Saturday, April 17, 2010



What’s your favorite donut? Our family is big on Winchell’s donuts. (Not to make a plug for Winchell’s, but if they’ll pay me in donuts, I won’t turn them down.) Mine is an old-fashioned glazed. I’ll take a regular cake donut if an old-fashioned isn’t available. My kids like the jelly filled and chocolate covered twist donuts. Steve likes the cinnamon roll ones.

Eating donuts reminds me of my dad, who used to buy a dozen donuts and those small cartons of chocolate milk for us on our family trips to Utah when I was a kid. He still brings donuts home for my mom and any errant child or grandchild who happens to be over.

Donuts also remind me of my sister, Nikki. Her specialty is showing up at your house on your birthday morning with a dozen donuts and a smile (and her 5 kids.) The kids run around, a donut in each hand, high on sugar, while the adults sit and talk, and eat their favorite ones.

Every once in a while Steve brings home donuts after a long night’s work. This small and simple action warms my heart. It’s one of the many, many reasons I love him. It reminds me of my childhood, of my dad, and my sister; and while my waist and hips regret every bite, I don’t.

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