Chocolate Covered Gummy Bears. OMG.

Chocolate.  Covered.  Gummy.  Bears.

Need I say more?

These little sweet treats are irresistible.  I typically go for savory treats over sweet ones -- I love me some popcorn -- but if I can get my hands on some of these little guys...there is no contest.

I love lots of different kinds of candy and chocolate covered gummy bears combine two of my favorites.  Gummy bears are just dandy (I especially love the mini ones!) and chocolate is divine.  Combine these two and you have a true masterpiece.  They are beyond addictive and I find myself eating all of them in my possession in one sitting.  It is like I cannot stop myself once I start.  They call out to me from the candy bowl.

Lucky for me, chocolate covered gummy bears are usually only found in specialty sweet shops and candy stores.  If I have to drive more than five miles to get them, I can usually convince myself it is not worth it.  They are also fairly expensive.  Convincing myself that spending $30 on candy is not a good financial plan is easy.  So I cut calories and the dent in my wallet by only allowing myself these little delights every once in a while.  My waistline thanks me.  My taste buds do not.

Go.  Go get them.  Now.  You will not regret it.

The Candy Man Can

I absolutely, positively LOVE candy!!!  If I could eat it all day long, I certainly would.  I've never met a candy I didn't like -- except for black licorice.  And, quite honestly, I would probably even eat black licorice in a pinch.  I eat so much candy that my coworkers call me "Junk Mouth."  Not the most endearing nickname, but an accurate one, I suppose.

I'm not a candy snob by any means.  Like I mentioned earlier, I have a sincere love for nearly all kinds of candy.  Chocolates, fruity candies, hard candies, gummy candies, etc.  They all hold a special place in my heart.  I appreciate each kind of candy for it's uniqueness.  But if I had to choose only one candy to satisfy me for the rest of eternity, I would pick Goetze's caramel creams. 

source

OH MY. 

Heaven in a bag.

I cannot eat enough of them.  The worst/best part is that the Dollar Tree sells them in the big bags.  I can have a whole huge bag of them for $1.  It's a blessing because my favorite treat is just $1 away...it's a curse because my favorite treat is just $1 away.  They are too accessible for me and I can't stop eating them once I start.  In fact, I eat them by the bagful in one sitting.  It's terrible, I know, but I have no willpower when it comes to the caramel creams.  They are just too delicious for me and I am too weak.

I hope that I never live in a world where I am forced to only eat one kind of candy, but if my nightmare was to come true, I would happily live out the rest of my life with unlimited bags of my beloved Goetze's caramel creams. 

To the Rescue!

I don’t remember that we discussed it ahead of time; I think the spirit just moved me that warm autumn afternoon. The Boy had to be on campus for whatever reason doing grad-student-type things, so I grabbed my gardening gloves and headed into our wild, overgrown backyard with the rake. Now, you know me, fearless readers … I’m not much for voluntarily wandering out-of-doors for the heck of it or for doing manual labor. But there I was, raking to beat the band behind our rented brick house on a fall Saturday. I think I was raking at least two years’ worth of leaves and I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn I was battling a Gemino Curse.

The footprint of the backyard was as big as our house, but since The Boy’s not here to tell me what that translates to in real area and I am also not much for spatial relationships, I’m going to say I raked about 500 square feet that day. (I’ll find out what will probably turn out to be a wildly different truth and update my post accordingly when I see him next.) Time stood still as I chugged along. I was a machine—a sweat-soaked, beet-faced, pigtailed machine. A machine who was being watched. I wheeled around, the project nearly done after hours and hours of hard, dusty, scratchy, blistery work, to find The Boy outside the back-porch door. He was just standing there watching me with an enormous grin on his face and his head cocked ever-so-slightly. I’ll never forget how perfectly himself he was in that moment.

I grinned back. “What?”

“I’ve just never seen you work so hard,” he replied with amusement and bewilderment and quite a bit of pride in his voice.

Fair enough. We were newlyweds. He hasn’t ever seen me work so hard since, either, unless you count the huffing and puffing I do on “Easy to Moderate” hikes.

The Boy walked across the now-neat yard (I was so proud of that yard! I admired it through the window at the sink while washing dishes for weeks afterwards. The grass looked like it had been vacuumed, it was all so straight and neat and debris-free.) and kissed my damp radiator self. He gently freed the rake from my grip so he could take over the last, hardest part where the tree trunks closed ranks near the alley and the ivy vines started snatching at the tines—the part I always called “the little jungle.” He finished the project in what seemed like minutes and then put me in a nice hot bubble bath while he went to pick up Cook-Out milkshakes for us.

He also got poison oak.

I did not.

"Dazzey Duks" Superman Style

I have so many memories of Superman from over the years that it is hard to choose just one.  I have many memories of him being so kind and generous.  I have a few that make me cry -- like the first time he ever saw Superboy.  I have many that make me smile and I have even more that make me laugh.  I just love spending time with my man.  So, for your entertainment, I have picked one that I always go to when I need a pick-me-up.  Since that is the point of this week's posts, I thought we could all use a laugh.  So, here you go.

Back when we lived in Washington, D.C., we lived in a high-rise apartment building that had a huge awning over the front doors.  It made it nice for rainy days, but it also amplified any sound that happened under it.  (That is paramount to this story, I promise.)  So, one springtime afternoon, we had been out running errands.  I cannot honestly tell you what all we did that day, but I will always remember that just as we turned into our apartment building's parking lot, a song came on the radio.

Now, you must know that Superman likes to sing in the car.  We both do.  He is usually a very restrained person and there have been several occasions on which I wish he were a little more expressive.  I am talking about dancing, being crazy with an audience, etc.  He just does not show emotion in public very well and he will rarely get out on a dance floor with me.  Our entire first dance at our wedding was him asking me how much longer it was going to last.  He did manage to whisper some sweet nothings to me during that dance too, but it was mostly him wishing it was over.

So, the song that came on the radio was "Dazzey Duks" by Duice.  Not typically a song we listen to, but it was on the radio and we turned it up loud.  It is a good one to make you feel young again, you know?  We were both singing along.  As we reached the awning at the front of our building, I turned the music down so that when I got out the entire universe would not be treated to our musical choice.  What happened next is truly one of the funniest things Superman has ever done.

As I got out of the car and shut my door, he put the passenger side window down.  He BLASTED the radio and was singing and dancing along.  It was HYSTERICAL.  I still remember freezing in place and gawking at him because I could not believe it was happening.  I was in shock.  Then, I started laughing.  Before I could even really react beyond laughing, Superman rolled up the window and sped off to park the car.

I still laugh out loud every time I remember Superman practically yelling the lyrics to the chorus of that song at me.  It was just so out of character and I loved it.  He still surprises me sometimes, that man of mine.  Gotta love a man who can jam to "Dazzey Duks" with you -- and try to embarrass you and make you laugh at the same time.

Discovering Paris

As we've previously discussed, I've been blessed to have traveled to many parts of the globe during my formative years.  My husband, on the other hand, had never been given the opportunity to travel abroad, specifically France.  He had taken French in high school in order to earn his foreign language credit.  He loved pictures of the Eiffel Tower.  He made oogly eyes over books about the Louvre.  Quite simply, Jas had a love affair with Paris.

When the opportunity to travel to Paris (as well as Monte Carlo and Amsterdam) with 2 other couples presented itself, we jumped on it.  And now, some 6 years later, we still talk about the memories we made.

Amsterdam and Monte Carlo were incredible, but for Jas, Paris naturally took the cake.  Watching him discover Paris will forever be one of my favorite memories of him.  From the time we stepped foot off the Eurail and onto French soil, Jas was in his element.  He translated signs and asked locals for directions - tasks the others in our party could not do.  Jas took full advantage of his time in Paris, immersing himself in the culture.  One night, he even drug me to the Eiffel Tower late, late at night while the others slept.  My grumblings quickly turned to praises for his idea when the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower lit up the Parisian night. 

Yes, our time in Paris was magnificent and more amazing than I ever dreamt it would be.  And I'm forever grateful that I watched a dream of my husband's come true, right before my very eyes.

I Wonder What is My Favorite Memory of My Husband?

I pondered doing some kind of serious wonder - the Boston marathon bombing took the wind out of everyone's sails last week, and we could do some sort of homage.  But to be honest with you all, I'm weary of seriousness.  I could use a look toward positivity.  And to that end, I thought that - seeing as how all us Wonder Women have been married for a fair bit of time - we could wonder about our Hubsters.  (And if, for whatever reason, this ain't a good week to reminisce about your partner, pick another relative to Wonder about!)

I have a few silly memories of my husband.  But one of my favorites actually occurred many years ago, just before we were married.  We were visiting MSO Rin in her lovely home, and we'd had a few too many lemonades, as they say.  My husband, somewhat overstimulated by his surroundings out West, decided he was a cowboy.  He tipped a hat to the back of his head, and kept calling me "darlin'" and speaking a lasso-wranglin' drawl and walking/waddling as if he'd been riding a horse all day.  I do believe that the drinkies he had that night helped him live out a Willie Nelson fantasy of sorts - his heroes have always been cowboys.  (In fact, our dog is named for Wyatt Earp's brother.  Bet you didn't know that!)

Lots of water has passed under the bridge between now and then, but I'll never forget how I married a cowboy at heart.

What is your favorite memory of your other half?

They'll Probably Be Cancelled ...

… because we’re fans.

The Boy and I have this knack for falling head-over-remote in love with shows on network TV (yes, we recognize that that’s our first mistake) that the suits fall just as quickly in “blah” with. So we watch, we obsess, they cancel, and we mourn.

This cycle has been repeated so much that we think we must have the Grim.

Below is a partial list of those shows we’ve loved and lost, just so you know I’m for serious.

“Last Resort,” “Wonderfalls,” “Journeyman,” “Karen Sisco,” “Alcatraz,” “Prime Suspect” (the NBC one with Maria Bello), “Terra Nova” (well, I saw that one coming but I humored The Boy), “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip,” “Veronica Mars,” “Pushing Daisies,” “Eli Stone,” “Miss Match,” “Reaper,” “Ringer” (OK, we all know I was on my own there), “Firefly,” “Boomtown,” “Jake 2.0,” “Don’t Trust the B--- in Apt. 23,” “Awake.”

So now I feverishly check up on our favorite shows of the current season (the ones that haven’t already been cancelled, anyway) and start getting really nervous every time we spend an hour (or maybe a half-hour) being superbly entertained by something because it more than likely won’t exist to entertain us next season. Because we liked it too hard, maybe? Like Lenny? And someone from the networks had to pull the plug since we’ve both aged out of the 18-to-34 key demographic and therefore no longer matter?

 

So be fearful, fearless readers, if some of the things you regularly add to your HuluPlus queue include “Happy Endings,” “Up All Night,” “Hannibal,” “Community,” or “The Mindy Project” (OK, we all know I’m on my own there). Because if we like it, and it’s not “Revolution” or “The Following,” its fate probably hangs in the balance.

We apologize in advance.