Anybody in the United States who has ever been a Girl Scout knows what time of year it is. There were no less than four order forms circulating around the office for nuts and calendars three weeks ago. Rather than be fair and order from everybody, I just ordered from the first one I saw. Didn't go overboard, just a wall calendar (they're gorgeous this year BTW) and a tin of cashews. Wonderfully salty, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth cashews.
Kerwin thinks I "forgot" to bring the cashews home from work. Au contraire, husband of mine. I did not forget anything. They are staying at work to feed my 3pm drowsy time slump. They are not going home to be slowly nibbled away by you, so that when I go to open them when I REALLY want them, PMSing on a weekend with an irritating toddler throwing things at my head, they are gone, but for salt and a few cashew-flavored crumbs of stuff in the bottom of the tin. It's what you do with my ice cream, my stash of dark chocolate, and any other treats I bring home. No salty, fat Girl Scout cashews for Kerwin, not this year.