Apple Time!

Remember these?

I'm thinking ahead for Christmas this year, and hope some of you are too. I'm going to make these oh-so-good apples again this year, and will start taking orders right away. Here's what you need to know:

They will be $8.00 each.

I will need payment two weeks before the date you want them.

The last pick-up/drop off date will be December 16th.

I'm not set up for long distance delivery, so I'm afraid we're limited to Utah, within reasonable driving distance of my house.

There's still a choice between dark or milk chocolate, just specify how many of which when you order. I did a couple with white chocolate last year for some friends who don't love chocolate of the brown variety, and they were really happy with them, so I can do that too.

I tested a few apples last year, trying one after a week in the fridge, another after 2 weeks, another after 3 weeks, (I didn't test any longer than that) and after 3 weeks in the fridge, they are just as good. None had ever lasted longer than a week at our house before that, because everyone had devoured them, so I wanted to see how they held up. Turns out, pretty darn well.

Email or call me to order, if you don't have any of my info, leave me a message here or on Facebook, and I'll get it to you.

After such a great response last year (I sold 234 in the end), this year some of the money will go toward Christmas for my family, and some will go toward helping somebody else have a better Christmas, like so many of you helped us have last year. We want to pay it forward. :)

"Ooo-ooo" Went The Wind

Does anyone else take issue with the words "Gourmet" and "Candy Corn" being used together? Gourmet high fructose corn syrup, gourmet artificial flavour and gourmet artificial colour. Mmmm.

When I think gourmet, I think of something so good, so decadent, that you kind of want to sneak into a closet to eat it, away from anyone who might try to make you share. The vast majority of Halloween candy does not fall into that category. Most of it is not even good.

My best years of trick-or-treating were between the ages of 12 and 17. That's right, I said 17. It's the only time my being short has been an advantage. Well then and for installing car seats. Luckily for me, my best friend during my teen years was also short, and we made the most of it. She and I would meet up at my house (she lived on a farm sort of in the boonies, so my neighbourhood was the more "mother-load-of-candy friendly" of the two), and decide what the quotas would be for that year. We'd determine how many of what kinds of candy we would acquire before calling it quits for the night. Usually near the top of the list were Kit Kats, with other kinds of candy coming and going from year to year, depending on our mood.

After a while, we got really good at singling out those houses that had "good" candy, and those that would always give out lousy stuff like those nasty beige/grey chewy things that you only hand out if you don't really like children. What were those things anyway? It wasn't toffee, or taffy, and had no distinctive flavour... just sticky, tooth decaying nothingness.

The problem was, not every house would give both of us the same candy, so a mini (friendly) competition would start between us to see who could hit their targets first. The night was always full of laughter, like the time my moustache fell off (I was an Arab Sheik, ok?) in a yard covered in knee-deep leaves. We got down on hands and knees, and searched for about 10 minutes before my friend declared, "We need to say a prayer." I launched into a massive laughing protest about how I was not praying over a moustache.

After we said "Amen", I put my hand down on the ground to balance myself to stand up, and there was my moustache. We were in tears. Not the kind you're usually in after an answered prayer.

But then there was another tradition we had, that wasn't just about fun. The owner of the company where my dad worked, and his wife lived on the street behind us. They were really nice people who for years let us come and swim in their pool in the summers. Most kids would run up, get their candy and run off. When we came to the door, we got invited inside. The lady of the house had MS, and couldn't come see the kids all dressed up. So we'd go in and say hello, and chat for a bit, let her ooo and ah over our costumes and it was one of the best parts of trick-or-treating for us.

Come to think of it, almost none of my best memories of Halloween had anything to do with the actual candy, (except for the favourite chocolate bars of 2 of my grandparents, which I would mail to them some years). Don't get me wrong, I was not above hiding and hoarding my candy after I got home, but that was just secondary to all the other stuff.

Maybe that's why Halloween candy mostly stinks, and no one cares. Gourmet Candy Corn. Please.

Who Are You?

Sometimes I wholeheartedly agree with one exasperated ancestor's sentiment: "This is the stupidest world I've ever lived on.". I've been in a sort of tornado of emotion and thought lately. Between the passing of my cousin (and not being able to attend her funeral due to ongoing passport issues), a bad patch of seizures for my boy, and some waves of controversy affecting people I care about, sadness, contention, worry, and frustration have all been wildly swirling around. I could very easily lock myself away and just hope for the clouds to pass.

But that's not me.

For those who don't share my faith, we believe that we were spirits who lived with God before we came here to earth. We believe that those spirits joined with bodies when we were born, and though we don't remember that time, while here on earth, we carry with us many of the traits and relationships that we had there. It is in most cases not until we pass on to the next life that we get to really "see" everybody again. Who they are, who they are to us, each person in their spirit form, no more weighted down by illness, age, hardship, deformity, or any other earthly care.

There were kids from 80+ countries in my high school, and most of my friends had either a different skin colour from me, or an accent of some sort. It wasn't until I left there and moved to a much more, um, homogenous area that I was even struck by that fact. I saw beautiful friends, not shades of skin. I heard laughter, comfort, and lively discussion, not accents. You can spot kindness or goodness just by looking at someone's face, and not even see what they look like. You know what I'm talking about. Or think of people that have grown more beautiful to you as you've gotten to know them, when really their physical form hasn't changed a bit. I think, in part, that's recognizing that heavenly spirit that's in there.

Oftentimes I am tempted to (and do) just react to hard situations, usually poorly, loudly, or sarcastically. But I have found that if I am still, if I wait... God will speak to me, and show me a little something that will change me, and my reaction. Frequently this happens in a split second. A flash of somebody's true intent, their innate goodness, the love that others have, or even God has, for them. In other words, the truth about who they are. Not how they're acting, not what they're saying, not what they look like, but who that spirit is that was put on this earth, disguised by flesh and bones, life, and gravity.

And then things change.

I want to respond with love. I want to understand more than be understood. I want to teach or exchange thoughts, not lecture. Compassion and generosity flow.

You never know who you're really dealing with. From your children to a crabby customer service person, anyone could be the grandest, most amazing spirit you'll meet. They should be treated that way. I pray I will be blessed to see people as they really are, much more clearly and frequently, especially when things get tough.

As it said on a little poster I had as kid, "God don't make no junk".

Amen.