It's Been A Phat Summer

It all started with a bundt cake and a dead pig.

It could have started with anything, really...a cookie or a cone, even a one-calorie breath mint.

After all, it takes so little to knock me off the diet wagon.

The first excuse was all the graduation parties.  From Memorial Day to Independence Day, we laughed and cried, hugged and socialized...all the while plotting to see how many nights we could get out of cooking dinner.

That was four score and seven shredded chicken sandwiches ago.

And, yes, we were in the thick of it ourselves, my daughter marching right along with the "Pomp and Circumstance."

We decided to honor her accomplishments with a pig roast.

I called Port-A-Cook to cater our party.  Sure, I could've done the cooking, but why risk ruining such a joyous occasion?

Besides, I had more important things to do, like perfect the arc in my Corn Hole toss.

The pig arrived on wheels, in a hot metal shed, its aroma enticing all creatures great and small within a 3-mile radius.

My dog Reuben, a wee-brained lab, almost burst out of his body, chasing the roaster up the driveway, thinking something extra special had arrived just for him.

When he saw the contents of the roaster, he was a bit perplexed.

Mr. Piggy looked very hot and very tired.

"This is what happens to bad doggies," I said.

Port-A-Cook provided everything form pork to potatoes, from buns to beans.

But the people demanded more.

"We want cake!  We want cake!"

Foregoing tradition, we decided to go with bundt cakes.

The word "bundt," I should mention, comes from the German word "bundkuchen," which means "big buttocks." (See Exhibit 1A).

I could have made the bundt cakes, but...well, frankly, I'm lazy.

Eatmor Bundt Company whipped up a few hundred individual cakes, with flavors like Cinn-a-Bundt, Chocolate Chip Bundt, and Turtle Bundt, to name a few.

What we didn't eat, we froze.

What we froze, we ate.

Segue into July and you have the "National Month" of blueberries, hot dogs, and ice cream.

Naturally, I've always been one for civic duty.

There are specific days in this delectable month that pay honor to other delights.

July 6 was National Fried Chicken Day.

July 9 was Sugar Cookie Day, the 12th- Pecan Pie Day.

Interestingly enough, the 14th is dubbed "National Nude Day."

I am not going there.

July also embraces Tapioca Pudding Day, Peach Ice Cream Day, Caviar Day, Raspberry Cake Day and Junk Food Day.

Who is behind this madness?

But, hold on, there is good news; July 27 is National Walking on Stilts Day!

You rarely see people walking around on stilts anymore.  That, my friends, is a darn shame.

When I was around 11 or 12, my father made me a pair of stilts, from nothing more than some scrap wood, a few nails, and a lot of love.

I swear to you, I walked around on those babies all day long for at least three months.

It was a narrow escape from a life in the circus.

Regardless, I think walking on stilts is something I might consider taking up again.  This could be my chance to break the sugar-coated spell I've been under for two months.

I am ready to lose the pounds and gain control of my life.

And, if I can manage some sort of self-discipline, I may allow myself to participate in National S'mores Day on Aug. 10.

Fat chance...

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