Sweet Nothings

The fast approach of Halloween brings candy to mind. Plus Anna just gave me a little bag of M&Ms. I ate the green ones first.

What are your feelings on candy corn? It's one of my favorites, even though - or perhaps because - it's just like eating little candles made with sugar. I've seen candy corn-shaped candles, actually, in a few of those whimsical home-decor catalogs the mail-order gods keep sending me, the kind that cater to people who actually put up different curtains for Christmas, and who buy light-up outdoor resin gooses that come with a different weather-resistant outfit for every imaginable holiday.

I would eat them. The candles, I mean.

The worst kind of candy is probably those little bland taffy ones that come wrapped in orange or black wax paper. Or there are worse candies, but the taffy ones look like they ought to be good, so they're much more disappointing. I bet if you dug through your attic or basement and found a candy bag from your childhood, there would still be a bunch of those left in the bottom. They're the ones you unwrap and eat, reluctantly, after all the other candy is gone; but you can never manage more than one. They taste kind of gross, but mostly it's because your mouth is cemented shut.

Anything chocolate is generally good, although this doesn't include Tootsie Rolls, if those are indeed chocolate. What exactly are those things? I've never figured it out. Not worth the trouble of chewing, in any case. And Three Musketeers are not really chocolate; technically they are members of the air family, along with Cool Whip, cotton candy, and spray insulation. M&Ms are good, especially because they now have blue and red, which they didn't have when I was a kid.

When I was in high school we worked out what effect all the different colors had on you. I don't need to tell you what green does, everybody knows that one. Yellow made you frightened, and orange made you angry. Dark brown made you need to visit the restroom. Hey, we were kids. Besides, that's not nearly as bad as the effect the light brown ones were supposed to have when tossed at my French teacher - if only you could land it in her cleavage from way in the back of the room.

I know that sounds terrible. But she was the only woman I ever knew who could show cleavage in a turtleneck; and besides, her pronunciation was inexcusable.

Last year we were living in an apartment. This year we're in a house on a nice street about two blocks from the elementary school. Better stock up!