Curse You, Cheese Ball of DOOM!

I've been feeling deprived this Christmas season. I thought I was ready for it, but I wasn't. Saying "no" to all of this food has been gradually wearing down my resistance. And tonight, we had an avalanche.

We went out to my sister's place (Dr. Munchkin, for you regular readers). We had strategically planned this visit to happen *after* dinner, which I knew was the best idea for me to have some hope. Luckily for me, Dr. Munchkin understands, so no explanation was necessary.

The weather was just turning nasty as we arrived there, with ice pellets and sleet coating everything. Shortly after we arrived, my dad, my stepmom, and Dr. Munchkin's mom (our family is a little complicated) decided they'd better hit the road as things were getting quite dicey. Between standing up from the couch and heading out the door, my dad said, no less than three times, "Share the cheese ball and crackers with them." Munchkin kept trying to get the departing party to take it with them, to no avail. My brain was already rocketing down the Cheese Ball Express.

So, there I was, ignoring Hubby's gentle suggestions that we should soon go, shovelling cheese and crackers into my gullet as fast as I possibly could. I even sent him out to start the car, so I could eat more cheese and crackers undisturbed.

You tried, Munchkin, and I applaud and appreciate your efforts. But sometimes the Eating Machine is just too strong for a mere mortal like me.