I have an addiction. Besides reading books and writing, my newest addiction is the salsa from El Parasol in Santa Fe. It's got a red chile base and oh, my, Gosh, it is the spiciest salsa I have ever eaten. It may rival Sadie's. Except that it's about ten times better. I start craving it and Chris has about a week to satisfy my urge before he's taking me at seven in the evening--when Haven should be in bed--in order for me to main-line with a bowl (of salsa) and chips.
It's taken me a week, but I finally polished off a quart (I buy it in bulk now) and threw the container in the trash can. I keep honey nearby, some tissue to wipe my nose, and I try to distract myself with a magazine so that I can keep eating it without stopping. Because once you stop--it's over with. Yes, I have a problem. No, I don't plan on seeking help for it.
Anyway, I was in the bathroom doing my hair and heard a bunch of sniffling and sighing. I walked out to see that Haven had dug the quart container out of the trash and was drinking the salsa like soup. Her eyes were red and watering and she looked up at me surprised. I was so proud of her. I let her dip a chip in once and that was the last time she asked for me to share it. Apparently she was just waiting until my back was turned. That's my girl.