Four Cherry Cordials, A Welcome Treat

I’ve had these all my life.

At least as long as I can remember.

These are the G Rated version of a treat that I discovered probably before I could walk well.  Always having a sweet tooth, I would gravitate toward them and anything else that tasted well.

I’d pop one in my mouth, and if I was patient, allow the chocolate shell to melt until the cherry sugar syrup would run out onto my tongue.  Then I’d have a third treat as the cherry waited behind for my molar to pop it open like a sweet balloon.

My sister discovered that I liked those things and when we realized that tradition said we should be giving gifts on holidays and birthdays, a box of these would show up.

A welcome treat.

Once, and only once, I found the Real Version of these.   They’d have an alcoholic brandy in them, most likely Kirschwasser, a German Cherry Cordial.  I remember those being “amazing” but decidedly hard to come by.  New Jersey, where my sister and I grew up, most likely had regulated them to being frightfully scarce and in “all my years” I’ve only ever seen them twice.

It has been a while since the Mastodons roamed free in the North Eastern United States, and I suspect that they ate most of the Alcoholic Cherry Cordials to keep them out of my own hands.  I guess they like Kirschwasser as well.

It’s an open secret between my sister and I that I will receive these in a “Care Package From Home”.

I see them here at the supermarket and it Isn’t Quite The Same.  Of course we could just toss one in the cart, but it just hasn’t felt right to do so.  While I truly enjoy these overly sugary treats, it wouldn’t have quite the same feeling since my dear sister didn’t toss them in a box, cart them to the Cherry Hill, New Jersey Post Office, stand in line, and post them to me here in South Florida.

Luckily those events are in the cooler parts of the year.  Shipping chocolate to Florida via the US Postal Service guarantees that they will arrive partially melted and most likely “deformed”.

But, Hey!  They Eat Well, Right?

I had gotten a welcome Care Package back around the holidays and set a few of these aside in a very cool part of the refrigerator.  Not so much to hide them from anyone else in the house, I did it to hide them from myself.  I wanted a small treat to remember a well thought and welcome present from someone dear to me, far away.

Plus they taste damn good.

POP! All gone!

Oh and frozen?  They’re amazing too!

A Woman Goes For A Facelift

When I was a wee brat, my sister had quite a few dolls.  Dolls everywhere, on shelves, in the corners, on the beds, in the closets in her bedroom.

Right, Pat?

And this was something of a golden era of dolls.  They all had their gimmicks.  Some were super tall, others had the ability to walk, there was even one you could give a hair cut by turning a knob in the back of her head.

To this day, I refer to “Turning the Knob on the Back of Your Head” as getting a hair cut.

Seeing that I have been giving myself haircuts since 2003, I know that knob well.

My British audience would most likely be having a quiet giggle about how I turn my own knob.

My American audience will have to understand that means just what rudeness it sounds like.

At any rate, the joke today… it is on the same vein.   I present “A Woman Goes For A Facelift”.

A woman in her 40’s went to a plastic surgeon for a face-lift. The surgeon told her about a new procedure called “The Knob,” where a small knob is placed on the back of a woman’s head and can be turned to tighten up her skin to produce the effect of a brand new face lift.

Of course, the woman wanted “The Knob.” Over the course of the years, the woman tightened the knob and the effects were wonderful. The woman remained young looking and vibrant.

After fifteen years, the woman returned to the surgeon with two problems. “All of these years, everything has been working just fine. I’ve had to turn the knob many times and I’ve always loved the results. But now I’ve developed two annoying problems: “First, I have these terrible bags under my eyes and the knob won’t get rid of them.”

The doctor looked at her closely and said, “Those aren’t bags, those are your breasts.”

She sighed and said, “Well, I guess there’s no point in asking about the goatee….”