Confession

I am a grown woman, and I am currently hiding candy bars from my own children.

When I was a kid, my favorite candy bar was the Marathon Bar, a long, braided piece of chewy caramel covered in chocolate. No nougat nonsense. No nuts. Just caramelly, chocolatey goodness. I'd walk to the Plaid Pantry and buy one for a quarter, and then savor it slowly the whole way home. And then, at some point during my youth, Marathon Bars disappeared. Alas.

About two years ago, though, I discovered with much joy that Cadbury's makes a Marathon clone called the Curly Wurly. The problem is that they don't sell them in the United States, so you have to order them from companies that import candies or British foods. And during the warm months (which is a good part of the year here in the San Joaquin Valley) you can't order them at all, or else all you'd get would be a melted gooey mess. Plus, they're pricey--about $1.30 each plus shipping. And, of course, no immediate chocolate caramel gratification.

I was planning on importing some bars for myself when I go to London in a couple of weeks, but there's probably a limit on that. I can only imagine explaining to TSA offocials why I have a large hoard of candy bars in my suitcase. I'd probably end up on a list somewhere.

Last weekend we visited our nearest BevMo so that Dennis could stock up on beer for football-watching (on which I will comment, parenthetically, that if you have to get kinda buzzed to enjoy something, it's probably not that interesting to begin with). And there, to my great delight, was a whole box of Curly Wurlys (at $.99 each). I instantly snatched up 10 or so and tucked them into the cart behind the beer, where the prying eyes of small children wouldn't spy them. When I got them home, I spirited them away into the back of a cupboard, where I have been slowly doling them out to myself. In my defense, I have been sharing with Dennis, but maybe only because it's a lot harder to hide candy from him than the kids. The kids are perfectly satisfied with more common forms of junk, and we can save the Curly Wurlys for the more discerning adults. I'm just glad to have found a local source.

One problem: you can't knit and eat a Curly Wurly simultaneously.