I finally decided to be brave and got out my scale and stood on it this morning.  My my, it’s amazing what a gallon of egg nog, dozens of cookies, and several boxes of chocolates will do to the figure.  And there’s no way to ignore it any further as I’m off to Mexico early next month and will be putting on the dreaded bathing suit.

One of the final blowouts occurred at mom’s at the end of December as she had a cocktail party for our neighbours and the new orchard owners, the Lepps.  They’re the owners of Lepp Farm Market in Abbotsford, and they came loaded with lovely charcuterie from their store.

We were all given a gift bag of assorted Mennonite sausage to take home, and I just adored the whisky smoked duck breasts, which were covered in a layer of duck fat.  All of it was wonderful.

Then the final blowout occurred on New Year’s Eve when I met my friend Petra at the Eldorado for their Sunday brunch.  It’s $33.95 so you can’t show up and eat like a bird.

Petra and I were quite thrilled with ourselves as we managed to eat two plates of food, then each had a plate filled with desserts.  It was the nicest setting as we had a little table by the window on their closed veranda and looked out over the deep snow onto the lake.

I’ve heard a couple of people tell me about this new fad of “intermittent fasting.”  Apparently one eats during a small window of time, and fasts for the remainder.  My chiropractor said he tries to consume all his food within about six hours or so.  He said he doesn’t eat breakfast, and then eats between noon and 6:00 and that’s it.

Unfortunately 6:00 PM is when my body and mind start plotting.  One goes hey, what’s in that cupboard?  The other tries to reason, loses, and soon I’m sitting on the couch watching CNN and eating a bowl of chips.  So I decided I can’t allow myself one single bad food in the house as I’m not trustworthy.

And speaking of bad, the cats continue on their evil paths.  I’ve lived here for 27 and a half years and never once have I seen a cat on the roof of my garage until today. I know it was George as he’s figured out the cat door, so comes and goes at will, but poor Iris can’t understand how it works.  Why he was up there I have no idea.

Poor Iris has to sit on the window ledge and look out at her uncle Mango and brother George cavorting in the snow.  I’ve had seven cats live here and learn the cat door, and yet this cat, who seems as smart as they were, can’t go through the pet door.  Hopefully one day she will.

To burn off steam from being trapped inside Iris likes to do things like getting up and into the heating vents.  Again this is a first for me as no other cat’s even dreamed of doing something like that.  I’ll be sitting here and hear scrabbling under my feet and it’s the cat deep within the bowels of the house doing God knows what.

But they needed a home and they got one, so I just have to roll with their punches.