Each second half of December, we visit Atlanta. It is one of my most favorite times of year even though it’s full of chaos and I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t always take too well to chaos. No one ever sleeps, at least three people have sickness ranging from gastro bugs to pneumonia, and we have to choose one movie for many, many different children.
But yes, one of my favorites.
Its a bit of an escape from the depressing Toronto sub-zero temperatures (I swear I can’t even remember the last time I felt my extremities). It’s concentrated, precious time I rarely get with my family. It’s unlimited baked goods. It’s time to pull focus away from stresses of the work and home-selling and where-will-Isabella-go-to-school-next-year variety.
And also, there’s gingerbread coke.**
You see, in 2001, I gave up Diet Coke. Cold turkey. I had to. And it was easier than I thought it would be, and there was very little temptation. Until I walk into the World Of Coca-Cola and I am surrounded by amazing historical paraphernalia and punch-in-the-heart secret Coke videos that involve pregnancy announcements and soldiers surprising their parents.
And then there’s that sound. That one. That one when you open up a can of Coke and it makes that sound.
Marketing geniuses, those Coke folks. They are basically Don Draper—could sell me anything. I swear, after the Carousel episode of Mad Men, I wanted to buy a 1960s-style slide projector.
And at the World Of Coke, I needed to have my first taste in four years. Gingerbread Coke, in the tasting room, while my son was sampling every single one of the 104+ different flavored including the Beverly which I have been told tastes a bit like bad dish soap.
I had a taste. And then another. And then another.
I had to pretend to be my twin and wait for the Coke pourers to change their shifts to get more, because they keep the gingerbread under lock and key. Unlike the Beverly.
And good heavens was it worth it. I fell off the wagon. I don’t even feel badly about it. And I’ll have you know that I have only had half a cup of Coke Zero since this incident, so no interventions are in order.
Until next second half of December, I’m thinking.
**This post is sponsored by nothing but Wagonfalling.