Chocolate. In its purest form, it’s nothing but a harsh, bitter bean. Once, when I was a child, I licked my finger and dipped it into the cocoa my mother was using to bake with, thinking it was chocolate powder.
It was an experience I would never repeat.
But you add a little sugar to it, and everything changes. You have something wonderful. Tongue-tingling. Addictive, even.
It’s a process, like everything else. It takes work. It takes time. It requires harvesting and fermenting and crushing and melting and transforming.
Bitter to sweet. Harsh to smooth. Energy, effort, struggle, triumph. The cacao bean ain’t gonna transform itself, after all. It needs some help to get there. It needs somebody who wants the finished product badly enough to follow all the steps through to the end.
I’m glad the Mayans discovered how to turn the humble cacao bean into something delectible. I’m glad they didn’t sneer at the weird pods that hung all about them and dismiss them as completely useless.
I’m glad I have a Creator who knows I can be more than meets the eye, too. He knows exactly what I need in order to become what I was meant to be.
*pause to reflect upon the monumental truth I’ve just laid out, as violins play a soft and gentle melody*
*massive belch*
*snicker*
I’m also glad to know that too much sweet is just plain sickening.
On that note, let’s give away some chocolate, shall we?
The great and powerful Random.org speaks, and spews out a number…and that number issssss….
TWENTY-ONE
Melanie!! Who said:
Mel, your wish is my command. I’m so happy you won! I’ll get your chocolates to you just as soon as I get your info!
And thank you to EVERYBODY who entered my contest. The chocolates can be purchased here if you still want to try them on for size; I promise they are worth it!
ps. if you have a metaphor for me, just leave it, or a link to your post, in my comments!
So I woke up this morning and literally catapulted out of bed, as though the coffee I was planning to consume in an hour or so was already coursing through my veins due to some sort of space/time paradox occurring, and after shooting into my clothing, I raced away in the car to gather donuts and Starbucks sandwiches because it’s Saturday and that’s what Saturday means if you look it up, and now I’m sitting here with actual coffee charging through my veins along with a glazed donut and I think some sort of cardiac explosion is in my near future.
“I’m Walking On Sunshine” was playing on the radio, and I cranked it up, even though it looks like this outside and is very NOT like walking on sunshine.
The above photo was taken at my parents’ house, where I spent the last couple of days having a wee little bit of a getaway with my five eldest girls. We talked and shopped and looked at old photographs and had a good time, in spite of the non-walking-on-sunshine weather.
It’s not that there isn’t beauty in gloom. Just that you have to look a little harder to find it. For example:
(all photos my own ‘cept for the last one…that’s Rose’s)
Not to mention we had this divine creature with us…
The little bugger is 10 months old now. Who gave him permission?
We went to my favorite bookstore…
and bought a few things…
and went to lunch…
at the sandwich shops, the walls were lined with superhero posters…
my hero(ine)
This is Martian Manhunter. It occurred to me that I had seen him somewhere before. And then I realized.
I now know Martian Manhunter’s alter ego: it’s Ed Harris!
Speaking of superheroes, here’s a picture of my sister and me.
Haha! We’re not really superheroes. That I know of.
My sister doesn’t read my blog. No matter how hard I try to get her to. But I still love her. I guess.
No, really! I do. I do love her. Even though she gave me a black eye once.
Ah…memories.
So what I’m trying to say is, we had a good couple of days. Today is greyer than ever before and we have another (UH. NUH. THER.) winter storm warning in the works for tomorrow, and I’d cry if it wasn’t for the walking-on-sunshine song still vibrating my brain stem.
Also, these pictures make me happy.
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Postponing yet another winter mental meltdown: check.
All right, all right, I give in. I’ll post about LOST. After last season’s spectacularly hideous ending, I was completely ambivalent about watching the show at all anymore. I knew I would never be happy with whatever cockamamie, half-assed, pathetic excuse for a wrap-up they would try to foist off on viewers, but on the other hand, could I seriously not watch it through to the grand finale?
I think I could not. I’m fairly certain my life would not be diminished in any way by not continuing to view the series. When I think of all the ways the writers have disgusted me, frustrated me, and insulted my intelligence, I get a little angry. They could have ended the thing literally years ago, but they couldn’t just go ahead and fish, they had to cut bait for ten thousand episodes in which they introduced characters for the sole purpose of killing them off. Genius.
However, not watching the show would mean joining the ranks of unlucky souls who have to endure hearing people talk about their theories concerning it.
Ultimately, there were five reasons I decided to continue to the bitter end:
(josh. get some dirt on. you look like a weenie)
I know! I know! I’m sorry! But I have to be honest. Without this lineup, I’d be sayin’ sayonara faster than you can count to 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42.
Let’s be serious, people. The plot is in a shambles. It has never lived up to the standard it set in its (sniffle, snort, *HONK*) mind-blowingly fabulous first season. You remember the first season? The season full of mystery, intrigue, and strange things that went SKREEEAK!!! SKROOONK!!! RAAAAA!! in the night? The season where Jack was admirable and noble, and Locke was freakin’ awesome? The season before I wanted to wrap Kate in cotton candy and set fire to her?
As it was, the grand kick-off episode did not suck quite as spectacularly as I was prepared for. I was surprised by how fondly I still felt about many of the characters, how fervently I still want everything to somehow turn out all right for them, and how much I enjoy it when Ben looks like this:
oh yeah. he’s confused.
Locke, while not exactly Locke, finally seemed to have a purpose and conviction again, albeit an almost certainly evil one, and although Sawyer did not exactly say F*** off, B****!! to Kate, I’m almost sure that he thought it, and that counts for something, right?
At the other end of the spectrum, were I and my family alone in our gape-mouthed-horror-which-rapidly-turned-to-hysterical-laughter-response to the “underwater island” CG JOKE? And who else wishes fervently that the smoke monster would just go back to being a terrifying idea instead of looking like the Tasmanian Devil doing a little freelance work just to make ends meet?
So, Jacob and The Smoke Monster (who we will call SM from now on, for brevity’s sake), are obviously some sort of opposing Egyptian dieties duking it out with each other in a grand chess match involving human beings as pawns. Maybe they were sent to the island ages ago as some sort of punishment by even higher powers? And Jacob is so obviously going to use Sayid’s body to perambulate around in, but I’m believing that it will be in a benevolant sharing sort of capacity. You know, a capacity that leaves Sayid completely unharmed in the end, when Jacob finds a more convenient mode of transportation.
Don’t pop my bubble, people. It’s all I have.
If the writers of the show hoped to distract viewers from the gazillion-and-forty questions still unanswered by throwing out a few tantalizing clues wrapped up in one or two WTF! moments and plenty of parallel universe scenes to convince us that no way, not ever, nuh-uh, no you DON’T, want the series to end with Oceanic 815 landing peacefully at LAX, then, well…they succeeded. At least for me.
At any rate, I have hope that the season will not be too painful to watch after all.
Top Ten Foods I Would Totally Make Out With, If Making Out With Food Was Even Remotely Possible
10. Salted Milk Chocolate Caramels
 (don’t forget to enter the giveaway if you haven’t already!)
9. Crepes with lemon butter and powdered sugar.
8. Crab Linguini Alfredo
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7. P.F. Chang’s Crispy Green Beans with that sauce that makes me all tingly
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6. Garlic Naan
5. Garlic Sea Scallops and Shrimp from Bonefish Grill
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4. A really good, warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie
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3. Coffee
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Is it a food? Or is it a drug? Either way, I’m not sure it should be legal.
2. Bacon Gouda Breakfast Sandwich from Starbucks
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1. Ham and Cheese Calzone from La Gondola Restaurant in Stavanger, Norway.
This item no longer exists. The restaurant no longer exists. Except in my imagination, where I swear I can still taste it just as clearly as when I was a pudgy teenager drowning my expat sorrows in Italian food made by Asian hands in a Scandinavian country. Weird. But also sublime.
Got ten foods that make you want to have their babies? Take Mr. Squidly, link up in comments, or just come on our and spill it, ya sicko! Confession is good for the soul, they say.
(is anybody else suddenly STARVING TO DEATH? maybe it’s just me…)
This is a special day. A special, special day.
For one thing, it is no longer January.
For another thing, it’s February. Which, in a wacky twist of fate, comes after January.
It is the first day of Black History month.
It is the day that Mary Shelley died.
It is the day that MY DAD was born! And Clark Gable. My Dad grew a moustache once and I thought he looked like Clark Gable. I have no pictures for evidence at the moment, but I’ll get right on it.
On this day in 1861, Texas seceded from the United States. Abraham Lincoln said “over my dead body!” or something like that.
On this day in 2004, Janet Jackson bared her breast during the Super Bowl halftime show. Abraham Lincoln could not be reached for comment.
February is a short month. The shortest month of the year. Did you know that the ancient Romans gave us our calendar? And that, at first, it only had ten months? And that the last month was December, and it lasted for all of Winter? Because the Romans considered Winter to be a “monthless” season?
I would also add that it is a cheerless, bitter season of creeping, quiet desperation, but I can’t verify if the Romans would have gone that far. Probably not, considering that they had the Mediterranean.
This is also my 535th post. Five Hundred and Thirty-Five. Heavens to murgatroid. That’s a lot of drivel.
I wasn’t paying ANY attention when my 500th post went by. I’m not sure which one it was. I could count backwards, but that would require, well, counting backwards, so let’s just pretend that 535 is the REAL number to get jazzed about, mkay?
Not that, so far, I have said ANYTHING that would cause you to get jazzed IN THE SLIGHTEST MODICUM. But let me change all of that right now.
Because right now, without further ado, I give you this:
Are you not tantalized? Hypnotized? Mesmerized by the beautiful brown shades and the silky ribbon? I know I was. My heart went pitty-pat when it came in the mail from My Beloved. Then I started to open it.
Oh my.
Oh my stars.
Oh my stars and garters.
Oh my stars and garters and lacy unmentionables.
And then I ate one. And it was like death, but in a good way! (name that movie, just for fun?)
SALTED CARAMELS, my friends. Almost paradise. We’re knockin’ on Heaven’s door. Almost paradise. How could we ask for more?
Name that movie, too. Just for fun.
As beautiful as these beautiful beauties are, I have to confess: they tasted even better. If your most decadent experience with caramel has been a casual Twix bar here and there, let me assure you that YOU HAVE NO IDEA of what caramel was meant to be. These will ruin you for anything else. RUIN YOU.
Now, I am prepared to give away a box of these precious lovelies to one of you. AND, just because I know not everyone’s taste buds run as adventurous as some, I will let you choose whether you want salted or unsalted, milk or dark chocolate.
Or if you’ve never tasted the wonder that is a salted caramel and you think you might be ready to adjust your worldview a hair, you can get a mixture! Just calm down, put your head between your legs, breathe into a paper bag, and let me know in the comments.
That’s it! Just leave me a comment and you’ll go into the hat. Rather, your name will go into the hat.
Fran’s Chocolates, you don’t know me from a hole in your head, but I must tell you, you changed my life. Or at least my salivary glands. Thank you.
(giveaway will end on February 7th at the stroke of midnight…chocolates should arrive by Valentine’s Day, barring acts of God)
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