Around our home we can tell when the Christmas season has kicked in. It doesn't have anything to do with the Christmas music piped through the stores, or all the Salvation Army bell-ringers, or any of the other obvious signs; it's the day someone brings out a box of chocolate covered cherries. When we were growing up, and I think me and twin were about 9 years old, everyone still having a stocking hanging up for Santa to fill, Jolly Old St. Nick gave everyone a box of chocolate covered cherries. Well, that was nice, I loved chocolate covered cherries. However, they must have had them on clearance for like a nickel a box, because every time my mother said "there's a few more presents Santa forgot to put out" ,which was every year, because she'd buy stuff and forget about it til the kidlings were ripping wrapping paper off their gifts and out would come some little something wrapped in a wadded up,wrinkled old paper bag. But that year, what was she thinking, giving a house full of children all that candy,before church, because each of us...6 kids and 2 adults...got half a dozen boxes of chocolate covered cherries. Each. Did I say each? Oh my God, after the second time we EACH got a box, and had no rational adult to tell us to STOP EATING THE CANDY,and we weren't able to decide that on our own, we began groaning and muttering "oh-no-chocolate-covered-cherries". The boxes still kept coming! And don't forget, there's TWELVE days of Christmas, so how many boxes of O-N-C-C-C'S did we EACH wind up with? We couldn't eat them for a few years after that, but slowly, years and years later, a box would begin to show up and we still call them oh-no-chocolate-covered-cherries.
Twin brought a box of them over Friday. She didn't eat any. I ate one. It's Christmas Time.
*WARNING TO MY SISTERS AND BROTHER: DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY AT THE