A Little Time in the Reserves--The Cacao Reserves, That Is

Every day, long about 10am, I have to have me a little chocolate.

Sometimes more than a little.

Like so many of my little quirks and addictions, I have to point the finger at my parents for this problem. They ate sweets everyday, and I was allowed to have a little treat every day so long as I ate most of what they put on my plate at dinner. Each evening when one or the other of the parental units would make the daily trip up to the Convenient (I love it when stores are named exactly for what they are) to buy their cigarettes, I was asked what candy bar I wanted brought back. I went through a Twix phase, then foundered on Nestle Crunch, and for a long time, gorged on Whatchamacallits. In high school, I ate my weight (which, thankfully, was not much) in Snickers bars. Whenever I saw an advertisement for a new candy (anybody remember Royals?), I would have to give that a try. As long as I got some form of chocolate every day, I was pretty easy to please.

As an adult, I have tried to break this habit. Especially the last few years when I have finally begun fighting the battle of the bulge. For a while, I tried to appease my daily craving with those little 100-calorie cookie packs, or with low-fat and diet bars, or with a Slim Fast shake. Life is too short for crappy chocolate, though, and the deal I have finally been able to live with is that as long as I can make myself get to the gym at least twice in any given week, than I reward myself by bringing in a chocolate bar of some sort to nosh on during my mid-morning Coke break. This is probably the main reason why I can't lose the last 5 pounds that separates me from my pre-Ainsley weight, but that's something I think I can live with.

With all the talk about the health benfits of dark chocolate, particularly the chocolate that is at least 60% cacao, I have been branching out and trying the darker, more serious stuff. I think I've converted; milk chocolate is almost too sweet for me now, and even my M&Ms have gone dark. But this morning I stumbled across a dark (and therefore healthy, right?) treat that I have to share with my readers.

On sale at Kroger's this week were all varieties of "Cacao Reserve" bars by everyone's favorite American chocolatier, Hershey's. I got one of each, and wasn't terribly impressed with the other one I tried , a milky bar with only 35% cacao. Today's rocks my socks, though. It's the 65% cacao bar with cacao nibs. And oh my God, the nibs.

I thought it might be too much. But it's kinda like a Nestle Crunch's dark and obscenely wealthy evil twin. Except instead of the crispiness coming from rice, it's coming from little chopped up cacao beans. The chocolate itself is smooth as velvet, then you get this little crunch from even richer, very finely-crushed nuggets of the pure stuff...excuse me while I wipe the drool off my laptop.

The downside? While rationing the rather large bar into segments so I didn't go over the recommended 3-block serving (the label on the back states, "Like most indulgent treats, Cacao Reserve by Hershey's should be enjoyed in moderation"--you mean I shouldn't eat the whole bar to get double the health benefits?) I sent cacao nibs flying everywhere, including on my fairly new Gap khakis, where they melted into little dark-brown blobs.

Really, though, a small price to pay for a few minutes in chocolate heaven.

The Schoolhouse Rocked

Yesterday afternoon we caught a matinee of the kid's school's fall musical, Schoolhouse Rock Live! Jr. Imagine a bunch of little squirts singing your favorite edu-ma-cational shorts from all those Saturday morning cartoons you used to watch as a kid. Awwwwww. Yeah, it was that cute.

Each class took part in one number, and the kindergartners' song was that little ditty about Manifest Destiny called "Elbow Room." I had been hearing Ainsley sing it at least half-a-dozen times each day this week, plus she wanted to watch that song on our Schoolhouse Rock DVD every day this weekend, so I thought I was pretty tired of hearing it. Talk about something that will get stuck in your head. Sing it with me now!

Elbow room, elbow room!
Gotta gotta get us some elbow room.
It's the west or bust
In God we trust
There's a new land out there!

But seeing the kid do it with the other little kindergarten baby-faces, and watching them do little choreographed moves for all the verses (and there are quite a few of them) I got such a case of the cutesy-gigglies that I had to wipe a tear or two from my eyes. It was worth missing my Sunday afternoon nap for.

The other classes were terribly precious, too, especially the 1st-graders, who did "Unpack Your Adjectives." The song itself was adorable (they all had little visors and backpacks and ran from a huge-but-not-remotely-frightening plush bear!), but what really cracked me up was how they all huddled into one side of the stage at the beginning, and when a backstage mom got their attention and motioned for them to spread and for some to go the other side, they acted like lemmings and all went and huddled on the opposite side. Remind me never to volunteer to be a backstage mom; it seemed too much like herding cats.

We were worried that Ainsley's shyness would cause her to stand frozen on stage with her fingers in her mouth like she did at our church's vacation bible school final show last summer, but the little thing did quite well and sang most of the time and did her choreography with flair. She has said she wants to do this kind of thing again. And is talking about wanting to take dance lessons. A diva is born!

Which is fine with me. Any Sunday afternoon that I can spend watching munchkins sing, dance, and mess up their stage directions to humorous effect is a good Sunday afternoon, indeed.

All I Want for Christmas

We are apparently skipping Thanksgiving this year. Oh, I know the stores always rush the season and throw the red and green decorations on the shelves as soon as they get rid of the orange and black. But this year, I am already seeing yuletide commercials, news stories about in-demand toys, and at least one retailer has sent me a circular stating that their "biggest sale of the year" will come not on the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving, but 2 weeks before. It's stressing me out, y'all. I feel like I should have started my shopping already, but I haven't even decided which side I will bring to the two T-day turkey dinners we attend (green beans, corn casserole, or sweet potato bake?)

When EW.com, the kings of snark, made this week's Pop Watch Confessional about Christmas pop songs, I knew the season had officially (and prematurely) begun. As I sat reading everyone's faves at lunch yesterday, and got Bono's oh-so-sexy voice stuck in my head ("Baby please come home..." I'm on my way, Bono!) I started thinking about what I was going to get everyone for Christmas. Which led to thoughts of what I want for Christmas. 'Tis the season to be selfish, after all.

So, in case you were wondering what to get the Crankmeister for Christmas (or, the solstice, if you no longer respect my validity as a Christian after my Belief-O-Matic experience), here's a little wish list for you. To make it easier for you, I have included links so you can shop online (I'm here to make your life easier!) Perhaps on this list you will find a little gem for yourself, too. Get in the spirit!

1. Radio-controlled tarantula Crawls like a real spider! Scurries across any flat surface!
This is the gift to give me if you don't like me very much, or if my political and religious posts have offended you in some way. You really want to surprise me this Christmas? Unwrap this, put batteries in, and remote it across my kitchen floor while I'm starting brunch Christmas morning. The look on my face will be priceless! Mostly because it will be the last look my face ever has.

2. T-shirt from Northern Sun referencing my true nature
Reads "I Haven't Been the Same Since That House Fell On My Sister!" Would also be a good gift for my own sister. It works both ways. Really, there's a lot from that particular store that would suit me; this bumper sticker cracks me up, too.

3. Latawnya, The Naughty Horse, Learns to Say "No" to Drugs. An epic tale of what happens when horses and drugs mix. It may be hard to find, but it would be a gift that keeps on giving, as I would certainly share it with Ainsley. And with all my friends, who I would invite over for beverages as we share this well-written and heart-warming tale. (By the way, if you need a laugh today, spend a few minutes looking at the customer reviews for this book. You won't be disappointed.)

4. Star Wars Luke Skywalker Lightsaber
Because I am, at heart, a huge geek.

5. A case of Mexican Coke
Because we addicts know that the Mexican stuff is the finest.

What are you waiting for? Credit cards out, people!

Seriously, though, all I really want for Christmas is world peace.

My Poor Little Sick Kid

The kid is sick. AGAIN.

This is illness number 3 for us in a little over a month. She's worn out and we're worn out.

She always gets a cold the week after Halloween. I don't know what it is; we dress her warmly, don't let her stay out the entire 2 hours of tricking and treating allotted in our city, and don't let her eat her weight in candy. But it never fails.

It was no huge shock, then, when the sniffles started over the weekend. I thought things were fine, though, until she had a meltdown over her Honeycombs this morning. She suddenly burst into real, heart-wrenching tears and, when we asked her what in the world was wrong, looked at us with her big doe eyes and said, "I can't breathe through my nose and I feel bad and I don't want to go to school and that makes me sad." Good Lord. No way could I make her go to school after that. I'm not made of stone.

No way could I take a day off work today, either (I had to play the role of Technology Wench for a slew of guest speakers today), so we would have been stuck had Mamaw not come to the rescue. The woman is a saint.

Hopefully the tears and the snot will be dried up by tomorrow and we can get her back to school. As much as I believe kids should stay home when they're sick, it kills me to keep her at home because of the unbelievable amount of make-up work she will have to do. We'll spend all weekend filling in letter-writing practice sheets, matching shapes, sorting things by color, and, or course, coloring. Add to that the "Family Turkey Project" we already had for homework this weekend (we, as a family, have to "adopt" a paper turkey and decorate him and name him and enter him into a contest against the other kindergarten families, most of whom I wager will care a lot more about this assignment than I currently do.) And the little darling gets to do a class act in her school's presentation of School House Rock Jr. on Sunday.

If it weren't for the annual Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Wines and Beers of the World festival Saturday, I think I, too, would be falling apart over my breakfast cereal.

Classroom Helper

I spent part of my day off yesterday being a "room mother" at the kid's school.

Before you think I did this because I am such a caring, philanthropic soul, remember that Ainsley's school asks (though is it really asking if they charge us $100 at the end of the year if we don't do it?) that each school family contribute a total of 20 hours of volunteering per year at the school. That's why Ains and I each took a shift at the pit of hell otherwise known as the church festival, and why I made a huge pan of not-from-the-box brownies for the school Halloween party; I'm in it for the hours. And every time I have a day off school that Ainsley doesn't, instead of falling asleep on the couch with chocolate melting in my lap and The Price is Right blaring on the TV, I'll be helping out in a room full of 5-year-olds.

It wasn't so bad. The last part of my sentence involved working the "sweet shop", in which the munchkins trade in the pennies they have earned for good behavior for nickels and the nickels for small boxes of Nerds. I gave each kid the option, as the teacher asked me to, of holding on to their nickels for bigger prizes to come at future sweet shops. A very few did this; most, including my own daughter, acted like those Nerds were little boxes of gold. I reminded Ains that we had a couple hundred of those same boxes of Nerds at home, left over from trick-or-treat. Heaven forbid she walk out of the sweet shop empty-handed, though, so she traded in her nickels for more pure-sugar-and-fake-strawberry-flavor goodness.

The differences in maturity among the kids was amazing. Some of the kids looked like babies; you could just fold them up and put 'em in your pocket. Others, mostly the boys, looked like they were just days away from needing to shave and from getting driver's licenses. I know that the big thing now is to hold boys with late birthdays back a year to allow them to be more mature when they get to kindergarten, and I'm not knocking it (especially with all the trouble Ainsley had adjusting herself that first month, being one of the youngest kids), but it's weird to see these older boys like Gandalf among the hobbits.

I loved being able to put faces with the names from all the big hairy tales Ainsley comes home with. When I met some of these kids, I would think, "Oh, so you're the one who pushed my kid on the playground," or "You're the one who was first in the class to get sent to the principal's office." Surprisingly, they all seemed very well-behaved and polite to me.

Until later last night. During bath time, Ainsley informed me that "George" (name changed to protect the guilty) had told the class he thought I was ugly. Wow. That'll do wonders for your self-esteem. I mean, I know I wasn't wearing my makeup or anything, but dang. That's harsh coming from a 5-year-old.

"But 'Meredith' said she likes your hair," Ainsley said, apologetically.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

Ainsley thought for a moment. "No. You're pretty when you wear earrings."

It will be Christmas before I have another opportunity to work in her classroom, and that's a good thing. My ego needs some time to recover.

And I'll be sure to wear earrings.

You've Got My Vote. Now Leave Me Alone.

I hate this time of year.

For one thing, we just moved the clocks back so it's dark by 6:00. I like gaining the extra hour and all, but my tail will be dragging all week because my body will think it's really an hour later. Grr.

I could deal with my Circadian rhythms being out of sync with the clock if my phone weren't ringing off the hook with recorded messages from our wonderful candidates for governor telling me how their values best represent Kentucky and the other guy is really Satan in disguise and eats small children in his free time and blah blah blah. I really wish these weren't recorded messages because I've had several snarky comments on the tip of my tongue as I've heard their campaigning this week.

What's frustrating is that the guy I'm by far getting the most calls from is the guy I plan on voting for. I really wish there was a real person on the other end so I could say, "Look, I take voting seriously, and I will be at the polls tomorrow, rain or shine, and I'm voting for your guy, unless you keep calling me and disturbing my dinner and my Sunday nap time, so effing quit calling me. Paid for by the Cranky for Less Phone Ringing Campaign Fund 2007."

Hubby is registered in the opposite political party that I am (though I think I have converted him to the dark side...bwahahaha), so we get hit pretty hard by both sides the week before Election Day. Occasionally we do get a real live person on the other end, or a visit from a campaigner to our front door, and I live for these enounters. Especially during bitter election years (and by bitter, I mean my guy isn't doing so hot in the polls). I am so full of sour grapes and vitriol that if the person I am talking to is telling me I should vote for that other party, I very politely (well, not really) tell that person that I am a fervent, card-carrying, Godless supporter of his enemy party and that I plan on hitting that beautiful little "straight ticket" button in the booth (even though I rarely do this) and therefore no, he/she cannot count on my vote in Tuesday's election, thank you very much. I love how quickly I can get someone off the phone or off my porch with that rant. Though Jason has gotten where he intercepts people who visit in person. You would think I've embarrassed him or something.

Despite how annoyed I am getting, though, I will drop off Ainsley off at school tomorrow morning and go do my civic duty and cast my vote for the candidate of my choice (and, as usual, feel that I am really voting for the lesser of two evils rather than for a guy or gal who I think will really make a difference). We always have election day off school, and I choose to do that, and sometimes wait in long lines surrounded by people who I know will cancel out my vote a hundred times over, rather than just come home and play Wii and nap because I appreciate my right to vote even if I resent the candidates' right to call my house 4 times a day the week before the election.

I encourage you to exercise your right to vote, too. No matter how bitter you yourself may be over what the candidates have said, or haven't said, or the phoniness of it all, get out and vote tomorrow. No matter your party, no matter your choices. Cancel me out. Write in your neighbor. Just pull that lever. And know that no matter the outcome, after tomorrow, you're not going to get any more political phone calls or have to watch any more ridiculous TV ads.

Until the presidential election next year.

The Belief-O-Matic 2007: The Best Way to Find Out If You Indeed Are Going to Hell in a Neo-Pagan Handbasket

My world has been well and thoroughly rocked.

A friend of mine stopped down to the library Monday and told me I had to take this online religion quiz she had just taken, and that she found her own results to be so interesting she wanted someone else to take it so she could talk about it. Well, this was right up my spiritual alley; I love to explore my own religious beliefs, and am open to a lot of different religious ideas and points of view, so I spent part of my lunch that day heading over to the Belief-O-Matic to see what church this little converted Catholic girl really belongs to.

My friend had as her number one match "Orthodox Quaker", which shook her a little bit as she feels like she's a pretty good fit at her Methodist church. At least her results were in the Christian circle, though. Now, I am the first to admit that I am probably not a true Catholic. I have had many crises of faith in my life; a Philosophy of Religion class I took my freshman yeare at Centre pretty much convinced me there was no God, and it took me years of soul-searching to come back into the Christian fold. When I did return, I converted to the Catholic faith, which my sister had converted to years before, and which my husband was raised in (though he seldom practices), and I felt good about that choice. I know that my true religious and moral beliefs are a little granola and a little too liberal for the Catholic church, but I love the Catholic sacraments and rituals; I truly feel at one with God after mass, and I am often moved to tears as we remember the crucifixion each Sunday. So I wasn't quite ready for the results I got back Monday.

According to the Belief O Matic, I am a 100% match for...wait for it...Neo-Pagan! What exactly is a Neo-Pagan, you ask? I don't really know! And neither do they, according to the links attached to the results page. They're kind of open to everything. But they sure as heck ain't Christian.

I initially laughed at the results. Me, a Neo-Pagan! Hilarious! Guess I'll have to quit shaving my armpits and drag out my Birkenstocks and peasant skirts and start talking about the Earth Mother. But as I started trying to learn more about this faith, and about some of the others in my top 5, I realized that I do share an awful lot of similarities in what I truly believe and what the pagans believe...and Reformed Judaism...and Universal Unitarianism...and the liberal Quakers. I even found myself shaking my head in agreement a little with the Ba' hai page. (Though I have a hard time trying to spell it.) Any type of recognizable, traditional Christian faith was way down on my list, and my Roman Catholic brethren were way down at my lowest match. Holy crap.

I asked Jason to take the quiz that night, and by the time I had come back from running (I needed a night-time jog to try to clear my head of the thought that I was going to hell) he had taken it and told me he was really an Orthodox Jew. Neo-Pagan was nowhere in his top 5, though we did share an awful lot of our top ten. And like me, traditional Christian faiths were not ranked very highly. At least I'll have company in hell. (Just kidding! None of our top faiths believe in hell!)

I let myself get so worked up over this that I re-took the quiz. Talking to Jason and to my friends who have taken the quiz, I realized I really didn't read some of the questions right. To my relief, my results the second time were more what I expected. "Liberal Quaker" was my top choice this time, and reading about them, I think that's a fairly accurate assessment. And given that the friend that recommended this to me was labelled an "Orthodox Quaker", it absolutely makes sense to me that I would be the far-left sister to her beliefs. Though reading about both, I have a hard deciding whether or not you can say either is an exclusively Christian faith. Reformed Judaism was also still high for me (number 2), and I welcomed the addition of "Mainline to Liberal Protestant" to the top 10. But that darned Neo-Pagan was still my 3rd highest match. Roman Catholic was still way down in the bottom 5.

I always knew that I am accepting of other faiths, and I've never believed that Christians have all the right answers. Who am I to say that because you're Jewish, or Muslim, or Hindu, and live your life trying to be a good person in accordance with the guidelines your faith have given you, that you're not going to enjoy a peaceful afterlife in the presence of the deity you worship? I can't (unless you murder innocents in the name of your God, in which case I think there just might be a hell for you. Just sayin'.) The God I believe in doesn't work that way. But I have always felt like Christianity, the path I choose, was a pretty good fit. Now I'm not so sure. I feel another crisis coming on.

Take the quiz and come back here. Does it label you pretty accurately? Any surprises? And if you're so inclined, swing by the Cranky house someday to discuss over a little wine. That really is the best way to tackle the subject, you know. And maybe that's why I enjoy the Catholic faith so much.