If you were to take Christmas trees, baby Jesus, giant inflatable Santas, It’s a Wonderful Life, Stockings hung by the chimney with care, wrapping paper, yuletide cheer, and Mariah Carey’s Christmas album and melt them all together in the Wonkamatic, you would be left with Brach’s Christmas Nougat. For me, this is the King of Christmas candy.
It is easy to overlook this gem because much like the babe lying in a manger wrapped in swaddling clothes, the Christmas Nougat is often out-shined by those treats that found room in the inn (or in this case, the end-cap of the candy aisle.) I am not suggesting that a simple piece of candy can save us from our sins but I am reminding you that just like the Son of God, great things can often be very unassuming.
So when you are out in the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping dropping $8 on Chocolate oranges or Toblerones (has anyone ever had a Toblerone outside of December or an airport?), remember to take joy in the simple things. The humble Christmas Nougat wrapped in cellophane and lying in the bottom of a candy dish is totally sweet.
Today I am wearing socks that don’t match. Now settle down, it isn’t as if I am sporting a brown and a blue or a striped and an argyle. I simply have on two black socks with a very subtle thread pattern that happens to be slightly different on each foot. Maybe I am the only one with this problem but I would suspect that out there among the masses there are other households with secret bags or baskets full of misfit socks that have lost their way. It is often an intricate recipe of sock eating spin cycles, rogue socks separating into different loads of laundry, and a dash of “I folded all of these clothes, no way I am spending the next 5 minutes matching this sock soup at the bottom of the basket” that result in the odd sock stash.
I don’t understand that when I buy 3 pairs of navy blue socks they all have to differ just slightly enough that I am shoehorned into 3 combinations instead of the much larger number of options if any of the six socks could be paired together (I have a friend that will tell me what that number is on the off-chance he reads this thing, but I am too busy comparing candy to the Prince of Peace to be bothered with mathematics.) Fortunately for me, my pants are long enough to hide this slight wardrobe malfunction and I will remember that whichever leg I decide to cross, will be locked in for the rest of the day in social settings. I have been toying with the idea of just throwing away the whole odd sock bag and starting fresh this year with socks that are the same and have colored toes or something to make them easier to identify and match.
I mean, seriously, I have a degree. I have an important job in a professional setting, other people don’t do this right? Standing in the laundry room barefoot clutching 3 different socks in my hand and rummaging through a basket playing my own little version of Where’s Waldo is totally weak.