Thank you for all the birthday wishes last week! I had intended to post a prompt detailing of my celebrations, but my internet wasn’t cooperating with me, so I had to delay. Then other things like Bachelor Pad and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo happened. Don’t judge me. Okay, fine, judge me. But I also read! Twenty-five books read in 2012 so far. I felt like I needed to mention that to gain a smidgen of credibility back.
So on to my birthday! I had told The Mister that I would like to have a chocolate fondue for my birthday. He heard, “I would like to GO for chocolate fondue for my birthday.” Thankfully, we cleared up the misunderstanding before the unfortunate event of shelling out tons of money for very little return. There is nothing sadder on a birthday than not having a sufficient amount of chocolate – or feeling that I could have made better/more at home.
The Mister, Charlie and Lola did a great job of picking out a varied selection of dippers. One of my favourites was the plain, salted kettle chips. Oh dang. Dip those in chocolate and you will be in heaven with the salty-sweet combination. In hindsight, I should have fried up some bacon as well. That’ll happen next time; don’t even doubt it! The biggest surprise was the addition of cherries. I have seen the cherries for sale in the grocery store, but at $7/pound, I would only allow myself a longing look as I slowly walked by. But The Mister spoiled me with a few precious morsels that we megerly rationed to the children, leaving the rest for us. When you pay that much money for so little, the ones without an acutely discerning palate go without. They were more excited about dipping gummy bears into chocolate anyway.
“These chocolate covered sugar bombs are a little bland before I add some sugar!” – Calvin & Hobbes
The fondue was perfect. As was the day. I enjoyed an afternoon filled with finishing up reading Jane Eyre and then immediately followed that up with watching the movie. I was sorely disappointed with the dispassionate depiction of Mr. Rochester’s reunion with Jane. I comforted myself by licking out the fondue pot. I might be 37, but I haven’t grown up. And I clearly don’t have Jane’s class.