Our congregation started a 21 day fast on sunday. No meats, no chicken, no wheat, no soda, nothing canned or ...jesusholymarymotherofgod......

fried

fish, juice and all fresh is in the mix.

Oh did I mention we can't eat candy.

Or chocolate.

Monday evening I sat with my sorry looking corn on the cob and a shrunken up piece of snapper.

the bastard shrunk in the oven.

Alas, I was miserable.

And as I was washing dishes my eye got hooked on something in the clear plastic bin where I put Miss C's cookies after mickey's invasion:


A mini-Charleston Chew


Good Lord, I ignored it. I tried to ignore it. I swear I did.

I put it out of sight.

But it was already in my head.

I sinned.

I ate it.
I gobbled it up and begged God for forgiveness all night long.

Well last night Charleston's Chew's ghost came back to haunt me.

I dreamed I was eating those suckers with such delight....

Then just like the John Mayer dream, I woke up.

I got ya' Jesus. I did wrong.


This morning as I was making Miss C's lunch, I found a closed bowl of coccoa pebbles.

Temptation is a witch.

I opened up the bowl....
I took a whiff....
intoxicated my nose with the sweet chocolate scent...
and threw the cereal in the garbage.

I took an apple to work, chained myself to the desk and put a bucket under my chair.

There's a candy dish in the hallway.