When I woke up this morning and started thinking about what to write (oh my goodness, I think I just started a blues song...), seriously... pancakes did not even enter my mind.
But last night was Pancake Tuesday, so it's not too far fetched, after all. What is Pancake Tuesday, you ask? Well, if you marry an Irish person, Pancake Tuesday is what you do instead of whooping it up at Mardi Gras. When you marry an Irish person, you spend Shrove Tuesday eating eggy pancakes with lots of sugar on them. Thanks to an invite from a Tralee, Co. Kerry native who lives in town, we enjoyed them last night the traditional way, with lemon and sugar sprinkled on, then rolled up. They are not fluffy like American pancakes; they much thinner and are far more eggy. Good food. So good that you eat twenty.
In the Christian tradition, Shrove Tuesday traditionally is a feast day, the last day you get to eat fatty things like sugar, fat and eggs, before the ritual fasting of Lent.
I think this means that the diet starts today. A great second chance for the unlucky ten thousand whose New Year's resolutions didn't quite work out.
I've always been fairly suspicious of people who give up chocolate, beer, cakes, sweets, etc. for Lent, thinking that they were being a bit, well, hypocritical... using the sacred season an excuse for weight loss, not a soul-purifying Lenten sacrifice.
So, I'm taking the high road on this one. I'm going to give up sweets not for myself but for that pure and sinless higher being, the Easter Bunny. I hear that he's partial to bikinis.