I know God is busy, what with making sure certain people make their foul shots and enabling others to make the next cut of American Idol, but if she is looking for another pursuit, I have an idea.

After stopping in at a nearby fish market, I told myself I didn’t need to stop at the Westhampton Pastry Shop for the divine almond meringue cookies that I eat only once or twice a year. I wasn’t listening  to me, however. I was in the left lane to go home, but there was a parking space right there, and no traffic to hinder my approach. I had no choice.  I bought  $5 worth of cookies cause I had no cash and that’s the minimum they’ll let a pathetic almond meringue cookie addict charge.  It’s a habit grounded in good intentions.  A woman I used to know who introduced these cookies to me said she always bought some for herself after she got her mammogram. This is the month I should get a mammogram, too, so I’m halfway there.

But back to God. This bakery is old-school, with pies, Boston Creme Pie, even, chocolate eclairs as big as submarines, and chocolate covered doughnuts that look like what doughnuts would look like if  God made them. I am serious. They are perfect–not uniform, oh no, no assembly line here–a bit crumpled, glazed sugar-laden, and dark chocolate dripping off them.  I just stood there staring, perhaps even drooling. Really beautiful doughnuts, full of personality, I swear. 

I feel guilty for even mentioning doughnuts right after Michelle Obama started her campaign against childhood obesity, but to tie it all together here, if only God would get his priorities straight and leave the music awards and Oscars to the lesser gods and figure out a way to make those doughnuts healthy, I would praise the lord and pass the chocolate doughnuts in good conscience. As it is, I didn’t buy a single one. I’m almost a saint, I know.