I am not prone to pregnancy cravings, at least not the eat a half gallon of ice cream or dousing my cottage cheese in pickle juice type of cravings. I have had aversions, mostly rare red meat, pasta, orange juice and Obsession type perfumes (Oh yes, some people still wear it, and let me tell you, those that do, really do…cough, cough, gag).

Tonight I have a craving, the ferocity of which is such that I am twitching, my body leaning in the direction it knows salvation to be. It’s northeast of here, maybe 15 blocks. The doors would be closed now and the object of my desire, my need even, would not be there.

It is nothing short of perfection. Weighing damn near a half pound it is an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie shaped like a failed volcano science project. The chunks of chocolate large and uneven, as they come from smashed, free trade organic chocolate bars. The oats are large and gnarly, the bit of cookie between is not too sweet, heavy with real butter, whole wheat flour and unimaginable goodness.

I do not often indulge in these mounds of otherworldly goodness as they leave my belly unable to accommodate anything else for 6 to 8 hours, a heaviness so profound I almost regret having eaten it to begin with. Almost.

I have tried to quell the hunger.
I dipped into a 100 calorie pack of Lorna Doones to no avail, a bit like a Q-tip stuck between the lips of a person trembling for a smoke.

I tried a toasted cinnamon raisin english muffin dripping with peanut butter, on par with making a bloody mary with pizza sauce instead of tomato juice.

I was going to try something else, but I didn’t have the heart for more disappointment. If you know me and live in town, when you get the call that I have delivered, bring me a Rockhill oatmeal chocolate chop cookie, m’kay?