Last week, when Nathalie and I wanted to split a breakfast sandwich but I had to get my bacon on the side, I remembered it was Lent, and this reminded my of my favorite Lent story.

I have a pretty serious sugar habit. Two things you can find in my bed at all times are:

1. books

2. candy

But my sister Mollie makes me look like a chump. Her candy habit is long-term and intense, and while it seems to have eased up a bit since she’s become a bonified grown-up, it was at a jittery, candy-coated, sour-flavored peak when we were kids.

One year, Mollie decides to give up candy for Lent, and this is HUGE. But instead of avoiding temptation altogether, like most addicts would, Mollie uses those 40 days and 40 nights to stockpile and hoard as much candy as she can get her little hands on. Her top dresser drawer is absolutely stuffed with sweets by the time Lent wraps up, and she makes me stay up with her until midnight on Easter eve, because that is when Lent is officially over, and she can dig in.

And we did.

Then, by the time we got over our sugar highs, got to sleep, and woke up for the traditional Easter basket (stuffed with candy) hunt – well, neither of use was really interested. Probably the most languid basket hunt in of our childhoods.

Next year, Mollie decided to give up beer, because the moral of the story is that we were 21 and 23 years old when this happened.

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