It’s not that I don’t love Emily. Or doughnuts. But when Em left an order form for Panolian employees to take advantage of a fund-raiser for the Batesville Skatepark Committee, I ignored it.

Now understand, I consider a fresh, hot doughnut a delicacy. Team it with a cold glass of milk and it’s a culinary treat. But a dozen? I just couldn’t justify it, unless I walked the ten miles to work and then walked home that night. And didn’t eat anything else.

Emily is not the only culprit around this office. Seems I bought into Pope School’s tubs of cookie dough. I just gave in and baked the whole five dozen at one time and brought them to the office. Peanut butter and chocolate. Both major food groups represented in one delectable snack.

Then Debbie Parker mothers us all with trays, baskets and tins full of homemade cakes, pies, cookies and candies.

Who in her right mind would complain about this excess of confection?

But I can’t button my pants.

Please, someone, have mercy. Sell freshly picked tomatoes or organic blueberries. Whole wheat bread or just-squeezed juice. Bags full of unsalted almonds or bunches of straight-from-the-garden asparagus.

The key to the success of this proposal is that this stuff has to be authentically fresh, certifiably healthy and undeniably tasty. Nothing suffering from bruises from a long journey, or gassed to produce a marketable hue. Only food that looks and tastes as if if came straight from Grandma’s garden or kitchen.

I’d buy this stuff if you brought it into my office and set it in front of me. Name your price.

Meanwhile, as I was dreaming up healthful alternatives to the fund-raiser offerings, Rupert had other plans.

He signed up for Emily’s doughnuts.