Bless Me Father....

Stories where heroes resolve tough situations by summoning wizards never really interested me. My fascination with Santa, the Easter Bunny and other childhood sprites was short lived. Magic --both the stage show and romantic varieties -- doesn't intrigue me.

I have always been the practical one. The one people look to for the cool head in a panic situation. The one wearing sensible shoes -- a term my mother used for footwear, yet laden with multitudes of midwestern character values.

As I age, the assumption is that I become even more firmly rooted in reality. "The facts, ma'm. Just the facts", as that Dragnet detective used to say. That's why the following confession ranks right up there with the time I had to tell Father Matthew that I let James Becker feel me up at the CYO dance -- embarrassing but necessary. So here goes:

Feeling hungry, I review the contents of my fridge hoping to concoct something edible. My fridge is the place where Tupperware goes to die. So I open the crisper. What a misnomer --there's nothing in that little drawer but a bag of brown liquid that I assume was once mushrooms. I scan the inside door. Several bottles of salad dressing stand at attention, none of which contain enough liquid to dress a salad in more than a g-string.

My brain -- making excuses for my inability to frequent the supermarket -- sends a message to my stomach that I am no longer hungry. I return to the mind-bending crossword puzzle.

Fast forward 30, maybe 40 minutes. I feel peckish. Apparently my stomach didn't actually buy the lie told by my brain mere minutes ago. Where do I head? Back to that very same refrigerator recently dismissed as a disaster area.

Was I expecting a loaves and fishes type miracle? Did those pathetic leftovers somehow morph into fine cuisine? Did someone stock the fridge while I was trying to figure out 12-down? Or worse, am I losing my memory? To cover this culinary dementia, I conjure up the Fridge Fairy. Picture Tinkerbell in fleece. Her super powers make veggies fresh again, raise leftovers from the dead and replenish the food supply.

I know she's not real. Credit me with some sanity. Just a light-hearted indulgance and a much needed release from wearing those blasted sensible shoes all my life.

Now before you pooh-pooh this idea, think of the last time you searched for your keys or glasses. How many times did you go back to the same spot thinking that perhaps you'd find it this time? Now if you had your own Fairy.....