Goodbye Week. Hello Weekend. Lessons Learned: Take 70.

Outside of Caribou Coffee

Goodbye parent coffee and learning tid-bits of what to expect in Middle School next year - YIKES!
Goodbye $700 to remove 2 pine trees in the backyard: victims of Hurricane Sandy.
Goodbye beautiful letter my son wrote to God; would love to have shared it with you but somethings are meant to be just between him and The Big Guy.
Goodbye lingering Halloween candy that, unfortunately,  finds its way onto the dessert menu in my home every night.
Goodbye early planning stages of the Christmas dinner menu - I'm thinking Beef Wellington.

Hello rising anticipation of my Shari's Berries order - YUM!
Hello escalating excitement of my most favorite holiday of the year - Thanksgiving.
Hello working diligently on our Christmas wish lists and hoping for the best this year.
Hello homework weekend for kiddo and working weekend for me - but it's all good.
Hello to really trying hard to get to my most dreaded chore: ironing.

Because I was sick last Friday I feel I owe you a really deeply thought-out Lesson Learned for this week, but something happened that I must share with you. Something so horrific, so unbelievable, my gag-reflux is starting up again as I type. Consider this a PSA (public service announcement) to all you Hostess-product loving compatriots. Let me take a breather. OK, I'm ready to continue on with my story.

I've always placed Twinkies and Ho-Ho's in the same category as cockroaches - the only things to survive a nuclear war. I thought the "freshly-baked" goods had so many preservatives, they could last practically forever. I thought the "Best by:" stamp was merely a formality. I had a box of half-eaten Ho-Ho's in the basement pantry for quite some time; Best By: September 2012. Not so bad. There were exactly 3 Ho-Ho's left and I brought them up after dinner: 1. to get rid of them, 2. to break the cycle of Halloween candy after dinner (as if this choice was a big improvement).

I tossed a pristine, white-wrapped Ho-Ho to Super Hubby, who declined by not catching it, and to kiddo, leaving mine next to him at the table. I poured the milk, sat down, unwrapped my devil's-food goodness, bit in, and immediately ran to the sink. Something just wasn't right. I spit out the contents of my mouth and was trying to figure out what that awful taste was. It was like somebody had injected petroleum into the white filling and dipped it into a tinny vat of toxic waste. I asked my son if he had opened his, yet. He did and, the way he had opened his, the coated chocolate fell off and exposed the cake part of the Ho-Ho. He smelled it and verified that something was wrong. It wasn't until he commented that his cake part had all this green fuzzy stuff all over it that I realized the Ho-Ho's had GONE BAD! Was this possible? Could a Ho-Ho go rogue? It's not like they were years old, just a few months.

I've got a box of Twinkies downstairs that has occupied space on the shelf for years. I'm scared, very scared. That box will just be tossed. I dare not open the contents for fear my home becomes marked with Do Not Cross tape and Danger: Toxic Area signs.

Maybe Ho-Ho's are a nuclear war staple. I can make my own penicillin and start a black market after Armageddon, trading for sticks and stones and have the cave of my dreams. 
 

Have a great, gag-free weekend!