon.  No candy.  No sugar.  She ate some kind of squash and tomato soup that smelled like radiator fluid for lunch.  I cajoled and teased and pressed her into going to get an ice cream sundae for herself.  She did.  Then she ate it.  Perhaps I do have a slightly evil streak.

I am currently listening to the audio book of Steve Almond's Candy Freak in my car.  I have begun to realize that I am, as Almond would say, a freak of the highest degree.  I don't understand people who don't eat candy or ice cream or cake.  It's beyond the pale of normalcy for me.  Maybe that's why I want people to eat free ice cream sundaes.  It's just normal.  Really.

Saint Marty, you are awesome!  Have some more ice cream.

Resistance is futile!

February 14: Saint Valentine

Yes, there really was a Saint Valentine.  He was a Roman priest who lived in the third century.  A good portion of his ministry was caring for Christians who were being hunted down, tortured, and killed by Emperor Claudius II.  Eventually, Valentine was captured and beheaded around the year 270.  He is the patron saint of greetings, which seems like a pretty logical explanation for the origins of the customs of Valentine's Day (and the use of Hallmark).  In actuality, giving cards to your love on this day had pagan origins.  In ancient times, boys drew "the names of girls in honor of their goddess, Februarto Juno, on February 15."  Christians, to combat this pagan custom, substituted the names of saints for the goddess, sort of the way Christians co-opted the Winter Solstice from the Druids and Celts by transforming it into Christmas.  We Christians recognize a good thing when we see it.  And if it gives me an excuse to receive free chocolate, all the better.

Really, when you think about it, having a day dedicated to love, whether it's pagan or Christian, isn't such a bad idea.  There's really not many holidays that, by their very definitions, are designed to make us appreciate people.  My daughter, of course, will be coming home from school this afternoon with a bag full of the latest in sugar crack for kids.  She herself is contributing Airheads and Fun Dips.  Airheads are just bastardized versions of Laffy Taffy.  Fun Dips consist of a stick of candy that the consumer licks, scoops into a packet of crystallized powder, then licks or sucks again.  It's a pretty disgusting confection, ranking right up there in my books with Pixie Stix, which are just paper straws filled with flavored sugar.  Kids love this shit.

For the two or three long-time readers of my blog, you already know my affinity for chocolate.  Along with books, American Idol, and Jesus, chocolate is one of the few things I take very seriously.  At the top of my list of favorite reads from the last few years is Candyfreak by Steve Almond.  It's a non-fiction account of Almond visiting candy factories and writing about the manufacture of various popular sugary treats.  He talks about the origin of his candy obsession, categorizes and ranks the favorite candies of his childhood, and discusses issues like fame and mortality.  And he gets tons of free chocolate to boot.  The guy is a genius.

Aside from exchanging cards, my wife and I aren't really do anything special for Valentine's Day today.  We went to Red Lobster last Friday, but that really had nothing to do with our love for each other and everything to do with lobster pizza and artichoke dip.  I bought my wife some heart-shaped Reese's Peanut Butter cups, which she began eating on Friday night.  Tonight, I'm chauffeuring our daughter from religion class to dance class to home.  My wife is going out with friends from her women's group at church.  We probably won't see each other until after 9:30 p.m.  Not much room for romance.  I don't think I'll even have the energy for a dirty thought by the time I see my wife this evening.

So, I'm all for a pagan/Christian holiday focused on love and chocolate.  I really believe in the importance of telling people you love them, in letting them know you respect and appreciate their contributions to your life.  I wish each and every one of you a Happy Valentine's Day.

And for the record, I love chocolate creams (anything but maple, coffee, and coconut).  Just in case you were wondering what to get me.