December Crazies

December's a crazy time in our family.  Finals are here for Megan, the house needs to be decorated with ALL THE THINGS, there are fifteen bajillion church services to plan and sing--sometimes you just want to FLY AWAY!

Yeah, I think I got a little crazy.  But seriously, I think if I flap hard enough, my hair might be able to lift me up off the ground.  Megan could grab my foot, and we'd just fly away.  Probably go to Port Orford.

Silly videos isn't the only way we relieve December Stress, though.

It was an ordinary Thursday, except the following day, Megan had a final.  So, I guess it wasn't so ordinary, now that I think of it.  We had been shopping for our Angel Tree girl, who wanted a Guitar and a Piano.  With the help of Toys "Backwards R" Us and Wal-Mart, we made that happen.

"What do you want for dessert?" she asked.

He didn't reply immediately but instead stared at the ceiling for a good fifteen seconds.  "I don't know.  I never know. What about a pot brownie from Freebirds?"

"Well...ok, if you want."

He drove on, the lights from the Wal-Mart parking lot dancing on the windshield of the car.  They were almost to Freebirds when he saw it.

"Wait," he said.  "Wait a damn minute.  What about Froyo?"

The U-Swirl place was right next to Freebirds.  It called to them, beckoning.  Come inside, it said.  Come get some sprinkles with a side of yoghurt.  You know you want the sprinkles.

He turned the car into the parking lot.  "Let's do this."


*******

Ok, perhaps that was a tad dramatic, but let me tell you: this was life-changing.  We're getting our yoghurt. (aside: Who came up with the spelling for that one?). I'm filling up on sprinkles, as is my want, when I see it:

O M G

Christmas Tree Cakes.  Just waiting there for me to eat them.  You could have as many as you want.  You could just fill an entire cup with them. Well, I'm not a glutton.  I'm only getting one.

That's what I'm talking about

In another bin, Megan saw something amazing, too.  Seems this store has a Little Debbie fan as the owner, because they had SANTA BROWNIES.

Mouth or Nose? We say Mouth.  Santa has a Hipster Grin.

So yes, friends, as my wife declared, this was the best decision of the whole day.  BEST DECISION.

Christmas.  In Froyo Form.

O Christmas Tree Cake, O Christmas Tree Cake...

Friends, I’m writing to you today to tell you about the war.  It’s a war waged not in the streets or our homes, but in the aisles of the local grocer.  It’s not the war on Christmas, the war on drugs, or even the war on who gets the television remotes.

No, I’m talking about the war on snacks.  

Some of you might remember the great Cadbury Egg fiasco of aught-seven, when the famous chocolatier started making their gooey-gift-from-God eggs smaller.  We cried out in terror, yet we were silenced.  Finally, we ate our smaller eggs, knowing that they owned our candy-souls.

This kind of thing has been cropping up a lot recently.  Just this year, M&M Mars announced that due to new regulations, all candy bars will be under 250 calories.  Some of the regular-sized bars will be slimming down as a result.  

I ask  you, can we let this injustice stand?  Are we not men and women?  Do we not need chocolate in our lives?  Is it not our own choice how much we should consume?

This past week saw the establishment of a new theatre by the Man in the war on snacks.  For years, Megan and I have enjoyed Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes.  They are a Christmas Tradition dating back nearly two decades.  It’s a race to see who can find the first box, and it’s a challenge to not eat them all in one sitting.

We were elated to find the boxes out already last weekend.  Since we’re past October now, it’s fair game to celebrate Christmas a little early and stuff our faces with snack-cakey goodness. We picked up two boxes and ate them without a second thought.

Something was wrong, though.  Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew that something wasn’t right.  I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but it gnawed at my soul with the persistence of a termite trying to bring down a giant redwood.  

As I was eating my third cake a few days later, it suddenly hit me.  I ran to look at the box to see if my suspicions were correct.  They had changed the box design the year before, and I wanted to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

Meet the new Box. Not the same as the old Box.

Sure enough, something was different, but to be sure I had a take a trip.  A trip to the past.

Flux Capacitor...Fluxing.

Ok, more like a trip to Google Image Search.  

It took less than two seconds to find a picture of the cakes from the year before.  After all, who doesn’t love Christmas Tree Cakes?  

I found the picture of a box from yesteryear.  I looked at it closely, then looked at the cake in my hand.

The Classic Box

My God, what have they done?

They made the trees actual trees!  Before, they were mere triangles with stumps on the end.  They were like the Forms; pure versions of the concept of the tree.  It was clear what they were.  Long have children made paper Christmas trees with green construction paper cut into a triangle.  

But no. No, the war had to have some casualties, and it would be the edges of our precious triangular trees.  Cut down with a chainsaw, the icing falling like snow into the rubbish bin.  

Now our cakes are slightly smaller.  Slightly less fulfilling, nutritionally and spritually.  For now with every bite, we admit defeat in the war.  

We need to end this war.  We need to make silly posts such as this one to stop this mindless downsizing.  Won’t someone think of our taste buds? 

Christmas Tree Cake eaters of the world Unite!  Let us rise up and—hey wait, I still need to eat this Christmas Tree Cake in my hand.

What was I saying again?