Chick-O-What?

Many of you know that I no longer eat chocolate, which is a pity, I know. Believe me, no one would love to eat it more than I do, but it would be BAD NEWS of the very, very bad variety if I did, so I don't. Why? You very understandably ask. Well, that's an exceedingly long story that I usually boil down to the simple phrase, "I have a chronic pain condition that I keep under control with diet." Most of the time, people (read: men) infer that the mysterious condition of which I speak is of the dreaded female variety and ... voila! end. of. story. It has been over ten years since my last taste of chocolate and actually, if I were forced to confess, it hasn't been too bad. Granted, I do sometimes ask TLS if I can smell (really! just smell!) the fantastically chocolatey thing he's eating. And, come to think of it, I did have dreams right after I went on zero chocolate lock-down where I was cramming an entire slice of chocolate cake into my mouth. That being said, though, probably the hardest thing has been to find candy or dessert options that don't have chocolate in them. (This is hardly a a tragedy of epic proportions, I realize. Just trying to give a little background. Really.)

One of the non-chocolate candies that I have recently re-discovered is the humble Chick-O-Stick. It's made in (relatively) nearby Lufkin, Texas -- a fact I didn't realize until I went looking for a link for this post -- and it warms the little Texan cockles of my heart to know that I'm supporting a local business. For those of you who don't follow the link above, a Chick-O-Stick is basically a cylindrical Butterfinger ... only better. I hadn't had one in years (literally years since I think it was during that far-off land of junior high the last time I ate one) and bought one on a whim several months ago. "Ooh!" I thought to myself, "I really like this candy," and mentioned it to TLS. Flash forward to a month or so ago when he was headed to the local convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out. He asked if I wanted anything and I was non-committal so he promised to bring me back a surprise (or a "sussie" if you live at our house). You guessed it, he came back with a handful of Chick-O-Stick (There will be no judging; they are only about half an inch in diameter and about three inches long so it wasn't like I was eating four or five of those king sized candy bars.) and an addiction was born. When I get more than one I swear that I'm only going to eat one and save the rest for later--make them last--and then dang if I don't eat them all within the first 30 minutes. I cannot tell a lie; I am truly weak.

Earlier this week after stopping at the convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out, TLS came out with another handful and as I munched my way through them before we could even get home, I had this brilliant thought, "I bet TLS buys me the world's largest Chick-O-Stick for my 40th birthday." (A birthday that is still eleven months off, I must remind everyone. I am but a mere spring chicken.) I turned and shared this momentous idea with him and watched his eyes almost bug out of his head. Apparently, he had been having the exact same thought. Freaky, I know. I think it is official. We are now sharing a single warped brain. Go figure.