The Orange Curse . . .

I dunno how it happened . . . one minute I was at Sam's exchanging a pair of bluejeans for Steve (my hubby has done a fantastic job of losing about 70# and 10" off his waist, hence the MUCH smaller jeans needed) . .  . and the next thing you know there I was . . . unloading a BARREL of cheese balls onto the kitchen counter.

I mean, I got the fruit, low fat (i.e. plastic) crackers, skim milk, boneless/skinless chicken breasts . . . and cheese balls . . .I think I had a little blackout or something . . . can't have possibly been that I picked them up ON PURPOSE. 

The orange curse has made it's way from the barrel, and onto my fingers . . . another blackout . . . I couldn't possibly have (CURSES!) eaten them on purpose . . . damn stuff just doesn't wash off easily either.

I guess the good news is that I did consciously resist the tray of baklava.

And well, since I'm too embarrassed to take a picture of the cheese ball barrel (and my orange cursey little fingers wouldn't be good for the camera), here's a picture of Carey instead . . . he's about the same color . . . and consistency i.e. trouble.