Here we go again!

Situation: 39 days until Thanksgiving. Impending threat of post-marathon, personal winter insulation growth.

Solution: It's time for a little "Lenting"!

That's right. I've taken the great pre-Easter tradition and verbed it. (Or is that adverbed it? Please don't let my mother, the famous Gaston English teacher, and superior editor of all papers, read this.)

I decided to be a little crazy earlier this year and Lented (verbed it again!), seriously, for the first time ever. What did I give up? Only my biggest vise, only the best thing ever: sugar. Refined sugar. Day 3 almost killed me. But I made it. All 40 days - which is a miracle in itself. Does that means I am halfway to becoming a saint? I better start working on the paperwork. Now if I could only bring someone back to life by starying at them cross-eyed. . .I have got to work on that. But I almost killed myself on Easter. FYI - it's a really bad idea to have a mocha, donut AND Cadbury Egg for breakfast - really bad. Just take it from me. Oh sure, you're singing and talking and walking around (all at warp speed) and the world is great. It's the happiest day of the year because there's more to celebrate on Easter than any other day. Sugar just heightens the experience. Your singing voice is louder. Your hugs are stronger. Your greetings are friendlier. The jokes you tell are funnier. Everyone around you is better off because of the sugar you have ingested. The sugar that should be spread out over several weeks is now headed straight to your brain.

And that's when you crash.

First comes the headache. So you pop some Advil. You attribute it to maybe getting up really early. Then comes the stomach ache. Yeah, I probably did eat too much of Aunt J's potatoes. Then comes the nausea. And once you're here, there ain't no going back. You find yourself in the fetal position hoping that you'll pass out or black out. But you can't do either because you're pretty sure you're going to lose your lunch at any second. And you think, I might as well undo my top button on my pants because I am going to be laying on this couch for quite some time. The final step is to swear off sugar forever. And then break that promise sometime between 7 & 9am the next morning when you have a leftover, homemade Bearclaw for breakfast; proving once again that I learn nothing from my mistakes.

So you are all on notice world. No refined sugar for 39 days.

To quote the critically acclaimed artist, Gnarls Barkley:

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind. . .

Maybe I'm crazy