My Cheesy Valentine

Valentine’s Day approacheth. I thought I’d blog about something I love in honor of the holiday. No, no. I’ll not be gushing about my husband. He already knows I love him. I tell him every time I buy a pair of boots.

Instead I thought I’d express my devotion for a certain something I’ve been missing lately. You see, I’ve gone four whole weeks without eating CHEESE.

I’m pretty sure this is some kind of experiment in sociopathic behavior brought on by food deprivation. I keep expecting to see guys in white coats shadowing me and documenting my every outburst.

But the torture is almost over. Soon I will be reunited with the object of my affection. As you can see, I’ve made a few preparations for the big day.



I even wrote a poem.

Cheese, I love you.
Cheese, I do.
I bought a special pill.
So you won’t go right through.

Cheese, it seems an eternity,
That we have been apart.
My meals are sad without you.
Holes of Swiss gape in my heart. (Yeah, I wanted to rhyme something else with “apart,” but my mom reads this blog.)

Oh, Cheese, how I have wished
That you would come to stay.
My love, the wait is almost over.
I’ll devour you on Saturday.

Good enough for a Hallmark card, don’t you think?

One of the things I’m excited to make with all my glorious cheese, is a low-carb chocolate almond cheesecake. Let me know if you’d like the recipe and I’ll gladly share it in the comments or by email.

If anyone out there has a good cheese soup recipe, I’d love to have it. I’ve had trouble finding a good one. I think the next recipe I’ll be trying is Cheesy Chipotle Soup. I sure hope my trusty enzymes and probiotics are ready for that one.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not lactose intolerant. Apparently, I am “lactose challenged.” I wonder if I can get one of those magnetic ribbons to go on my car so I can raise awareness for the cause. Should I organize a walkathon? Maybe I should go to counseling to learn how to deal with my disability. Or, I could just take my little pill and stop blogging about my indigestion.

Holiday Misfires

So, like every other mother in America, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks running around like an elf on Ritalin. Now the kids are out of school and we’ve all got the sniffles, but things are finally starting to slow down. I thought I’d share some Christmas funnies in the off chance that you have a slow moment to read this week.

We'll start with children and gifts. I think Chunky has written a dozen letters to Santa asking for things like a billion dollars and to be turned into a dragon. He has us scratching our heads. Even Santa was a little baffled when Chunky sat on his lap and asked for, of all things, a lava lamp.

Monkey is a little more straight forward. In fact, subtlety escapes him entirely. A few weeks ago he came up from downstairs with a wrapped gift. He showed it to me and said, “Mommy, this is for you, but you can’t open it until Christmas, and I’m not going to tell you what it is.” Chunky wanted in on the secret, so Monkey went over to tell him. Monkey got right up next to his brother’s ear, started whispering then looked over his shoulder at me. “Mom, what are those things you wear in your ears called?”

Without blinking, I said, “Earrings.”

I did blink, however, when I saw these in a store recently.


I’m not going to tell you what store because I love the place and consider this to be an error in judgment best left to the ghost of Christmas past. I have to wonder what Mary would have to say about this pink sparkly representation of her. After all these years in blue and white, maybe she’d appreciate a little bling.

Speaking of Mary, I’d like to write a letter to the folks who made my nativity set.

Dear Manufacturers of Porcelain Nativity,

Why have you left Joseph out? Every year when I unpack my set, I wonder if one of the FOUR wise men is supposed to be Joseph, but since they’re all holding a gift—gold, frankincense, myrrh, and fruitcake?—I figure they have to be the magi.

Then there’s the shepherd carrying his sheep. Clearly, he’s not Joseph.

The camel and the donkey are a nice touch, but still I think you could’ve left one of them out in favor of Mary’s husband. I know, biologically speaking, Joseph wasn’t necessary, but having given birth myself, I can state with certainty that it’s nice to have a man to yell at. I think Mary was glad he was there, and I’d be glad if the arrangement on my hutch was a little more balanced.

If you ever make a Joseph, please let me know. Unless, of course, he looks like this.


Sincerely,
Evangeline Denmark

If you have a Christmas funny to share, please leave a comment. With all the stress and rush of the season, it helps to share a little merry.