My family is on this righteous health food kick.  As in no more chip drawer, no more candy bars and shelves and shelves of containers of lettuce, cottage cheese, and apples.

Here's the deal.  I like bread.  And butter and sugar and I really like cheese.  Right now every time I open the refrigerator door I want to throw a tantrum.  Not even the cereal cabinet soothes me.  I might as well eat cardboard.  Special K can kiss my you-know-what.

And whoever came up with those sorry little excuses for bread that look like smashed buns is cruel.  I like bread that sticks to my mouth and melts on my tongue.  I like bread with little surprises in it like sunflower seeds and cinnamon swirls.  Not flax.  Flax bread?  Mother, really.  What an awful thing to do to bread.  Stop paying those neighbor kids to dump BUCKETFULS into the loaf they drop off.  I'm going to throw a snowball at them the next time they show up with that ten pound lump of bird food.

It is January and I know the rest of the world is on one massive diet, but I am not joining in that love fest.  No way.  Half price dessert Monday nights at Wheatfields?  On my calendar.  Runza Temperature Tuesdays?  Yes please.  Waffle cone Wednesdays?  Hallelujah. Happy Hour Sushi Thursdays?  I told you Jesus loves me. 

It is winter.  It is cold and miserable out.  The rest of you can live on your lettuce wraps and carrot sticks.  I'll be over here hibernating with my fountain pop and chocolate cake.  And I'll have such a smile on my face.