The von Schokolats are scheduled to arrive some time this afternoon with my big bag o' European goodies. Hooray! The Baron called this morning to make sure that I saved him two PayDays. That's the thing about men ... it's like they don't realize you can just go to this mystical place called "the store" and buy what you want.
Holy cow. As I was just typing that I had a sudden memory. When I was little there was a consignment store in town called "The Store." I HATED that place. My mother would buy my clothes there and it freaked me out to wear someone else's clothes. (Two outfits particularly send shivers down my spine: the grey wool dress that my Sunday school teacher loved and the heinous itchy polyester pink pantsuit that I wore one time before finally declaring that I wouldn't wear anything besides jeans and a blue zippered sweatshirt, which, ironically enough, was used. My mother found it in church when she was cleaning up after Mass and no one claimed it, so it became mine.) But what does this have to with candy? Well, at some point "The Store" decided to expand its inventory and started selling candy, of all things. I remember walking home from school with my friends Melissa and Sean one day and we stopped there. I purchased a giant plastic tooth filled with gum. The irony of it made Melissa hysterical.
So anyhow, I'm looking forward to an evening of exotic candy tasting. And then tomorrow, we'll be venturing into New York City where I have a complete candy agenda set up. I'll report back as soon as I can!