Get thee behind me, cookies. (Oh wait...)

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m still in R & R (rest & recovery) mode after Semester kicked my sorry arse to the curb. By early November, I felt weighted down by concrete debris. By mid-November, I was praying cadaver dogs would find me under the rubble in time to gradegradegrade whilst preparing for Thanksgiving. Then, as soon as I was breathing again, it was time to do end-of-semester test writing, student org wrap-up, anxious student calming, and gradegradegrading, whilst simultaneously getting ready for eleven people at the Row for Christmas. This meant also finding time to put up the tree, decorate, and tackle my half-finished pile of homemade gifts: Wine to label, knit hats and malas to finish, cookies & granola to bake, and jam jars to wash and wrap in festive holiday fabric.

Whiny, I know. But it’s all just to explain that from November on, stress led me directly to near-total hermitting and my typical end-of-year CC diet (carbs and coffee). By December, I had a much fluffier silhouette and mild but alarming tachycardia.  Then came the cookies: Chocolate Espresso Spritz, molasses gingersnaps, my mom’s famous sugar cookies, and her delightful cornflake holly cookies (with red hots for berries, of course). Add to that Mom’s gallons of Chex Mix, a little Bailey’s and eggnog to soothe the nerves, and various kinds of nacho cheese doodles & chips, and one can see why, since late December, I’ve been glued to my Lazy-Girl in a carb-induced, heart-skipping near-coma.

  

To make matters worse, I had a long list of things I’d hoped to accomplish over break. But I’ve mostly been watching Finding Bigfoot or Ancient Aliens (that guy’s gotta know his hair makes it impossible to take him seriously, right?), mechanically moving Chex Mix from bag to mouth. Just a big ‘ole furry blanket-covered slug.

 
But hope springs eternal. Tonight, when Ray’s band cuts loose at our Little Town watering hole, I’ll be there with bells on—literally. I will not be making resolutions. I will not be turning over any new leaves. I will gratefully be letting go of stress & anxiety by celebrating, laughing and singing with dear friends. I will be seriously shaking my lumpy, ever-expanding money-maker. I will pry loose the evil adipose from its home on my thighs and offer it up to the dancing goddess of the New Year. 

Tomorrow? Maybe I'll eat a salad. And I’ll bet there’s an episode of Wicked Attraction I haven’t seen yet…