Today my husband returned from a trip to the Garden State, returning with (in addition to his handsome mug ) some much-needed supplies we'd been after for a while. I'm not out to make you jealous or anything, but consider our hatches totally battened down in the wool socks, full-body Carhartts, and trail mix department.

I felt like Ma Ingalls, watching him unpack his wares from the wagon Nissan Maxima. It helped that he'd grown a beard. Seriously, though, he blew in on the tail of this ferocious wind storm the Weather Channel's been referring to as Fall Fury 2010, and I am--truly--just happy he's not out there on the road trying to play Bejeweled and drive at the same time in this weather. Now there's something Pa never had to worry about on his way to Walnut Grove: technology. They just put some hot yams in their pockets and went to town. Can't you just picture Karen Grassle asking Charles for just a bit of lard and maybe some sugar if there's enough money left over? Man, I loved that show. When I was a little girl, I would have given anything to be in Miss Beadle's class, even if it meant getting stranded in a blizzard, stuck in a cave, or having to deal with that shrew Nellie.

Speaking of sugar and lard, how about this? There's something for everyone here-M&M's, Ghiradelli, Lindt, and my favorite Garoto BonBons from Brazil.

 Yes, I've married a man who likes to display the chocolate. There I was, standing on the window-seat, looking for a book I'm pretty sure I loaned out and will never see again, when I spotted him up to his usual tricks.

"Why are you flaunting our chocolate like that? Put it away before someone gets hurt!"

"It makes me feel human", he said. Which, incidentally, is about to become my new excuse for EVERYTHING. 

"You know what makes me feel human?" I said. "Taking a long, hot shower...crying my eyes out, then eating a bunch of chocolate in a pitch-black closet." I didn't think it was necessary to mention hiding the wrappers in my sock drawer.

He sighed like a man who's just been to hell (New Jersey)* and back. "Babe, it's a statement." (holding the assortment like a communion loaf) "It says, these people are so organized, so together, that they have time to put their candy in a decorative bowl.

"Hmmm. I was thinking it said something more along the lines of: these people are so insane, that when they wake up tomorrow morning to find their children, who were supposed to be watching Arthur, but are instead huddled around a chocolate crack pipe....they shouldn't be surprised."

Thus, we decided, for the sake of said children, to use some other means to measure our level of "togetherness".  Something like... not trying to unlock one's car with the TV remote. I mean, just as an example.


* Disclaimer: I really do love New Jersey. Why? Well, for starters, my in-laws...but mostly for the diners. To me, nothing says "together" like eating all one's meals at a diner.