Three things first:
1. I just got all the Christmas cards finished finally – over 218 of them in the mail, some as far as Australia and Singapore. I, of course, expect at least 200 cards in the mail in response.
2. I also got a new smiley – check it out. Thanks to Tori for the GIF!
3. I haven't read blogs or commented in three days, nor have I replied to anyone's comment. I'll get on that today.
When I was 8, I read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series over the course of a weekend. I was absolutely enthralled with them. The books had adventure, love, mystery, death, war, sadness, happiness – everything you could want in an epic tale. I loved Aslan the Jesus Lion, Puddleglum the Marshwiggle, Reepicheep the brave mouse, and Bree the Horse. But most of all, I was fascinated with the idea of Turkish Delight. What could this food possibly be that had such a hold over Edmund that he would betray his whole family just for more of it? I could only imagine how delicious and mouth watering this delicacy would be, and part of me thought that I would die before ever achieving my dream of tasting Turkish Delight.
But like a balding, bespectacled Superman, Dan from All That Comes With It swooped to my rescue. Early last week (I would have posted this earlier, but I had to answer everyone's questions!), I received a package that was practically brimming over with magical goodness in the form of Turkish Delight.
Eagerly, I tore the package open. And while I didn't experience light from the heavens and an angelic choir when I opened the box, my anticipation was at its breaking point.
I grabbed a lemon one and bit in with gusto.
Like the connoisseur that I am, I savored the flavor and bouquet.
I also grimaced at the flavor and bouquet.
Maybe it wasn't the lemon flavored one that Edmund loved so much.
Well, it sure as fuck wasn't the rose ones! Who thinks it's a good idea to make a delicious magical candy taste like stale rose water mixed with rotten rose petals?
Someone liked it. But she also eats food that smells like my ass.
Thanks to Dan for hearing about my dreams and answering them by lifting them high above the earth and letting them plummet at terminal velocity through the atmosphere, bursting into flame and smashing in a charred pile in a car crusher, which then crushes those dreams into a small tablet that is fed to a homeless person who then just shits it out on the sidewalk.
If C. S. Lewis wasn't dead already, I'd kick him in the head.
