What's Your Candy Plan?

I am irresistibly drawn to Halloween candy. But only in September and October does my mouth water at the thought of Sugar Babies and Heath Bars. Never in May do I crave a Baby Ruth (or 9).

On the other hand, my husband (Marty) made a decision about 10 years ago that for health reasons he wasn't going to eat sugar ever again. "Who hasn't done that?" you ask. Well, he hasn't -- eaten sugar again. 

Not me. I usually notice the urge coming on in early September -- way before there is any rational excuse. Brightly packaged, each familiar shape a reminder of a particular pleasure, I feel a little tingle of anticipation. Feeling self-righteous because it's so blatantly commercial, I turn away in disgust.

The next time we cross paths my mind starts to betray me. Why shouldn't I plan ahead? Beat the crowd and make sure I have the best -- for the little mermaids and ninjas, of course.

Come early October candy is a staple on my grocery list. The budget is blown but there will be no last minute searching for the right combination of color, disgustingly sour/sweet flavors and popularity. Our Trick or Treaters will have the best selection.

Never mind that this happens every year. I buy, buy, buy and still end up rushing out on October 30th, only to find one marked up bag of the rejects because unfortunately the "good stuff" gets eaten each week by someone.

So be it. Come Halloween our eight little goblins filled their bags with treats. Marty and I allowed them to pick out 10 or 15 pieces because Marty believes in something called moderation.

Problem is, we no longer have goblins living with us. So, in a desperate move I've spread the word in our kid-sparse neighborhood that we will be open for Trick or Treating. This means I must buy candy.

I'll tell hubby I'll get rid of any surplus. He assumes (because he thinks I can exercise that muscle called self-restraint) this means the garbage. I know it means putting those tasty little devils in my desk drawer, where they belong.


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