The R Word

MONDAY. I regret to inform that Wednesday's forecast now calls for rain, not snow. I have very mixed emotions about this. Regardless of the nature of this precipitation, the weather will turn sharply colder this week. I think someone flipped the winter switch. This would be a good time to inventory my hot cocoa supplies. Maybe I'll even buy some wood.


I've learned over the past few years that "hot" and "cold" are relative terms. Four years ago, after an extremely cold New Hampshire winter, I recall talking to Mom on the phone in May and reporting (with glee) that it was finally "warm," which meant "above freezing." In the North Country folks were known to venture outside in thin jackets when the temperature skyrocketed to 25.

Before living in Florida, "hot" meant 80. Now it means "100."

I'm not sure if our bodies adapt to climate extremes or whether we simply talk ourselves into feeling comfortable under adverse conditions. The truth is, we don't have much choice. If we don't make peace with the weather, we're apt to feel miserable. Trust me, I know.

No misery here today. It's time to make some cocoa.

Snow crystal photo used with permission of Ken Libbrecht, author of several books about snowflakes. For a wealth of information on snow crystals and snowflakes, check out SnowCrystals.com.

Chocotoxication

FRIDAY EVENING. I've been scarfing down Halloween candy for three days. My carefully chosen chocolate purchases were all for naught. Not one trick or treater showed up at our door. It's hard to not take this apparent snub personally. We left the lights on and heard children walking up the street, but no one came a-knockin'. Even the dog was depressed over this turn of events.

Anticipating leftover candy, I bought only my favorites. No Skittles, Jolly Ranchers or Gummy Worms--just chocolate. Delicious, smooth, intoxicating chocolate. I now question the wisdom behind this ill-conceived strategy.

Yes, I admit to expressing hope for leftover candy only a few days ago, but I honestly didn't realize how quickly the addiction would kick in. Those little snack-sized bars slide down too easily. One bar is never enough. Even two leave me craving another. M begged me to hide the bowl of treats. So I did. My file cabinet is now adorned with Kit-Kats, Snickers and Peanut Butter Cups.

I am slipping into a chocoholic stupor. Snickers bars are legal crack. It's possible we'll need to hire a contractor to widen our doorways. I fantasize about the neighbors finding me on the floor of my office, imprisoned by my own uncontrollably expanding hips, sweet chocolate elixir dripping from the corners of my mouth.

I'm in trouble. Help me, Rhonda!

Dieties In Our Food

SATURDAY. I came across this item from the AP early this morning.

"Workers at Angiano's gourmet chocolate company, Bodega Chocolates, discovered under a vat a 2-inch-tall column of chocolate drippings that they believe bears a striking resemblance to the Virgin Mary.

"Since the discovery Monday, Angiano's employees have spent much of their time hovering over the tiny figure, praying and placing rose petals and candles around it."

Several years ago, a British woman sold her 10-year-old cheese sandwich bearing the image of the Virgin for $28,000 on eBay.


And we all remember the sad story of the Mother Teresa cinnamon bun (the "Nun Bun"), stolen from a Tennessee coffee shop on Christmas Day, 2005, where it was lovingly ensconced in a display case.


But wait, there's more. There's the Virgin Mary toast --


...the Jesus toast (I think this looks more like Che Guevara, but since I haven't seen a recent photo of Jesus, I can't be sure...) --


...and, as a recent Southwest transplant, I cast my vote for my personal favorite, the Virgin Mary tortilla.


I'm off to Einstein's now to find Buddha in a bagel, with a shmear that might just resemble the Pillsbury Doughboy.