One last day.

I'm fixing to show my age here.

On the old sitcom Laverne & Shirley, the girls entered into a contest where they did a "supermarket sweep" type of race, where they had a limited time to race through a grocery store and load up their carts, winning whatever it was they could get across the finish line. Both raced through and loaded up their carts, and also stuffed things down their shirts in an attempt to get the most food across the finish line. But the load they were carrying was too heavy, and as they crawled toward the finish line all they managed to get across was a box of Mallomars. Which is all they were allowed to take home.

If you are scratching your head and wondering, "....Laverne & Shirley...?" then you probably need to watch some late-night cable.

I bring up this long-ago sitcom episode today because that's sort of what it feels like to have arrived at Fat Tuesday. Both of us have decided to give up some of life's little edible/drinkable pleasures for Lent -- not so much because of the spiritual aspect but because we both recognize the need to get a grip on our waistlines -- and to that end have been living it up. But here's the thing about living it up on a deadline: once you are standing on the precipice of that deadline, you're pretty much done with the living it up.

I'm serious, y'all. I'm kinda sick of all of it.

There is only so much boozing it up you can do before it gets to feeling like old hat, only so much chocolate you can consume before it ceases to be a treat, only so many cokes you can drink before you start to crave something without carbonation. You need to make a switch.

Which I guess is a good thing, seeing as how for the next 40 days I'm going to be grazing at the salad bar and realigning my chakras or some such nonsense. That first rum and coke after Easter is going to go down mighty good, I'm sure.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to waddle off towards lunchtime.




-- Mox