I’m sitting here eating some 1% peach yogurt thinking it would be really, really, really good with a ribbon of hot fudge running through it. There’s a loaf of low-fat banana bread in the oven, which smells so good I want to weep. Yep, that’s me. Just shuffling around, getting in touch with my low-fat domestic side.

The recipe is from Nicole Jordan and is in Lori Foster’s — The Write Ingredients: Recipes From Your Favorite Authors. This book was produced to raise funds in support of American troops. There are some fabulously yum recipes in here. Try it. You’ll like it.

Nicole — If you’re out there listening, this was the best banana bread. Everyone raved about it. I did sprinkle the top of it with a mixture of cinnamon and brown sugar just before baking. I’m a cinnamon freak. Yep. That’s what I am. And here it is in all its glory. Man, can’t you just smell that?

Looking out my office window above the garage, I’ve noticed a big increase in walkers. Herds of walkers. I’m thinking I’m seeing a bunch of resolutions for the new year power-walking down the sidewalk.

A walk would probably be a pretty good idea about now, but I’ve already been out with Gracie Golden Pup and baby, it’s cold outside. Verra cold. For someone living in the Great White North, I’m not real partial to cold. Pretty much I’ve got a Southern Girl brain stuck in a Northern Girl body. Yikes! How did that happen? I know exactly how it happened. It was that old devil – love, with a capital L. Yes! I can blame it on Mr. G, honey.

I’m reading around the blogosphere, noting the hustle and bustle of bloggers greeting the new year with, well, a lot of hustle and bustle, while I’m straggling into 2009 like Baby New Year dragging the mother-of-all-blankies. I’m slowly shoveling out from the holiday season. Everyone else in my little nuclear fam was smart enough to exit the building days ago. Love you guys, too. I realized yesterday that I don’t have a wall calendar, nor diary, for the new year. How did that happen? The manuscript is beginning to feel like a cold case. I may have to call someone in. Sven is looking all grumpy. How long have you had that big, ugly, pulsey thing in your forehead, Sven? You should do something about that. Just sayin’.

There’s a big flatbed truck on my street, blocking my drive, with a few snow hotties gesturing — manspeak — getting ready to load a little red car that got its rear end popped this morning. Poor little red car.

So. How’s the new year working for you? Are you all hustle and bustle, focus straight ahead? Or, are you a bit of a straggler, like me?

Mr. G, honey has been leaving me funny little notes by the coffeemaker for the past week. My favorite started with — Good Morning, Ms. Phelps. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it…

Brooks & Dunn — my fave duo — are belting out Go West on my iPod. Maybe I should. Is it warmer? Well, not in the Great White North.

Elen