Of Wawa, Kakes and Cheeses of Bacon

I have the east coast in my blood and it's always good to go home, even if it means a total of over 10 hours of plane time with two small children and a wife who hates to fly. My wife, thankfully, is an east coaster as well. One of the pleasures of WonderWife's™ hometown are the many Wawa convenience stores sprinkled throughout.

I did not grow up with Wawas. My hometown had 7-11, as we do here in Southern California. While my love for the 'Sev is strong and unabated, I must confess that Wawa gives it a run for its money. It could be the made-to-order sandwich bar, where you can put together your masterpiece using a touch screen that has detailed options like "a little bit of mayo" or "extra oil". Perhaps it's the fresh baked Philly style pretzels sold at the register. But most definitely, it's the entire aisle dedicated to the greatest snack cakes in the history of junk food.

"Nobody bakes a cake as tasty as a..."

(If you can finish that line, than you know what I'm talking about.)

I was fortunate to grow up in a state that had access to the sugary goodness known as Tastykake. They are made in Philadelphia and are only sold in surrounding areas (though their reach keeps expanding). Tastykakes are one of the touches of home that I miss now that I live on the opposite coast. And at the Wawa, they have a whole bunch of them.

So imagine my surprise when I was perusing the Tastykake aisle of a Wawa, while the sandwich artisan behind the counter was preparing my Shorti, and I found this:

Not only is it a Tastykake, but it displayed two words that I love to see on any snack food, "limited edition."

Cheesecake Tastykake pie is exactly what you want it to be. It has a graham crust, thick enough not to get soggy and thin enough so that you don't get a mouth full of dry crust when you eat the pie. The filling has a rich, creamy texture and does a pretty good job of replicating an actual cheesecake. Good stuff indeed.

Speaking of good stuff, my mom-in-law (who in the past has provided me with experiments in bacony goodness) came through again this Thanksgiving by serving bacon cheese before the big meal.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that bacon cheese is cheese with bacon in it. While I think the cheese itself was cheddar, it tasted more like deeply smoked gouda. It was really good on it's own, but it was downright excellent when placed upon a garlic cracker. I almost didn't have room for turkey.

But of course, I had room for turkey. Cause it was Thanksgiving. And I was on the east coast. My true home.

Happy Turkey Eating Day

We are making our annual pilgrimage east for the holiday, so it's going to be quiet around here this week. Will this be the year I finally get to eat a Turducken? Odds say no, but a guy can dream, can't he?

No matter what you cram in your faces this week, I wish all of you a happy Thanksgiving. Spend it with people you love.

Flashback Friday: Quiet Moment on a Family Vacation

Everyone was asleep but me. The sun, and some powerful margaritas, had drained the energy of the rest of my family, but it was early and I wasn’t yet tired so I figured the only sensible thing to do was to slowly make my way towards the bottom of a bottle of wine.

I crept out to the patio and curled up on a lounge chair, soaking in the solace of the night. The sky was inky black and dotted with stars—a view usually kept hidden by the bright sky of the city. The moon cast just enough light to see. In the distance sprinklers watered the lawn, sounding like a heavy rainstorm that reminded me of an east coast summer shower.

I drained my glass and crept back into the kitchen, which was adjacent to the couch where my brother-in-law was sleeping. The room was dark and I was craving another glass of wine. I felt my way towards the bottle and poured another round. I thought it was a brilliant move when I stuck my finger near the top edge of the glass, so I could feel when to stop pouring. However, I soon realized that this was probably one of the first tricks ever learned by any blind person.

I returned to the patio and sat in silence. Stealing a private moment in the midst of a family vacation and basking in the comfort of having everyone that I love in the rooms around me. It wasn't long before the bottle was empty, and I was asleep.

So That's Why Nobody Made Eye Contact With Me

I was waiting in the return line during my second Target run of the day. The Bean was sitting happily in the shopping cart playing with a toy car when suddenly he stopped and loudly blurted out this piece of information:

"When I was naked my sister touched my penis and it tickled."

He then added:

"I didn't tell her to do it!"

Pack Mentality

The last few years of elementary school and the beginning of junior high were difficult for me. Shifting social strata caused my one time close friends to rise to the top while I sunk to the bottom. There were a lot of lonely times, as I was left without a circle of friends. Thankfully, that began to change as I segued from tween to teen. And it's because of that experience that maintaining a close group of friends has always been one of the most important things to me.

I am incredibly lucky because I have an excellent circle of friends. These are guys that I've known for nearly two decades, since we began college. (Really, it was that long ago???)

The awesome Shelle over at the awesome Venus Vs. Mars blog asked me to write a little something about friendship. So click on over there to find out more about how my pack came together.

Home Alone

Much like in real life, I like to get out and roam around every once in a while. This is why you'll find me writing posts on other people's blogs (always invited though, I think it's rude to crash). As a result, those of you who visit my actual blog page will notice a new section in the upper right hand corner that provides links to the other places I've been recently. Those of you checking me out in a reader, now you have incentive to click through and visit every once in a while.

Today, I'm back at Venus V. Mars to give the male perspective on being home alone. But honestly, it's really more of a me perspective than should stand for all males. Here's a peek:

My wife and kids have left for a week and I am on my own. It is day 2, Saturday. A day filled with endless possibility. One that has not been pre-planned or scheduled.

Ri Roooh Roo

I was sitting at a restaurant, waiting for my lunch companion to arrive, when WonderWife™ called.

“Do you have a second?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Listen to this,” she said. “Sprout, say ‘I love you.' Say ‘I love you.’"

I could hear the rustling sound of the phone being shifted about. In the background Sprout’s voice came through, uttering something with the same cadence and syllables.

It sounded like, “Ri roooh roo.”

“Baby,” I said to my wife. “You know those people who think their dogs are saying ‘I love you’ and send it to America’s Funniest Videos? You’re doing that right now.”

Morning Sanctuary

Every single morning I peel myself out of bed and quickly stumble towards the bathroom looking like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein. The bed's gravity is strong and if I don't get out of it's pull quickly, I will snap back to the mattress and return to slumber, thus shirking my parental responsibilities, rendering myself late for work and my son late for school and pissing off my wife, who already has enough to do without me doubling her workload. Still every single morning waking up is a fight. This has been especially true lately since WonderWife™ cajoled me into waking up earlier.

Working late as I do, I don't get to spend enough quality time with my kids. For a while, my time with them seemed to consist entirely of me barking orders at them like a drill sergeant: Brush your teeth! Get dressed! Flush the toilet! Put on your pajamas! For the love of jeebus flush the toilet! This began to take its toll on my relationship with my kids. So WonderWife™ kindly suggested that I get my ass out of bed a little earlier to allow for some playtime in the mornings. Of course she was right, she's always right. But that doesn't make waking up any easier.

In the morning, the bathroom becomes my sanctuary where I transform from sleepy zombie into a human being. I focus my thoughts and get ready for the day. Because once I step through the bedroom door, it's showtime. Daddy must be "on" for two kids who wake up filled with enthusiasm and energy reserved only for the young. But in the bathroom, I can ease into the day like a car warming up on a cold winter morning. I don't have to talk. I don't have to think. I can just let the warm shower force me awake.

Yet lately my solitude has been disrupted. While I'm in the shower the bathroom door will slowly creek open followed by one or two sets of feet. One or both of my kids will pad in and greet me with a big, bright, "Hi Daddy!" Rack up another concession to parenting. My serene morning has dissolved and showtime has begun early.

View From the Back

Today at Hot Dads:

An open letter to my digital camera, who like it or not, shows me my many sides.

Click on over there and check it out.

An Experiment

I have to be honest with you, this writing thing is hard. Coming up with two or three posts a week about my boring life is challenging. My kids are hilarious, but not all of the time. New food products only come out every so often and we're still a year and a half away from Michael Bay's next movie, so I have very little to complain about there. I sometimes think about taking a sabbatical when the creative juices start to run dry. But honestly, I love writing too much to stop.

So with that said, I need your help with an experiment. I would love for you, my awesome readers, to provide some grist for the writing mill and interview me. Ask me some questions and I will work to turn the answers into what I hope are entertaining posts for you. Is there anything you want to know about me? Are there topics you'd like me to write about? My philosophies about parenting? Music? Movies? Are there things you hate that I write about? Who would win in a fight, a Wookie or an Orc?

If you're interested in playing, leave a question in the comments or send me an email.

This is either going to be great or a total disaster. Either way, I thank you guys for continuing to read.

Baby Ruth Crisp

I know it's post-Halloween and you're all candied out, but lookit what I found on the shelves of the 'Sev!:

I'm a big fan of the "Crisp" bars. Kit Kats are great. Reeses Sticks are divine and Butterfinger Crisp just might be better than the original. I dig the way Crisp bars manage to keep the flavor of the bar they emulate while providing a completely different texture.

Baby Ruth Crisp offers the chocolate, peanuts and caramel of the original but adds layers of wafer and creme. As WonderWife™ and I dug into our Crisps, she told me that Baby Ruth just might be one of her favorite candy bars. While I like Baby Ruth, it's never placed in my top 5. But the Crisp is really good. Like the ones that have come before it, the signature Baby Ruth flavor is totally intact, but with a light crunchy texture from the wafers. The hit of salt from the peanuts seemed more prominent and the creme between the wafers is sweet, but compliments the chocolate well.

WonderWife™ and I both wished the peanuts had been more finely chopped and I thought that the layer of caramel was too heavy and chewy compared to the more delicate wafers. But these are minor complaints. The verdict on BRC was unanimous that it was not only tasty, but a total buy-again.