The days leading up to the New Year can be considered the days of good intentions, but it seems I squeeze in as many poor eating choices as I can manage before the calendar turns over.
At some point during the pre-holiday preparation I seem to give up. “Why fight it,” I say, as I devour my weight in miniature cream puffs (profiteroles I think they are more accurately to be referred).
I may be exaggerating but the intent is accurate.
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