The party's over people.

Not any more I'm afraid. 

It's time to get serious.

Because it's been a long silly season, with no seriousness at all.

It started a long time ago.  Three months in fact.  Halloween, I believe.  This was the evening where, after we returned from trick or treating, my lovely neighbour, and my awesome friend and I decided it was time to open the champs and pull out the nibbles.  Not wanting to be exclusive, we did so on a trestle table outside our houses.  This created a street party atmosphere and we were joined by quite a few passers by for a quick beverage or three.

Skeletons and ghosts hung eerily from our scaffolding, and a good night was had by all.

Since that fateful day, we have cracked a bottle of champs, unwrapped a cheese and opened a packet of crackers many, many times.  During November, there was Melbourne Cup, my birthday, end of year drinks for various sports and activities, end of school year drinks at peoples houses, family get togethers, BBQs, spontaneous meals with friends etc etc.

During December things got a little more hardcore with a continuation of the end of year activities plus a few parties and work functions.  By the time we left for Christmas in QLD we'd given up our alcohol free days rule (3-4 days per week) were having a drinkie pretty much every day.  We clinked glasses with friends and family, we tried lemon and lime in Coronas, we experimented with long and short glasses for G&Ts.

A lunchtime beer was rare but not unheard of.  Just the one.

New Years was a hoot.  Except I wanted to go to bed at 10:30 and the kids insisted on staying up til midnight.  What's going on there?  The tables are turning I feel.

Lots of kids busy having fun. 

Fun!  Oh yes.  The kids spent hours playing, swimming and not being told to go to bed.  The days were long, the holiday feeling was strong.  

Cue 10 days at Boomerang Beach with several families and up the ante to a full antipasto spread every evening.  Followed by a BBQ.

The kids began to rebel against sausages.  They refused kebabs.  They wanted casseroles, they wanted pasta.  Issy occasionally had to put herself to bed.

Late January continued in the same vein of fun, especially because the kids were still on holidays.  With no need to rush anywhere in the mornings, there was no need to end the evening early.  So we didn't.  I ate cheese and crackers for dinner approximately every second night.  Dips, nuts, olives, pate, lavash crackers, bread sticks, turkish bread, pita chips, water crackers, your jatz, your ritz, your clix.

You simply cannot subsist on a diet like this and not start to pack it on.  And pack it on I have.  I kept on running through the entire period, and tried to be disciplined about it, but the exercise was nothing against the wave of food I was putting into myself.

I can only wonder at how enormous I would be if I hadn't kept running.  I did eat salad with my BBQ, surely that counts for something.

Training for my second Coastrek has continued over the holidays and done a bit for my fitness if nothing for my waistline. Although I am ashamed to report that I have twice walked while cruelly hungover.  Once I did 30kms feeling much the worse for wear.  But what else can you do?  Lying in bed just makes you feel sorry for yourself, and getting up and walking at least felt like I was doing something remotely good and healthy for myself and my poor body.

Plus, Coastrek walks are the best.  You chat, you discuss, you dissect, you analyse.  Very occasionally you husband bash.  But not very often.   Because they are quite nice husbands.

During January, Mike and I also lived it up on a weekend away in Melbourne.  Here he is at the airport .  Yes, there is champs and beer.  Surprise!

Melbourne was so awesome I think it deserves a post of its own.   

Our last hurrah was on Australia Day, with two BBQs within 200m of our house (opposite directions).  Both where the champagne flowed and the guests were simpatico.  Goodness it was fun.  But we woke up the day after and started listening to our livers.

And so, after three months of eating and drinking almost exactly what I wanted, whenever I wanted, I've realised it has to stop.  So, Febfast.  And cheesefast.

For the entire month of February, I am not drinking alcohol.  And I am not eating soft cheese and trying to seriously limit all those other yummy nibbly foods which formed my main diet for two months.  During which time I learned lessons such as, a light cruskit is only as good as its toppings.  And when speaking of toppings, pink dip and brie do not really cut it in terms of health food.

Confession: last night at Bjorn Again at the Zoo I ate one cracker with soft cheese.  Just one.  Forgive me.  The rest of the time I was all crudités and hommus and ginger beer with a slice of lime (Moscow Mule without the vodka).

With 3 weeks to go for Coastrek I know I'm not as prepared as last year, but I think it's enough to get through.  It just better not rain because I'm not sure if I have the mental fortitude to do another one in the rain.

So with the silly season lasting 1/4 of the year, I hope a mere month can detoxify me enough to do my overworked liver some good, and maybe even drop a few kilos?

Although I never said anything about chocolate...