A Donut By Any Other Name

At a volunteer lunch on Wednesday we were asked to name as many types of donuts as possible in one minute.  I started naming and the clock began ticking.

But the more donuts I named, the hungrier I became.  I felt like one of Pavlov's dogs drooling over the sound of a bell.  Someone mentions "donuts" and I begin thinking about eating them.

I also imagine that Plato had a notion of the perfect donut . . . a donut set on the ideal plain.  A donut fit for heaven that formed the ideal for donuts everywhere.

I'm still searching for that donut . . . and some day I hope to find it.  But the search itself is the wonder.  It's not the donut destination I'm after, but the journey to it.