Fruitcake season is again upon us. Dear husband couldn’t be happier. This is his nectar of the gods, the key to his tolerance of the holidays. He began looking for it at Costco weeks ago and came home jubilant the day he finally found it. Without telling me what he was talking about he started the conversation with, “They make 911 of them every year.” Me: “Uhm, 911 of what?” Him: “Fruitcakes! So I’m not the only one who loves it! They make 911 and they sell out every year!”
He believes there should be more fruitcake in the world. He’s twice suggested to That Takes the Cake that they should make fruitcake cupcakes. They’ve humored him but it’s not looking like it’s going to be part of their business plan anytime soon.
In the meantime our routine is the same every year. I hide the fruitcake. He gets a piece a week. If we didn’t have a rationing plan the darned thing would disappear within a couple of days. Or maybe less. We do the same with my peppermint bark. It’s under lock and key. You’d think a couple of adults could exercise some restraint, wouldn’t you?
