When it comes to chocolate I have no shame.
I’ll buy a chocolate bar while shopping for groceries, then show up at the checkout stand with just a wrapper. I grabbed a handful of chocolate right in front of my personal trainer. I get a box of candy for Mother’s Day and refuse to share —even with my loved ones who gave it to me. I’m capable of inhaling a family size bag of Hershey’s kisses within 24 hours. I don’t take one piece of chocolate from the jar at the cleaners—I scoop out a fistful. I’ll ask for a bite of someone’s dessert and then polish off the whole thing. ( I wrote about that in one of the first pieces I ever wrote on this blog; still one of my faves.)
Yes I’m hopeless; and it takes a lot for anything regarding chooclate to embarrass me.
But now it’s happened.
I just wrote about the story of the chocolate telegram that my ex-husband kept for 35 years—and then re-discovering the store where I bought it.
I wrote it for fun, not asking or expecting anything; it was a sweet story. I didn’t expect the story would get even sweeter until I read my husband’s comment on my post.
V had read my post, then called K’s chocolatier in Beverly Hills to surprise me with a telegram—one that I actually COULD eat. And he told the owner the story behind his order.
Sadly for chocoholics, it turns out they can’t ship the telegrams. But now the story has a third ending—still a sweet one.
This box of goodies from K Chocolatier arrived today.
So here’s the shameful part.
I’ve never been one of those bloggers who makes a huge effort to encourage or drum up comments. But I really appreciate people who do comment; and I try to answer every one of them.
However, after four years of blogging, lately I’ve gotten a little
Just now my husband pointed out that the chocolate arrived even before I had answered his comment–or any of the others.
That IS embarrassing; it stopped me in my tracks.
But it still didn’t stop me from eating the chocolate before I answer the comments.