A Jeff by any other name......

Some people collect Nick Knacks. I collect Jeff's. I can't seem to recall a time in my life when there hasn't been a Jeff present. There was Jeff the childhood mate and I might also add a mean Kootie Kootie Ahhh player. Then came Jeff the teen infatuation. Who had the looks of a man and the charm of a snake. During my married years, I have cherished the friendship of Jeff the kindred spirit. I like Jeff's. I am still friends with all my Jeff's. It seems to me every landmark in my life has come with a Jeff. Now is no different.

I recently went through a major life change. After a mild stroke it was decided I needed to lose some weight. So I did. I am almost 40 lbs lighter and happily healthier. During my weight loss I met a new Jeff, a different kind of Jeff. This is a G Geoff.

One night while out to dinner with My husband and friends, I realized the conversation got a bit confusing while talking to both my kindred spirit Jeff and my new friend G Geoff. So I decided to call him the G man. Depending on my mood and my alcohol consumption, occasionally I call him Grand Master G. But the G man seems to do the trick most of the time.

I really like this Geoff. He's funny, intelligent, handsome and a great cook. The G man and I share a mutual passion for all things caloric. Food just seems to magically appear where ever we are. Most of the time I'm ok with this. I coming up on a year of weight loss and haven't gained any weight back, so bring on the food. However, the G man also goes by another name. A cursed name. A name my perceptive daughter gave him.

You see my friend the G man works for a major industrial baking company. Giving my daughter the idea to call him the Doughnut Man. The Doughnut Man is not my Geoff. The Doughnut Man is a scary creature. A doomed soul. Forced to work his trade by the dark of the night. Delivering tasty lard filled, sugar coated and Satan created treats to the mass population. My home is not immune to this evil.

There is a specific pastry that the Doughnut Man brings me. I can't say no. My mouth starts to water just from the sight. My arm involuntarily reaches as my hands grip the the cellophane wrapper and pull. Opening the package to release the demon inside. I  must take a bite. I am forced to chew and swallow the flaky buttery mound of  sweet iced goodness. If I could only stop at one. No I mustn't. Too late. Another package litters the floor as my eyes glaze over from the high my body receives. Ahhh the Svenhard Danish. How I love thee. But the Doughnut Man.........CURSE YOU DOUGHNUT MAN! CURSE YOU!

Svenhard's Danish

The Doughnut Man and The Devils Handmaiden!