The holiday season is upon us, and I know that because Wal-Mart is filled with twenty-dollar Batman masks that cost the Taiwanese five cents to make. Additionally since Wal-Mart owns the world I rely on them to tell me when I should start thinking about the holidays, which means I’ve been pondering Halloween since mid-July.
As we all know holidays are a time for excess, followed by guilt, followed by excess to cover up the guilt, followed by more guilt and constipation. My wedding anniversary was yesterday and since that’s a holiday it seemed like a good day to booze it up with my husband. Unfortunately I just got back from vacation a week ago and my internal good girl voice (self-righteous bitch) kept demanding that I eat right and stay sober, or risk bloating up like a dead toad – and I’m not kidding you, my dad used to use that line constantly when I was a teen.
Me: Dad I don’t feel good.
Dad: Well you look like a bloated up dead toad.
Me: Great thanks dad. Now I’m going to go stand in front a mirror grabbing my love handles and crying to Radiohead – the first album.
Anyway the day started off great. I ate eight crackers with cheese and an entire grapefruit, drank one cup of coffee, no cream, and two glasses of water. Steven and I went for a long hike and the fall colors were brilliant. Go me! Self-control at its finest!
It surprised me then that by 1pm I was knee deep in a margarita with an empty bowl of salsa in front of me and a table littered with tortilla chips. It further surprised me when I actually heard the words “bowl of queso” come out of my mouth and it even further surprised me when “one avocado tostado, no beans” turned into “cheese enchilada plate, extra sour cream”.
I tried to quell the voice inside of my head with two additional beers but oddly it only seemed to draw more attention to how far I’d strayed from the path of righteousness.
Now readers if you want this story to end with something about finding religion and the baby Jesus then I’m going to need you to close this blog immediately, turn off your computers, and pray. However if you want this story to end with me drunkenly taking off my bikini top in a hot tub filled with fourteen year olds well, that didn’t happen either. However I can neither confirm nor deny that my husband and I finished out the day lying in our air conditioned hotel room, beers propped on our swollen, queso-filled bellies, watching Talk Soup and cheering to at least two more years of marriage.
Bananas Foster S’more
– Shooter of Dark Rum
– Pinch of cinnamon
– Tiny pinch of nutmeg
– Cinnamon Graham Cracker
Cut a few slices of banana. Take a small bowl, place the marshmallow and the banana slices in it, and pour a small amount of dark rum over both, just enough to moisten the banana and the marshmallow. Add a pinch of cinnamon and a tiny pinch of nutmeg to the bowl and gently stir. Wait about one minute, to allow the flavors to soak in. Then skewer both the banana and the marshmallow. Toast (or microwave) both. Place between two halves of a cinnamon graham cracker and enjoy!