Those "calling" foods

This past weekend, I faced three instances in which foods were calling my name -- very loudly in fact -- and I ignored all three calls.

The first challenge came Saturday night, when we were eating at an adorable French restaurant, Cafe Lola, in Fairfield. My favorite French comfort foods were all there -- including escargot. The menu read: "Sizzling snails in garlic butter with parsley and a splash of Pernod." Oh how tempting it sounded, and I had made up my mind that it was worth the extra calories. But at the last moment, when the waitress took my order, instead of saying escargot I said salad.

My immediate thought: "Where did that come from?" I honestly had -- and still have -- no idea. But something inside me must have been nudging my brain to realize that right now, snails dripping in butter might derail even my best intentions.

Round two came Sunday morning, when I got my after-walk Starbucks. There was a new offering in the pastry case: cheese danish. I haven't had a cheese danish in decades, because honestly, I really cannot eat just one. And Starbucks' version had a big glob of cheese right in the middle of the danish. Oh how that danish was screaming my name. But I took a good look at it, and mentally told it that although I know how amazing it would taste, it belonged in the danish case not in -- or eventually on -- my stomach. I had oatmeal instead.

And then there was the Sunday afternoon movie, and although all I could smell as I entered the theater was popcorn, I ignored the snack bar, heading right for my seat.

Three big challenges, all met because I faced them head-on. I would say that's progress.