Yummy… English toffee. Apple cinnamon cheese cake. Banana cream pie. Homemade breads with cream cheese frosting. Homemade cookies and fudge. Gooey bars. Danish butter cookies in a festive tin. Self control went out with the Thanksgiving turkey carcass. I’m so high on sugar, I can’t even think in complete sentences.
Last night I feasted at a progressive dinner. We drove to four houses for appetizers, salads, dinner entrees, and dessert coupled with fun company and great holiday entertainment. The only thing progressive about December is that I’m getting progressively stockier.
The night before Couponman and I had celebrated Hanukkah. When I’d first married him, I had no idea what a Reuben sandwich or noodle kugel were. Now I can eat them in a deli, eat them with a fat belly, eat them in black tie, eat them with a Rabbi. (Couponman used to laugh, when I’d say Jewish Rabbi. “That’s redundant,” he’d say. “How many other kinds of rabbis are there?”) After dinner, we progressively made our way to the deli’s bakery. Ahhh, new-found loves… raspberry and apricot rugula, poppy seed and walnut mundle bread, bear claws and cheese Danish, and two-for-one cupcakes for the grandkids. You know Couponman and those half price bargains.
At the rate I’m inhaling calories, I’ll have seasonably chubby rosy cheeks in no time. Christmas extravaganzas — office parties, tree trimming parties, luncheons out with favorite friends, Christmas Eve dinner, and a monstrous Christmas breakfast… Visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. Or was it a vision of dancing in sugar cookie crumbs?
I like to think I’m as progressive as the next person, but I’m actually looking forward to reactionary January. And thoughts and sentences not triggered by sugar.
Related posts:
- Decorating blues
- A melting pot
- Game night for seniors
- Night on the town
- I’m old enough to be thankful
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Well, heck! You always look good to me. Wish my self control looked like yours.