It was close to 11 when I made my way downstairs to the kitchen for dessert. I was hoping there was ice cream in the freezer, but there wasn't-which came as no surprise--after all, I'm on a diet that doesn't recognize ice cream as one of the five major food groups.

Faced with such an obstacle, one has to think creatively. I went to the refrigerator and found the canned peaches I had opened the day before to eat with breakfast. Selecting a small bowl from the cupboard near the sink, I carefully placed five peach slices in the bowl. Then I went back to the refrigerator searching for the Hershey's syrup.

Ah, ha! Gotcha. I took the syrup out, removed the cap, and turned it upside down above the bowl with the peaches. With a practiced motion, I squeezed the syrup container to hasten the flow towards the bowl. As I squeezed, I could hear the air inside the container, but no syrup was forthcoming.

I squeezed again, still no syrup. Knowing that some things simply can't be rushed, I waited, with the syrup container poised over the target. Seconds ticked by, and I began to wonder if there was any syrup left. Fear began to gnaw at my heart. What if all the syrup was gone? What then?

It was too late to wake my neighbor, Marianne, and borrow some. I knew she'd understand my need for chocolate syrup. Others might find my obsession troubling, perhaps even crazy, but not Marianne. On the other hand, her husband Ralph was a whole different story.

Just when I was ready to give in --- to panic at the reality of my chocolate-less condition, a slow drip of chocolate sauce oozed from the plastic container. Down it went in a delicious drizzle across the peaches, again, and again, and again.

I was saved, my evening redeemed from the brink. There'd be no panic on Lee Court West tonight. Thanks to Hershey, the American way of life we all cherish would continue, with only a slight pause for this commercial message.