Milk shakedown

Sitting in a burger joint, I ordered a milkshake. I don't normally indulge in the dairy drug, but it had been one of those days following one of those weeks, smack in the middle of one of those months. I presume I don't have to explain what I mean by that, because everyone has their own version of what that means. It is a shared or common experience of our modern culture and society to know what those ominous words allude to emotionally even if not specifically. I just needed a great big, old fashioned, real ice cream milkshake to go with my giant, juicy hamburger and fries that afternoon. As I indulged this ravenous, and delectable dairy binge, knowing I would regret it for the next four days, I was struck with the wondering of WHY did I feel such a need and a drive to fulfill it so indulgently. And as I realized that this strange indulgence was a particularly ritualistic piece of middle modern America, my milkshake arrived for me to deconstruct. “What is it that makes me desire this? And what is it that makes this good?” The tumbler half full of extra shake is as much an important part of this ritual as the straw, the spoon and the flavor. It is a little personal ceremony to scrape it out and lick the spoon, like moms baking batter, or bread hot from the oven. Some things, especially around food, have a very important ritualistic component as an integral part of what makes the experience good, important and worthwhile... But I do not know WHY that is. The more questions I ask on this journey, the more I seem to get or encounter as part of my search for the answers.