It’s ribbon candy.
I’m serious, this is important. Because for some reason ribbon candy is this impossible, mythological item, something that Baba Yaga gifts to the wayward traveler who has won her good graces. And I know in my mind it should be thin and opalescent like glass, and each color should be a different flavor. However, what I’d been finding in real life was thick, clumsy candy covered in flaws and breaks. THIS DOES NOT FIT IN WITH MY SLAVIC FANTASY CHRISTMAS.
So, I was skipping through the frosty deep winter forest when I came across a box of Russell Stover ribbon candy for something like $2. I clapped my hands and gnomes danced around me and little snowbirds burst across the sky like a whorl of ice crystals.
The best part is when you try to break a piece off it explodes into a thousand tiny shards, some of which fall to the floor and later stick to your socks.
They’re beautiful like edible Christmas ornaments and I keep looking at them with satisfaction, but I’m not poki online poker sure there is anything practical about them at all. I mean, that’s a dumb thing to say. There’s clearly nothing practical about candy spun into fancifully antagonistic shapes, but what I mean is that I can’t think of a scenario where you won’t be picking slivers of sticky, half-melted candy out of the carpet, your clothes and the dog’s fur. The upside is that they are tasty, and the white ribbon was vanilla flavored, which briefly broke my brain.
Hey, as long as you’re here, I want you to see something. See, I knit. I don’t talk about it here because then it’ll be a cooking and knitting website, and that path leads to kitten videos and talking about feelings and I think we’d all rather just drink an irresponsible amount of peppermint schnapps and argue about House Hunters.
But look at these ladies:
Her sweater says “Hello” but her eyes say “I’m going to land a hatchet between your fucking eyes, peasant.”
Hay now! Some of us are happy to be wearing a mint green acrylic sweater!