Who would stoop so low?
First of all, if it’s too early for me to be blaring Bing’s White Christmas loud enough from my headphones to warrant an intercom beep from the office next to mine, and it’s too early for dangly fishhook earrings, sweaters, and socks that not only match but also jingle-jangle, then it’s definitely too early for low down dirty under-handed holiday hand grenades like this:
Just because the garland at the mall has been up so long it is starting to wilt, and just because my blood type has already gone from Type AB to Type Peppermint Mocha, and just because I already have my family four-pack of tickets to see The Rockettes does NOT make it open season on the holiday treats. I haven’t yet steeled my resistance. I haven’t set my yoga intention to manifest cool, calm, and collected rejection of proffered treats. I haven’t even entered into seasonal talks with my Id to negotiate which treats, if any, are allowable, which are acceptable on a case-by-case basis, and which are absolutely and forever off-limits.
But out of nowhere – sans warning, sans explanation – came these Gingerbread Man Marshmallows. Now, many of you may be impervious to this threat as lifelong haters of The Mallow. I can understand that. But for me, a born lover of The Mallow and devoted Peep Disciple, these Gingerbread Mallows represent the unholy union of that which is irresistible to my overwhelming love of The Holiday Season, and that which is irresistible to my sweet tooth. Suffice it to say they are affecting me in a profound way. Usually, at this time of year there are any number of Mallow laced treats. From the melty-mallow-topped cocoa to the beautifully blackened fireside s’mores, to mom’s old-fashioned mallow-blanketed sweet potatos, marshmallows are everywhere!
Even the office is not safe!