Cheeseca-aaaahh!

Cheesecake. It's stalking me. No seriously.

I have always loved cheesecake. But I only see it (let alone eat it) maybe once a year. Possibly twice if I'm extremely lucky. And yet, somehow, during the three-month period that I CANNOT EAT IT, it has suddenly appeared everywhere.

You may recall that I recently froze a piece of cheesecake for the fall. Not long after the execution of that more than brilliant idea I was invited to a party at the Cheesecake Factory. The first part of the evening was lovely (so were the waiters), but the second was grueling (so where the heels I was wearing.)

It may (or may not) be slightly obvious that the Cheesecake Factory only serves one thing for dessert . . . CHEESECAKE (or as we shall refer to it from now on: cheeseca-aaaahh!! in a very whiny and sort of unpleasant tone, because that's how I feel when I see cheesecake.) While everyone else ordered their deluxe cheeseca-aaaahhs, I was sitting in the corner (the corner farthest away from the outdoor heater, with the puddle of water run-off right below my feet) sipping my cappaccino and trying not to look grumpy.

Lucky for me, no one wanted the whip cream that came with their cheeseca-aaaahhs (which, you may recall, is my only exception), so my cappiccino quickly became a whipcreamo (which spellcheck is saying is a real word...).

About a week ago (new story here) I attended a homeschooling leadership conference with my mom up in Pasadena. I won't tell you how we got lost for two hours in the middle of the night and ended up in San Bernadino, or how we asked random, sketchy looking strangers for directions. I won't even tell you that our hotel had awesome vallets who couldn't speak english ... at all. But I will mention that, for dessert during their big brunch, they served cheeseca-aaaahh.

And what did I do with this cheeseca-aaaahh?

I'll tell you.

I mashed it up on the plate and swirled it into the raspberry sauce until it was a henious shade of chartruesse (which I spelled correctly on the first try!) and then heaped it back onto the gramcracker crust. When the waiter came to clear my plate he said slowly and with as much tact as possible, "...Are you done, Ma'am?" To which I replied slowly and with as much dignity as possible, "Yes."

Here's the truth guys,
I'm failing miserably. I ate a piece of Angel Food Cake. I had a pina colada (x3). And I've been snacking and seconding this whole month. It's discouraging.

But I'm still going. I've said "no" more than I've said "weeell...okay, if you insist."

Tomorrow I'm leaving for the Czech Republic where I'll be continuing my "no sugar" thing. When I come back, we just have TWO MORE WEEKS and then it's back to life as normal. And I'll finally get to eat that piece of frozen cheeseca-aaaahh.