She won't see me pinching them though . . .
When I was growing up, we used to get so many boxes of chocolates. With six kids in the family, we were always pinching them to see what was in the center. When my parents got upset with the boxes of mutilated chocolates, we started operating on them with sewing needles, delicately drilling into the bottoms to see the core. The chocolates were pretty disgusting, even after the most careful needle drilling. It was always a tight moment when the chocolates were offered up to guests . . .
5 comments:
What an extraordinary story. It should be a scene in a movie. Yesterday, Jane's friend, who is accompanying us to New York later today, arrived bearing chocolates. I knew suddenly what season it was. (As Dirty Harry might have put it, "to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track.") When I arrived at the vet the other day with my dog Edie for her check-up, a woman had driven all the way from Philadelphia to the suburban animal hospital (I guess they'd had a long relationship) bearing a Whitman's Sampler as big as I imagine Boardwalk to be if we lived in Monopoly World. I was overwhelmed by her gesture and felt sadly deficient. Curtis
Is it just me, or does the Mayan word for cocoa perhaps resembles the puzzled countenance of someone who has accepted one of those altered chocolates, and is (as yet) too courteous to let on?
In a similar vein, as a child (and, sadly, even today) I would be so excited at the sight of freshly baked cookies that I would consistently confuse, as I waited for an opportune moment to steal one off the cooling rack, raisins for chocolate chips. Horrified disappointment (I hated raisins for most of my childhood) awaited me, I'd say, 50% of the time. In hindsight percentage should have been sufficient to educate me in the whole "look before you eat" lesson of life -- but, no.
I've never heard of a disgusting chocolate, Nin. ;)
Oh, those giant boxes, Curtis. I remember piles of them. I don't know why my parents attracted so many boxes of chocolate.
And I love that, Tom.
And yes, I agree, Brad, who wants a raisin instead of chocolate? Really. Get real.
But oh there are revolting chocolates. The ones with the maraschino cherries, for example . . .
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