Where was I?
Ah yes, the Twelve Days of Christmas, or Chocolate—either way it ended Saturday, the Epiphany being Sunday. My mother referred to the holy day (between bites of the forbidden Christmas fudge my sister banned from her house because "we are all on diets") as "Mini Christmas." At which point I heard my grandmother scream, "Why dida we waste alla da money ona da private's eschool" from the big Italian table in Catholic Heaven.
So the Epiphany, aka, Mini Christmas, was Sunday, which made me think it was time to haunt the melting Walgreen's Christmas aisle to see if they had completely cleared out the birth of our Lord for the fat little naked guy. No, not Danny DiVito, and I'm still sans limoncello.
There were surprisingly few Valentine's Day items, although I did come across the tub o' Cocoa Deli Rocky Road Clusters pictured above. I'd show you the unwrapped candy photos, but they look a scosh too much like a Christmas present the dog would leave. The chocolate doo drops were so bad, that after one bite I decided to ditch them in a snow bank.
Those Cocoa Deli Popsicles were to die for; someone even wrote me Jonesin' for some long after Belgian chocolate popsicle season was over. Cocoa Deli Rocky Road Clusters, not so much. They're not worth .99 cents of the $6.99 asking price. They taste like stale Chunkys, look nothing like the picture on the tub, and I left them as after dinner mints for indiscriminate squirrels. A few nibbles reminded me of eating the paper that sticks to melted chocolate, then solidifies, then you find it weeks or possibly months later, and eat it when you think no one is looking.
Not that I've done that.