Unfortunately, I happen to, every once in awhile, get a Taco Bell craving that is so strong that the armies of Hell itself couldn’t stop me from eating intestine-shredding, soul-crippling Taco Bell. I also happen to have an enabler husband who will very generously go out in all kinds of weather to get us food. One such scenario posited itself the other night, and I found myself on the Taco Bell website trying to decide what I wanted. This is what greeted me:

At first I thought Taco Bell was just finally manning up and telling me what I already knew about my occasional indulgence in their food-adjacent product. I thought maybe God was using the Taco Bell website to send me some kind of message – “DON’T DO IT PLEASE! ADULT ONSET DIABETES IS JUST ONE CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH AWAY!”

Then, I realized that this website was in mourning. And THEN, I realized that the “Bell” in Taco Bell is actually a dude’s name. It threw my whole world into disarray – who is Hardee? Who is Carl, Jr.? For that matter – who is Carl, Sr.? Is there a Mr. Sonic, America’s Drive-In out there? And how on earth did Glen Bell live to be 86 years old given that he HAD to have eaten some of his chain’s food at some point? I naturally assumed my continued Runs for the Border® would leave me with a lifespan more comparable to Jesus or Mozart than, say, Betty White, not to mention endless cases of Runs for the Border®.

At any rate, I eventually got deeper into the website, where I was confronted with another conundrum. Which is when this conversation ensued.

Me: Do you see any difference between these two pictures?

Brian: Let’s see. Both have crisp, freshly prepared tortilla chips, seasoned ground beef, warm nacho cheese sauce, hearty beans, diced ripe tomatoes, and reduced fat sour cream.

Me: Well – which one is bigger?

Brian: I don’t know.

Me: i want whichever one is bigger. Get me whichever one is bigger. So I can win.

This is our dining room table about ten minutes before our Christmas party guests started showing up:

Note the red tinsel over the kitchen door. Sometime this week I have a funny story about that.

You can’t tell from here, but there are no fewer than three dishes from The Pioneer Woman’s website on that table. Right in front of the reindeer-head cookie jar in the middle is monkey bread.

This is my friend K.C. Clifford:

K.C. warned me after that Christmas party that I am never, ever allowed to make monkey bread again. It’s too good. It’s too tempting. It’s too easy to stand before that dish and eat every last delicious bite. I mean – buttermilk biscuits soaked in sugar, butter and vanilla? How is a person supposed to resist that? IT’S JUST TOO DELICIOUS, I TELL YOU. But this is what the holidays are for.

So, today, to say thanks, K.C. and I wandered up to our friendly neighborhood Barnes and Noble to say thanks to The Pioneer Woman herself for all the deliciousness, as she was there signing books. We read the Postsecret books while we stood in line. Finally, it was our turn, and K.C. not only got her cookbook signed, but got to give Ree a copy of her new record, Orchid.

Then it was my turn. I told Ree how K.C. had forbidden me from ever, ever making Monkey Bread in her presence again and how my family had asked me to make her sourdough bread pudding for Christmas. She gave me a couple good tips, and I was so excited that I forgot to tell her that it was one of my photos she recently chose as one of her black & white favorites, but I just plum forgot. Which is okay, because I’d meant to bring her a print of that very photo, and I forgot that too.

It’s Christmas. Cut me some freaking slack.

At any rate, she was as sweet as could be, and now i have a signed copy of her cookbook, which is awesome, as I no longer have to haul the laptop into the kitchen with me when I’m cooking her recipes, including SANDWICH! This is good, as my computer does tend to get a little dusted with flour and sugar when I do that.

At any rate, thanks, Ree, for being such a sweetheart, and thanks to K.C. and Brian for standing in line with me. Have a great Christmas, everyone.