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Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2003 - 2:31 p.m.

HERSHEY'S: Simple yet satisfying

There's something so wonderfully simple about a Hershey's bar. That brown wrapper with the large, silver block-lettered "HERSHEY'S" with "MILK CHOCOLATE" below it. Slide off the outer wrapper and below you've got the shiny silver foil. Rub lightly across the top of it, and the 12 rectangles below will leave their mark. Flip it over and peel back the foil, and that wonderful scent of the cocoa bean rises to your nose as you gaze upon the smooth, flat brown backside of 1.55 oz (43 g) of heaven. Break off that first column of three mini rectangles, then take just one. The top side repeats the name � "HERSHEY'S" � and in a second it's in your mouth, your teeth smoothly biting into that soft chocolate.

Oh, baby.

* * *

I wrote that yesterday and was waiting to post it until I finished uploading the entries from vacation (which involves lots o' typing), but Lauren's entry inspired me to put it up now. Also, as I mentioned in her guestbook, I had my first Cadbury Creme Egg of the season yesterday, and that was total, utter sweetness. In every sense of the word. And the best part? It's still nearly TWO MONTHS until Easter! Though, believe it or not, the candy does taste fresher when it first comes out.

Among my reasons for liking Easter (and the candy is probably No. 1) is that it comes with spring and in a place that has seasons, that makes a difference. I don't think I'd notice or enjoy Easter as much living in a warm climate. I have vivid memories of Easter mornings as a child where I'd be dressed in my plaid pants and Easter yellow shirt, trapsing around the sogging yard in rain boots (so as not to get mud on our good shoes) with my sister looking for eggs or our baskets. Following the cold and rain of March, many years Easter was one of the first days we'd step outside with just a light jacket or none at all.

My mom still hides my Easter basket somewhere in the house, which isn't too much of a challenge because there really aren't too many hiding places in their house. One year when we were in Maine, I had a much tougher time finding my basket in a house with which I was much less familiar. After my sister and two cousins � all younger than me � had found theirs and I continued to search for mine, I finally "gave up" and tried to give off the impression that I didn't care enough to look high and low for it. "I'll get back to it later," I said, trying to indicate that it wasn't important to me that I go crazy over it. My mom and uncle tried to get me up, but I just read the paper or something. Not too long after I suspended my search, I noticed, 40 feet away in the kitchen, a flower basket hanging from a hook in the ceiling in front of a window. Even from that distance, I recognized the basket as mine. It was camouflaged. But I didn't get up right away; instead, I sat there calmly, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing how much they'd stumped me. When I finally did get up and walk first to the refridgerator (next to the window) and then reached up to get the basket down, I led on that I knew longer than they thought but I was in no hurry to get to it. A small lie.

I also like how at Easter time the local Carvel would change its colored sprinkles from the primary red, white, blue, yellow, green, etc. to the pastel shades of pink, blue, white, yellow and green. I still do, in fact.

Oh, I do love Easter candy and the springtime.

And I haven't even gotten into baseball yet.

But that's coming.

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