I love me some GREE-UTS.

It's been a mah-ve-lous and extravagant week here at 'fatcamp'. From the ectasy of buttery croissants  filled with chicken salad good enough to make you break out in the Hallelujah chorus, and kiss the Queen Mums'soft...

hand.

 

to THEE-US,  Butta-rey  Brow-own gree-uts. Golden  and delicious, these cheese grits are THE BEST  IN THE WORLD!! Don't take my word for it. Make them yourself...I double dog dare you. But I must warn you: Your life will never be the same. If you allow your virgin-cheesegrit lips to taste them, you will have periodic night sweats with cravings so strong you'll have to bite a strip of leather to keep yourself from licking them straight from the pan.

Only these grits. I didn't even care for the chickenfeed before.  Now I've got an obsession bordering on addiction, bordering on a severe case of hoarding with a touch of IBS.  Gee, Thanks Debbie.

I mean, God Bless You Debbie!  May you win the coveted "Cheesegrit Queen of the South"  title, along with the sparkly sash and fake diamond studded crown!

Here's the recipe: Guaranteed to make your butt a little bigger and your heart a little happier!

Makes 8 servings
4 cups of water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of quick  grits
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup butter
4 eggs beaten
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

Directions:
Combine salt/water -bring to a boil
gradually stir in grits, reduce to low heat, cover and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally
remove from heat-add 1 cup cheese, butter, stir until melted
add eggs and pepper
Fold into a 2qt. baking dish, and bake on 350 degrees for 1 hour or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

Dahlings Let's Have A Teaparty!

Dahlings, hello and good morning and all that other mushy stuff I'm prone to say on a day such as today.

You see, its TEAPARTY time here the Reasonably Chubby  residence and really there could be nothing more fun.

You think your husband buying you a diamond ring would be more fun? Well, see that proves you don't know anything.

Bungee jumping? Well. that just proves you're plain crazy with a little bit of dumb thrown in.

No, dearhearts, its TEAPARTIES that are fun, the absolute most fun in all the world and I wish terribly you could all be here to join in the merriment. But, alas you cannot. So, I shall drink a cup of tea with four sugar cubes in your honor instead...

I have 7 friends coming tonight and it's taken me 7 hours to get ready. Coincidence? I think not. Thank goodness I've decided to throw a party. I needed a reason to dust. And clean the potties.

I'm serving scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, chicken salad on croissant, and of course chocolate covered strawberries.

Here's my sweet daughter slaving away in the kitchen. This thrills my heart like none other-my children being my personal servants. I asked her to wear a uniform to make it official but she refused. It's hard to find obedient help these days.

It was such a feast for the eyes I took another picture.

And another...MOTHER, she growled with a meaness I hadn't heard before...She's going to make an excellent mother someday now that she's honed 'the look'.

Dahlings, I'll be thinking of you tonight. I promise. Especially after all my guests have gone home, and I'm looking at the disaster left behind  in my kitchen.

Tootles for now...Oh, and hugs and cheeky kisses!

Good News!

I have good news. I will not under any circumstance be changing the name of this blog. Unless you pay me like, at least a hundred bucks, or offer to take me out to dinner. Then, I might.  I'm cheap and flighty as you well know.

This decision came after careful thought  and napping and my youngest daughter saying, "what, are you stupid?
And that's what woke me up. Literally, her voice in my ear, saying, 'mom! mom! take me shopping... She reminded me that being "reasonably" chubby was perfectly acceptable. Desirable even, at my age. (Thoughtful of her to point out. Even though she did kind of say it in a mean way.  "Who wants some stringy-armed old woman to give you a hug? I like soft."  Her words, not mine. I quicky reminded her, "I'm only 44, not 104. You realize me and Cindy Crawford are the same age?  I can still bear children."  She just stared at me...)
 She reminded me that a "reasonably" chubby lap was always the favorite spot everyone wanted to be on a cold winter's night. (She does love to cuddle. She'd probably like it if I'd feed her a bottle but I refuse. I have my limits.)

Anyway, I know you're absolutely THRILLED  my blog will remain as is. That's why I like you. Small, insignificant things thrill you.  Me too. I can't even begin to share how happy I was with my newest nail polish/file kit picked up for 5 measly cents today at a garage sale.

P.S. I'm on a 'healthy eating for 40 days kick'.  So far, so good. 1 1/2 days down, 38 1/2 days to go... If I keep this up I'll probably be able to speak perfect chinese by breakfast.

My Name Is Slim...

I'm seriously considering changing the name of this blog. To  'superskinny'. Or maybe 'wispofawoman'.  I've also considered 'superfit',  'ieatcrunchylettuce', and 'scrawnychicken.'

Why? you ask? in your shrill voiced,  frightened way... *SIGH*   Leettle grasshoppah, come hee-uhre. I shall enlighten you. It is after all one of my favorite jobs, enlightening the world with my brilliant flashes of insight.

 I've come to the realization that by referring to myself as 'reasonablychubby' I'm doomed  to suffer with  perpetual plumpness. Yes, it's a cute name. Adorable if you ask me. ReasonablyChubby...  it rolls off the lips, and makes me want to eat a whole stick of butter.  BUT....  I'm reinforcing an image of rotund roundness in moo-wah's mind.   (I realize 'suffer' is a relative term. If one considers eating cheesecake 'suffering' then so be it. And sometimes I suffer and take midday naps. When I could potentially be outside sweating in 100 degree weather burning additional calories.)

So, you see? If I refer to myself as the self-disciplined, tiny boned woman that I really am, ( *see above picture*  )  I IMMEDIATELY get a craving for broccoli and sparkling water straight  from the tap.  Or, 'agua' as I like to call it.

Yes, that's another benefit.  Thinking of myself as the tall, world traveling, you can't see me when I step behind that stop sign, my gawd her cheeks are sunken that woman must never eat supermodel that I am, I immediately gain the ability to speak fluent Spanish. Taco, burrito, quesadilla, fajita, salsa, cheeps with lots of salt, queso, rice and beans...

Adios amigos!