Five Golden Pleasures

5 Things — Describe five guilty pleasures.

Everybody has a few tiny little secrets hidden in their pockets or up their sleeves.  Maybe a few bones kept from escaping skeletons shoved into a purse or two.  I am no different from an average person, and so when I rolled over in bed this morning and read the emailed prompt for #Reverb11 today my eyes flew open a little wider.  How could I even begin to filter through my guilty pleasures quickly enough in order to pick just five?

I immediately flopped back onto my pillows and shut my eyes.  That voice of self-doubt crept in and this time it was even more ridiculous than ever before, “Obviously everybody else’s guilty pleasures will be way more guiltier than mine!”  I groaned.  Nobody is going to care about how, even though I try to be healthy, I love chili-cheese fries from a burger place in my hometown.  How I could eat a whole order of these chili-cheese fries and not feel bad that my little arteries are gasping for breath in my body, with tiny little fists clenching for mercy and sending tiny white flags in surrender.  it doesn’t matter.  I continue to inhale the fries as if their screams won’t haunt me into the night.  Because they don’t.  My arteries are hardened by then and so they can only whisper.

And really.  At 35 years old the idea of me loving to dance is nothing to get excited about.  Who cares if I feel the beat of the music in my pulse and how I find the energy first by tapping my foot.  Soon I am drawn to dance and I can’t stop myself.  I dance with my baby in the kitchen, or I dance with my boy in a store.  I danced all the time when I was young and single. Dancing shakes off my nervous energy.  My best friend’s mom took me dancing at a cougar bar. (Long story.)  I dance in the seat of my car while driving.  The only time I don’t dance is when I have to go to the bathroom.  One has to draw the line somewhere.

When I really think about the pleasures I keep hidden from the world I think about the Harley in the garage.  I love sitting behind my husband and being on the bike with him, feeling the world fall carelessly around us.  I enjoy it most anytime, but when the leaves are changing is probably my favorite.  The canyon roads are like seams in a quilt and we’re just stitches.  Being on a Harley, or any bike for that matter, is what traveling in the world but not of the world feels like to me.

Anyone who knows me would know that I put my family first.  This is no secret nor is it guilt. I do love cooking and baking for them.  I show love for my family and friends through food.  It is truly a pleasure to feed them and provide for them.  What would be a true pleasure of mine though, and I refrain myself from it, is cookie dough.  I love cookie dough.  I love the taste and smell, the feel of it on my tongue.  Once the chocolate chips go in, I am a goner.  I have to constantly chant the word salmonella in my head to stop me from eating it.  I am paranoid of salmonella.  To the point of it being a genuine phobia.  Raw egg may as well be giant germ-infested rodents that turn into cockroaches or… something.  I am positive that if I eat cookie dough I will have salmonella living in my body making friends with my hardened arteries.  And so, I repress my urge to eat cookie dough and it is a devastating experience every time.  This will continue to be an unrequited guilty pressure.  And I can thank the Discovery Channel for it.

I have many other experiences I often indulge in that I could reveal here, but the last one I thought of made me laugh.  I am sure my friend Rachel Thompson (also known as RachelintheOC) will not agree, but I love her anyway.  I love Disneyland.  I love everything about Disneyland.  I love walking with my family down Main Street most of all and the detailed architecture, the perfectly scaled buildings, the importance of the names on the windows.  I love this history of the man behind the mouse and what his intentions were and how he worked hard to see his dreams come true.  As a family, we don’t get caught up in the merchandizing or the “stuff”.  We rarely buy anything there (other than mint juleps and apple fritters).  We enjoy the time as a family, even standing in lines which is when we play games.  For us, The Happiest Place on Earth isn’t necessarily because of the money we spend there or the rides or this’s or the that’s.  It’s because of the memories we have begun to accumulate there.  I also love not stepping in gum.

C. Streetlights
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Published by C. Streetlights

I wrote and illustrated my first bestseller, "The Lovely Unicorn" in the second grade and I've been terrified of success ever since. Published by ShadowTeamsNYC and represented by Lisa Hagen Books

2 thoughts on “Five Golden Pleasures”

  1. Anonymous says:

    wheeee! went sleuthing and this is the first of my pleasures – What a treat to come to this place. Your writing is delightful.
    xo jo

  2. I love love love that you called these golden pleasures, so much better than guilty ones 🙂

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