This year, I resolve to be sure to keep my resolutions.  So far it’s going pretty good.  I ate a BUNCH of Monkey Bread and topped it off with some Asian Fusion, delivered to our house and so devious in its appearance of healthy vegetables and rice that I easily ate two servings or more — and that was within the span of 4 hours, just last Sunday.

Whoever invented Monkey Bread, my hats off.  My belt, too, because waist diameter.  Or is it circumference?  Right, right: circumference is pi times diameter.

Monkey Bread pie?  With its cinnamon goodness and buttery biscuity greatness… can it be franchised to the pie division?  That’s like asking if you can add filling to a donut.  The answer is what it has always been and always will be: yes.  Resounding yes.  Regrets are for those who regret.  So it goes.

Yeah, but seriously.  It’s going pretty well.  The weight loss thing, I mean. I’ve found that if I drink copious amounts of water, my stomach gets confused and thinks it’s full, like when you hide a tennis ball under a blanket and the dog is like waaait… and then moves on to wild barking at the leaf blowing across the lawn.  My stomach is that dog.

My sister and her husband have a dog that will eat whatever it sees.  It doesn’t even need to be food per se.  My stomach is their dog.  Because, friend, no matter how we stir it, marshmallow cream is not food.  It’s a byproduct of marshmallow, which is also not food.  If your food has an R-factor, it’s not food.  It’s insulation.

I didn’t mean to eat the marshmallow cream.  It was mixed into some Amish Peanut Butter that I bought for the assumed organic and earthy goodness.  A close look at the ingredients shows that it includes insulation.  I may throw it away.  I may add it to my toast.  It’s so creamy.

Oh, so creamy.

We make our decisions when we’re strong so that we do the right thing when we’re weak.  After all this talk, I’m ready to drink some water. A gallon should do the trick.