P returned home Saturday night bearing gifts after a business trip overseas. To S he gave the gift of fairies, for E princesses, for L squares of gourmet chocolate, and for me bon-bons and stroopwafels.
Stroopwafels, a traditional Dutch treat, are so sinfully delicious I plan to use use them as rewards for sitting butt in chair. As for bon-bons, I'd heard about them for years, but, until yesterday, have never had the pleasure of laying about eating one.
Imagine a foil-wrapped chocolate orb as large as a good-sized cherry tomato. Listen to the wrapper crinkle as you scrunch it and set it aside. Bite into chocolate so smooth and rich that Hershey's will never taste the same. Imagine wanting nothing more than to make that chocolately goodness last forever, and you suddenly understand how that old joke about eating bon-bons might have originated.
In recent years, my version of the joke has evolved into something like this:
"What does she do all day while pretending to write books, sit around and eat bon-bons?"
Taking a break from kid lit to read: Dates from Hell, featuring four otherworldly tales of paranormal trysts. The book has its moments, and vampires. Just in time for Halloween.
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