The Last Supper

I cooked up a little kale and made some buttermilk biscuits with gorgonzola tonight to mark my last supper of the inky thinky fast. That's an Izze pear juice, not a beer. I love that stuff. And it was Amanda who brought Izze into my house and it was Amanda who asked me to come here and write. I gotcha covered tomorrow night!

To be honest, tonight feels uneventful. Tomorrow the rules are lifted. It's almost like when you were a kid and you were being tickled so hard and really, you could get up and run away, but for some reason you felt trapped and secretly enjoyed the joy and torture of the tickle. So the tickle of the inky thinky fast has been both joy and torture. Joy because you have joined me for 31 days. Torture because sometimes I really needed a shot of tequila or to scream "fuck off" at the top of my lungs in my car.

Overall the fasting has been a blessing. Some people don't even get the chance to make rules. In fact, the rules are made for them. That's why, despite your cajoling to put my $1200 of the "Curse for a Cause" fund to a booze fest, I've decided to put the money where the children are. They, particularly the girls, have so many obstacles and rules stacked against them I sometimes wonder how generations continue. So enough of the soapbox.

I guess I just want to say, thank you all who supported me, laughed at me and enticed me to take a sip or a bite or teased me with litanies of swear words.

I'd like to come back here after tomorrow, and I hope some of you will join me for "Shopping Free February-if you ain't got it you don't need it!" More to come tomorrow.

Until then, be grateful for your freedoms.

p.s. It is 12:30 in NYC and that's my favorite place in the world so maybe I could drink now?!