The Board of Directors Here at Spo-Reflections informs me my last entry was too somber and I am to write something funny and cheery.  So here is something funny and cheery……

indexAs they say in ‘Game of Thrones’ “Palm Springs is coming.” On New Years Day Someone and I started austere diets in order to lose weight. We don’t want to make our ingress at Inndulge looking like bloated goats or beached whales.  We rid the house of high-caloric temptations on the common sense axiom if it isn’t around we can’t eat it. One item remains however to torment me and test my mettle.  Someone regularly buys bags of shredded cheese.  It is technically cheddar but I’ve rechristened it “crack cheese” He uses only a little here and there in his burritos while Ur Truly eats it right out of the bag in wee fistfuls. Oh the horror.  I asked him not to bring the orange menace home but not avail. He subscribes to the Nancy Reagan approach “Just say no” and I don’t have to eat it just because it’s there. His senses aren’t as keen as mine; he doesn’t hear the siren song emanating from the refrigerator late at night luring sailors to their doom with lactose-laden delights and spreading waistlines.  Even as I write this I sense the redolence of cheese circling around me, tightening its dairy-air around my derriere, pulling me out from my chair and dragging me towards the kitchen.

It’s 4 January; so far I haven’t succumbed but I fear it’s only a matter of time. Meanwhile Someone sprinkles the crack-cheese on his late night snacks while I confine myself in the bedroom with a pillow over my head as I moan and think on my BMI.

By the way Harper is also crackers for cheese. She is my enabler. She can be asleep in the deep at the other side of the house yet if I open the plastic bag of dairy doom she is by my side quick as a quarter-note. What is it about dogs and cheese?

There is no local chapter of TA* (worse luck!) so I am on my own. I have eight weeks to abjure all dairy and rennet-based items.  With luck and a one-day-at-a-time approach I may make it to Palm Springs with loose trousers.  Wish me luck.

By the way, I’ve filled the candy bowl with Atomic Fireball jawbreakers. I have no appetite for such sweeties but three guesses who likes them.



*Turophiles anonymous