breakfast of champions.

I have eaten potato chips for breakfast just about every single day since we arrived on this island.  Salty, crunchy, oh-so-tasty, potato chips. The problem is that by the time we go home, I am going to need an intervention. Not to mention, a new wardrobe. See example: I open the refrigerator with every intention of grabbing a yogurt and some really good-looking blueberries that we picked up at the local (not-so-cheap) market. Suddenly, a little voice in my head says you're on vacation. eat the chips. And I do. Do I ever.

Even on days like today, where I resist their siren song at 9:30 am, I end up eating them for at least one meal. Tonight: second dinner. The worst part is that our first dinner was delicious. It was lobster! Seriously? What is wrong with me? This morning, when I asked Andy what he wanted for breakfast, he said potato chips. He doesn't even eat potato chips. Mom of the Year, right here:

Look at how big that bag is?!

note: I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I ate potato chips the entire time I sat here writing this (so how sorry can I be), and Tom just asked, "Do you need me to take them away from you?" I do. I definitely do.

One day left.