Chocolate is My Kryptonite

For Superman, it's kryptonite.  For me, chocolate.  The stuff undoes me.

There is this place called Farris and Foster's Chocolate Factory near our house in Orlando that should be illegal.  Really.

Pete and I went on a double date to F and F just recently with our oldest monkey and his lovely lady.  We made chocolate creations.  We were chocolate artists.  It was amazingly, insanely, stupidly delicious. And it was fun!  Thanks, you two little chocolate kisses, you!

Chocolate covered everything and anything, Nutella stuffed chocolate truffles, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, chili infused chocolate.  Ahhh!!!!!

 The owner of the store makes his own crazy amazing caramel from a secret family recipe.  I want that recipe.

Dear Chocolate Family,

Will you adopt me so that I can be a part of the family and have that recipe?

Please,

Melissa

 The sign language for "I love you"  is a special thing in our family. So of course, we had to say it in chocolate.

Our creations ranged from beautiful, like chocolate drizzled truffles and strawberries, to bizarre. Like the weird pretzel, nut thing that our son made or Pete making this strange salute for no apparent reason. 

And they had this chocolate conveyor belt of goodness that I was soooo tempted to stick a straw into or take a ride on. But I didn't.  I think Pete stuck his pinky finger in there though. Just kidding.  Maybe. 

After we made and then ate our weight in chocolate. We brought some of our creations home to the monkeys.  And they made creepy chocolate faces at us while they ate. Strange kids! Especially the tallest one.

Hugs, 

Melissa