OH, FUUUUUUUUUDGE

No, I’m not blogging about the naughty verbal blunder Ralphie makes in the movie A Christmas Story when trying to help his dad do surgery on a flat tire. No, this blog is actually about fudge. You see, the past few days I’ve relentlessly been consuming mass quantities of the sweet stuff.

Whenever Big Bore I head down to southeast Kansas together, which we did on Tuesday, we often take a side trip to Oswego, if the time and extra gasoline allow. Oswego is a quaint little burg where people are still allowed to park in the middle of Main Street. It rests on the crest of a hill above the Neosho River plain---a very windy hill, I might add.

Anyway, the best thing about Oswego is its drugstore, because inside that drugstore is The Fudge Factory!! Oh, yeah! Now, I really don’t have that much of a sweet tooth most of the time, but when I step one foot into that fabulous factory, I’m a goner.

After sampling the specialty flavor of the day, pumpkin, of course, we declared it fine but not purchase-worthy, so we ended up getting two square chunks each of vanilla praline, vanilla pecan, and chocolate peanut butter. Ten dollars. Our absolute favorites were not available when we made our stop, boo-hoo. That’s chocolate orange for BB and chocolate raspberry swirl for The Flaming Bore. Still, we were happy and toted our six yummy, fudgey fudge pieces off to the park, along with two little plastic knifes, where we blew in the wind and sliced away at our heavenly fudge for a while before getting back to our road trip to Pittsburg.

I lost count of how many times I sneaked into the fudge box yesterday and cut off a little piece. Let’s just say we’re down to only 2+ pieces being left and I’m not getting anywhere near the scales today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day--or the day after that--until ol’ Sugar Lips here has worked off the calories. Oh, fudge!