Cake Balls

Just when I was resolved to address my new chubbiness, here's what happened.

At new faculty orientation several weeks ago, we had lunch one day at the Inn at Depauw, an old inn right next to campus that has been converted into a very pleasant hotel, restaurant, bar ("The Fluttering Duck"), and conference center. The lunch was a buffet, and for dessert there was something called "cake balls," these round objects with frosting on the outside and cake on the inside. I liked the cake balls a LOT.

Last week I had lunch there with a colleague. There were no cake balls to be had. I asked the waitress about them, and she asked for my email address so I could be alerted when cake balls were next available.

Sure enough, a personal email came yesterday, in my DePauw email inbox. The subject heading said only "Cake Balls." The message was a promise that there would be cake balls today. It was signed by the executive chef at the inn.

So how could I not go over there for lunch today and have cake balls? What dieter could be so churlish as to refrain from them after such a kindly notification? They even had a big handwritten sign next to them that said CAKE BALLS, when nothing else was labeled.

I now have one more reason to love my new life in Greencastle. Its name is: CAKE BALLS.