I’ve never quite understood the logic of some people when it comes to Halloween treats. Mercifully, most sane people understand that children like things that actually taste good, like chocolate. A few are too well-meaning for their own good, and give out things like raisins (blech!). Others seem to think Halloween is a perfect opportunity to unload their leftover candy from last Easter. Or worse.
But no matter what your age, income or social status, there seems to be a universal truth when it comes to the most desired candy each Halloween. In an informal poll (mostly comprised of my kids and co-workers) Reeses and Milky Way comes out at the tippy top. Bonus points for the King size. At the very bottom of the pillowcase, pennies and raisins. Here’s where everything else falls…
TIER ONE: Reeses, Snickers, Milky Way, M&M’s, Skittles, SweetTarts, Butterfinger: Jackpot. Eat immediately. Probably from someone who actually has kids. Definitely from someone who has grandkids.
TIER TWO: Twizzlers, Smarties, Blow Pops, Take 5, Milk Duds, Starburst, Whoppers, JuJuBees: Okay, clearly not the favorites, but will suffice once the good stuff is gone. Usually from the cool neighbor with the dogs and all the bottles on the porch.
TIER THREE: Candy corn, apples, raisins, pennies, Dum Dums, strange things in a plastic bag that are unidentifiable, popcorn balls, Lemonheads: Usually from the scary guy who invites you into the house to see his reptile collection. Or, a very well-meaning, but slightly-out-of-touch lady with lots of cats.
So, as we stop by your house tonight, make sure you’ve got the good stuff waiting. As I mentioned, Reeses are my favorite. Save those nasty Lemonheads for yourself, or you could just find yourself with a nasty trick.
What’s your favorite Halloween treat?

Is Safeway outclassing the neighborhood patisserie?
Whether you like ’em grilled, fried, sprinkled with onions, dripping with special sauce, thrown over animal style or pink enough to still be mooing in the middle, hamburgers inspire a fanatical passion usually reserved for sports teams or rock stars.
After months…and months…and months of waiting, a new Cafe des Croissant/Grateful Bagel has opened on the corner of Brookwood and 4th St. One of the few bakeries in the SR (why is that, anyway?), their croissants never fail to leave the bag, my fingers, most of the inside of my car and several handfuls of napkins delightfully greasy–a pretty good sign that they’ve used plenty of butter.
I don’t speak Spanish. I do speak Fried. As in chicken, mozzarella sticks, zucchini, the occasional Blooming Onion, and once a Twinkie. In the universal language of crispy deliciousness, I am fluent.
I’m not a cash-carrying kind of gal. The green stuff just ends up stuffed in a pocket somewhere, or worse, spent. This is rarely a problem until I end up walking into a restaurant, ordering my meal, and only then discovering they don’t take Visa. Or checks. Or my sweet smile as collateral. (Actually, that worked once.)