Every now and then I have one of those moments where I wonder how it is possible that I’ve managed to get out of bed and tie my shoes in the morning, let alone work, and do all those other things that I manage to fill my day with. I had one of those moments the other day, allow me to tell you my tale of woe.
A month or two ago, I received an email from Claire, a regular here and creator of the always fab ‘Claire K Creations’. Claire is a bit of a fan of Christmas, in fact I think it’s safe to say that she has a serious Christmas addiction. Her email was an invitation to take part in a round of foodie Secret Santa.
Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m a total Grinch; I just don’t really get ‘into Christmas’. Well, that’s a lie. I actually love Christmas, I wear a flashing Santa hat on the 25th, I bake and buy pressies – all that jazz. But we don’t have a tree or decorations, I don’t send Christmas cards and I have never (nor will I ever) owned a Christmas cd. The last time I participated in a Secret Santa would have been when I was about ten years old, I recalled having enjoyed myself thoroughly but that’s about it.
With this in mind I thought ‘why not?!’ and quickly signed up. Then we went on our trip and I immediately forgot all about it. Cut to TWO DAYS before the gifts are due to go out and I’m all in a tizz about what I’m going to make. I’d had my eye on this recipe for Peppermint Patties since last year and again thought to myself ‘why not?!’. I stayed up really late one night and made these darling little things and the next morning I packaged them up and sent them off on their merry way.
To Queensland (and Victoria). In the middle of summer.
To add insult to injury I kind of missed the point of the exercise being that the gift was supposed to be a surprise, the sender of which, ahem, was meant to be, well, you know… a secret. So I promptly signed my name on the card and even chucked in one of my fancy new business cards for good measure.
Yeah, I’m a bit of a dill. It’s OK, I can take it.
Commence a week (or so) of fretting about how my box of chocolate would fare on the journey to (basically) outer space in what would naturally be searing, desert hot heat. On Monday morning I awoke, bolt upright, at about 2am worried that I was going to be the cause of The Great Christmas Botulism Outbreak of 2013. It was a harrowing few days, let me tell you.
And then this:
Success! It sounds as though my little peppermint babies at least made it safely to Clare in Victoria.
Oh, but then there was this:
The ‘chocolate turd’ is a very apt (and polite) description of what ended up in poor Maureen’s mailbox. She assures me that they still tasted very good, so that’s a bonus. But next year, I’ll be making a spice rub.