Field Trip Friday

You loved school field trips, right?  Yes?!  Me too!  Let’s walk down memory lane for a moment and recall the good ‘ole field trip days and everything that came along with them:

Permission slips. Chaperones.  Bus trips.  Busses breaking down.  Forgetting your birth certificate and wondering if border patrol will still let you into Canada.  Getting in trouble after an anonymous classmate breaks an ancient museum artifact.  Wondering if your psychology teacher will unknowingly “forget” any troublesome students during your trip to a New York State maximum security prison.

Ah, field trips.  I miss them.  Well, guess what?  I have breaking news on the field trip front!  I no longer need to reminisce because, today, I’m going on a field trip to the big house.  No, no, not another prison.  Drum roll, please.  I’m talking about the White House!  Ohhh, ahhh. My co-workers and I have been invited to take a tour of the Obama home while it’s all dressed up for the holiday season.  I, coincidentally, have decided to forgo casual Friday and dress to impress for my Obama Field Trip Friday.  Do you think the White House staff will think my polka dot socks and jingle bell bracelet are a threat to national security?  If so, I’m in trouble already.

I don’t think a permission slip is necessary for this particular trip but, in case Mr. and Mrs. Obama are curious, my mom is fine if I come over to play.  She only has one matter-of-fact request that I meet the most important member of the Obama family: Bo, the First Dog.  Whereas I would love to meet Mr. Bo Obama, I can’t guarantee he’s involved with providing tours of the White House to complete strangers.

Speaking of the tour, in case you’re wondering, yes, I have a legitimate ticket.  At least, I think I have a ticket. Worst case scenario, I’ll just audition for Real Housewives of DC and sneak my way in like Tareq and Michaele Salahi.   Who knows.  Maybe they’ll hold an impromptu state dinner for me and my co-workers.  It could happen, right?

White House holiday field trip.  Polka dot socks.  Meeting the First Dog.  An imaginary state dinner.  What a day.

A BonBons/White House Amendment! Here's your post-field trip picture (that's me, Honest Abe and a few giant White House trees). Sadly, no Bo sighting.

 

Macadamia Mania

I’ve gone nuts over some very special chocolate and I’m ready to sing it from the rooftops.

The insanity all started with a sampling of Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts and, ever since then, my life has been on edge.  I’m now on a Hershey-influenced hunt.  Before I get ahead of myself, let’s backtrack for a moment and discuss the general brilliance that is the macadamia.

I’m sure the fact that they cost approximately $100 per nut add to their fabulous factor but, regardless, the macadamia is quite simply heaven in a nut.  My most memorable macadamia moment happened many years ago and proves that macadamia mania is undoubtedly in my veins.

My mom, brother and I had just checked into a fancy pants hotel to attend a wedding.  My brother was getting settled in his private room while my mom and I moved into our shared room.  Upon dropping my bag on the floor, I naturally ravaged the hotel suite to find what goodies were in store for my stay.  This brought me to the snack bar, where a bevy of treats were ridiculously packaged and even more ridiculously priced.  I came upon a jar of macadamia nuts.  They called to me.  Hello, Sara!  Welcome!  We can be yours for the reduced rate of $20 per container! If I’d followed my animal instincts, I would have ripped apart the pretty packaging and gone wild but I decided to casually mention the $20 snack bar topic with my mom.  Maybe I could squeeze a “yes” out of her.

Me: “Mom!  This is awesome.  They have macadamia nuts in this cute little jar.  They’re only……..$20.”

Mom: “Call your brother in is room right now.  Tell him not to touch the macadamia nuts.”

Me: “Boo.”…..[Dialing]……”Michael. Mom told me to tell you not to eat the macadamia nuts. They’re $20.”

Michael: [Sounds effects of him proudly and unregrettably eating $20 macadamia nuts]…..”Oops.  Too late.”

Since the famous $20 hotel macadamia nut experience, my frugal self still hasn’t been able to break into any hotel macadamia nut containers.  I do, however, help myself whenever the costly snacks stare me down at a party or on special occasions.  In fact, I encountered a new level of macadamia mania just a few weeks ago during Thanksgiving dinner.

My cousin, recently returned from a trip to Hawaii, brought back Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts.  These chocolates somehow made their way to the dessert table prior to dinner.  Listen closely.  They’re delicious.  They’re so incredible that I may have sampled them multiple times before the appetizers even started.  I couldn’t help it.  I could even hear them calling me from their little bowl of fun.  Sara, Sara, over here!  Forget the shrimp.  Don’t pay attention to the cheese and crackers.  Carrots?  Boo, vegetables!  You want us, over here, in Dessert Land!  Aloha!  We’re Hawaiian!

I instantly quizzed my vacationing cousin about his super secret chocolate discovery.  Where did you get them?  How did you get them?  Why have I never seen them before?  Why didn’t you bring back more? Following my frantic sugar-induced interview, I concluded there’s both good and bad macadamia news.  Good news?  You can purchase Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts in the United States.  Bad news?  You can only purchase them in Hawaii.  You know, Hawaii.  The Hawaii that is over there, on the other side of the map.  The only appropriate saying right now is to quote my 7-year-old self: “That’s.  Not.  Fair!”

I’m now contemplating a few options:

1) Relocate: Aloha, Hawaii.  This way, I can blissfully live in the land of Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts forever and ever.

2) Protest: I’ll march on up to Hershey, Pennsylvania, demonstrate my freedom of speech and demand chocolate change.  What do we want?   Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts!  When do we want it?  Now!

3) Exchange: I’ll send a press release to anyone I’ve ever met with the following information: “Are you planning on skipping over to Hawaii for a relaxation vacation?  Yes?!  Well, I’ve got the deal of the century worked out for you.  Bring an extra suitcase.  Buy as many Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts as humanly possible and shove them into the spare luggage.  Just let me know which airport you’ll be arriving at upon your return.  Assuming my car decides to function properly, I’ll chauffeur you home.  You can then gift me with the chocolate from heaven.”

Better yet, maybe I’ll combine my trio of ideas.  I could get a job with Hershey, send myself to Hawaii and manage a project aimed at distributing Hershey’s Kisses filled with macadamia nuts to every country across the globe.  I’m all over this mission.  Maybe it will even bring about world peace!  Now, who’s with me?!

A Feline Farewell

The interesting thing about BonBons for Breakfast is that, come Friday morning, you never quite know what you’re going to read.  For example, did you ever think you’d find yourself reading a cat obituary?  No?!  Well then, prepare to be surprised.

I’ve decided that, on occasion, life is like a country song.  This week, the last line of my country song would be “…..and then my cat died.” You see, my family cat, Bing, was put to sleep earlier this week.  Bing was master of the house and, when I use the word “master,” I’m not using it lightly.  This cat knew what she wanted and wasn’t apprehensive to make her presence known.  She frolicked.  She purred.  She loved.  Above all, she ruled the roost.  Let’s take a look at a few examples:

1) When the pantry was greeted with some unwelcome visitors [cough....mice....cough], Bing took it upon herself to manage the situation.  She was the police cat of the pantry and nobody messed with her territory.  As proof of her achievements, Bing proudly presented my mom with remnants from one of the departed intruders.

2) When I attempted to put her on a cat food diet, on strict orders from her veterinarian, Bing showed me who was boss.  She was none to pleased with the Kitty Weight Watchers program.  She responded to her new meal plan by zig-zagging in front of me while I tried to walk down the stairs and, eventually, rebelled by eating the dog food instead.

3) No matter how hard I tried to prevent it, whenever I had a bowl of cereal, she would manage to hook a paw into the bowl and hijack a portion of the milk.  If you ever find me jumpy and possessive when eating a bowl of cereal, you’ll now understand that I’ve been conditioned by Bing as a manic cereal eater.

4) A few years ago, I thought I hit the jackpot with my invention of a kitty tetherball set.  Yes, you read correctly.  Kitty tetherball. I designed it while working as a camp counselor and it was intended as a cat toy for Bing.  In an attempt to make it more appealing to cats, I even replaced the ball with a wooden fish.  I cut the wood, painted it and showed it off to my friends.  Finally, I was ready for the real test.  I presented it to Bing.  She quickly helped me realize that a kitty tetherball patent was not in my future.  She looked at my invention, looked at me and walked away.

5)  Bing strongly felt that she should be fed daily at 3am.  Every day, in the middle of the night, Bing would wake me up in the middle of my dreams/REM cycle/beauty sleep and let it be known that it was time for breakfast.  She would wake me by scratching at my nose, running marathons around my bedroom or, on the occasion when I attempted to lock her out of my room, she would continuously scratch at the door until I dragged myself out of bed.  I always wondered why she didn’t wake up anyone else in the house but I suppose that’s her little secret.  Maybe I was simply the only one gullible enough to actually give her what she wanted.

Last week, while I was visiting for Thanksgiving, it was clear to my family that Bing wasn’t doing so well.  She wasn’t eating and wasn’t her usual perky self.  One night, while sleeping, I awoke in the middle of the night with a heavy pressure on my chest.  I wondered what was wrong with me.  Is this a heart attack?  In my 20s?  Bummer. Alas, I was not suffering a heart attack.  I opened my eyes to see Bing lying on my chest.  She decided to use me as her mattress.  Even though she wasn’t feeling so hot, Bing made sure that I was awake.  Bright and early.  As always.

Now that Bing is gone, I’m curious who will tell me that my crazy cat inventions are bogus, that there’s a mouse in the house or that I need to wake up at 3am.  To all those animal compatriots out there, I’m sure you know the gutted  feeling of losing a pet.  I have hopes that our dear departed animals are enjoying each other, playing nicely and will hopefully remember to send us messages from beyond should our homes be invaded by mice intruders.

RIP Bing.