Thin Mints

You may remember my post recently extolling the virtues of the Samoa Girl Scout cookie.  I have, of course, eaten the whole box of those and have moved on to my traditional favorite, Thin Mints. (Hey, the next time I do a blog post whining about how I can't lose weight, you have my permission to remind me that I have single-handedly polished off an embarassing amount of cookies.)
Tonight as I was polishing off the sleeve (it was only half full when I started), I was reminded of a story that has become a bit of lore in my family.  It goes like this:
When my mother was growing up her family had a dog. I think this dog's name was Pete.  They had like three dogs named Pete, so I have a pretty good shot of being right on this one.  Pete loved pancakes. A lot.  So one day, my grandmother, in all her infinite wisdom, decided she was going to see how many pancakes Pete could eat. (This was back in the time before ASPCA.) So she cooked and fed pancakes to Pete.  He ate a lot.  The number is no longer remembered, as it is not important.  The important part of this story was that Pete ate pancakes until he threw up. (No surprise there.) But the key to this story was that after he threw up he kept on eating the pancakes.

I feel like I could be that way with Thin Mints.