It has arrived.
Hallelujah sings my soul.
It is January 21st.
Which means it is the final day of my 21 day Daniel fast.
21 days of only drinking water.
21 days of no meat or sugar or bread or milk or cheese or coffee for crying out loud.
21 days of oil and vinegar and alfalfa sprouts with more oil and vinegar.
It has been unenjoyable.
There has been wailing and gnashing of teeth.
I have longed to thrust my head in a big ole bowl of mashed potatoes with butter, yes butter, lots and lots of butter.
Tonight, oh the anticipation, I just might set my alarm for 12:01. I just might rise from my sleeping slumber and gorge on chocolate and peanut butter pretzels. I could if I want to.
But I won’t. Because I desire sleep more than I desire food. And it would probably give me a tummy ache.
Saturday, as soon as I suck down 2 cups of coffee with french vanilla creamer, I am baking this, and nobody can stop me. So don’t even try. It’s the Pioneer Woman’s Perfect Pound Cake.
Do you know how much I love pound cake? If you don’t, now you do.
If we are ever on a game show like the Newlywed Game (which would be way weird) and you’re asked my favorite food. Say pound cake.
It’s a toss up.
I would love to bake it Friday immediately after work, but we have plans. We’re dressing up, then we are having supper at a ritzy joint and afterwards attending a symphonic presentation. It’s like a date. Sorta.
I only hope my gastrointestinal system is up for it.