Necessary expenditures.

I have demonstrated in the past my facility with buying things.  I am a skilled spender of moneys.  But there is the odd psychological corner where I'm almost incapable of parting with dollars, no matter how urgent the need.  Like for sweatpants, say.

Joel had to buy me a new pair last Christmas to replace those treasures, which were given to me by an old roommate in 2001 who had in turn gotten them from a thrift shop.  They were many hands old.  I had to wear them over shorts to maintain any mystery.

Since I married Joel I've stopped buying gym shoes from Payless and wearing them for years (and, oddly, my knees have much improved) but I hold out on other gym strip items until the last second.  These shorts I accidentally stole from a different old roommate (sorry, Chels) and wore into the ground.

I bought new shorts for $12 and they shrunk IMMEDIATELY but I refuse to stop wearing them or to buy new ones because I'd rather expose my upper-upper-thighs to the world than spend another $12 on something like gym shorts.

Yesterday Joel and I took our annual trip to the Boxing-Week mall to spend our Christmas cheques.  Joel only clothes-shops once a year, so he has to get a new EVERYTHING, but I only spent $14 because I am going to New York in May (you may recall).  I did buy a new $5 yellow tank, because $5 yellow tanks are my go-to layering option, and also my jogging garment of choice.  Every year the new $5 yellow tank becomes my layering-tank, and the old layering-tank replaces the jogging-tank, which gets turfed for indecent exposure and loss of attractive mustardyness.  Behold.

It looks like a detergent commercial.

The caloric consumption continues apace.

Homemade hot cocoa, with homemade marshmallows.

Toasted.

The food-torch is earning its keep with a vengeance.

Excuse my radio silence.

I have been in Chilliwack, doing Chilliwackean things like snuggling puppies and going for a jog along the Vedder River and watching BALD EAGLES FIGHT EACH OTHER IN THE AIR.  Chilliwack is The Wilds.

Also, I was given a créme broulee torch for Christmas and have been using it to light candles. 

This is why I can't have nice things.

Robson Square!

So tall!

So full of bodies!

So festive!

Winter Solstice Lantern Festival!

Lanterny!

Ethereal!

Full of hippies playing wooden tubas.

It's Christmas time!

The chocolate flows like water.

We went to the German Christmas market.

There were bratwursts.

And Santa.

And (obviously) giraffes.

Best Christmas ever already.

We have stepped into the holiday whirlwind and there is a great deal of bacon involved.  Also, we went to a wedding last night and I met the Colonel.

Miles to go before I sleep, and all that.

My last exam is tonight at 7 (I know, right?) but I still owe Joel a birthday dinner from last January so we're going out at 4, which means that I have just under eight hours to study and pack for the mainland.  After the exam we're going out for drinks and tomorrow we catch an early ferry to make a wedding on the mainland.  I like to give myself lots of time between THINGS in case something goes wrong, so I am feeling distinctly itchy about all these back-to-back time-sensitive activities.

I've been reading theory for the last two days, and saved all the easy ones for this morning so I could whiz through them, which means I'm reading an overwhelming pile of feminist and post-colonial theory.  Everyone is so angry, but at least they refrain from saying things like 'the center is not the center' and 'a superabundance of supplementarity,' so I can deal with a little rage.

There are many things yet to do, and I don't think I will feel settled until we get to the wedding tomorrow.  Preferably on time.

It never ends. Except that, on Friday, it will end.

I am done a final, and it was the most poorly-constructed final of my life.  I will go on a bit of a tear after the grades are in and I am no longer secretly afraid that my prof will find me shooting my mouth off over here (he seems like the type).  Let's just say that I think I pulled it out.

Upon completion of which, I received my final paper back and phew.  My cleverly-arranged nonsense had all the appearance of scholarship.  And you're all, Raych, you are being modest.  But nay.  If I were to give you this paper to read, the academically-minded among you would be all, But this is just a series of digressions on Jane Austen, loosely tacked to Northanger Abbey!  And I would be all, *nods smugly*

I am trying to resist the siren song of literally everything that is not my theory final, but my theory final looms large.  I have just over two days.  Come here, Saussure, and I will read you.

Last Weekend, in Bullets

To save time:

• I thought boo and I were frugal fiends because we found dresses for $16.50 until I found this gal and her dress-a-day-for-a-dollar.  Now I want to go buy up some muumuus and snip them into summer frocks.
• Boo and I bought the same dress for $16.50.  Also we bought the same ruffled tank.  Eventually our entire wardrobes will be doppelgangers.
• I want to make out with Vancouver Public Transit and its many, largely punctual buses.
• I held a Baby Byrd.  Also, Momma Byrd looks amazing.

• We went to boo's in-laws' for her birthday dinner, and there were more dessert options than dinner eats.
• I have a Chinese cousin now.

• Also, unless you are the wedding photographer, taking photos at a wedding is an exercise in your camera's weaknesses.  On the other hand...
• Something about a camera flash makes everyone's hair look shiny and healthy, when we know otherwise.

• Everyone is so good to me.  Thanks for chauffeuring my car-less ass all over town, boo and Darren and mom and dad (and, when I got back to the island, Joel).

Back to the grindstone, nose.

I am just going to rest for a minute.

I finished my annotated bibliography and handed it in and then met with my supervisor and then finished my paper and handed that in and then ran an errand and then ran a more different errand and soon I have to go wrassle some munchkins and then have snacks and wine with the girls until I tap out because I am exhausted and I think I've been accidentally hot-boxing myself with a Glade candle and it has made me ill.

The weather gods have smiled upon me.

The last few days I've been waking up around 6:00 with a *gasp!* my paper!  And then I get up and frantically peck away at the thing and rend my garments and gnash my teeth until it's time for bed.  It's the last one for the semester, and it is murdering me.

This morning Shannon and I were going to do our weekly burn up Mt Doug but when I woke (at 6) it was rainy and windy and full-dark (obviously).  I'd been counting on that hike/run to recharge my lethargic brains, but hike/running in the rain is miserable, and going up the mountain is (ever so slightly) dangerous in the wind.  Tree branches collapsing, etc.

I texted Shannon around 8 all, Are we doing this thing?  And she's like...Yes?  Because while I'd been pecking away the skies had cleared and the sun come out and it was 8 degrees and perfectly still.  A branch cracked over us while we were hiking, and we screeched and ran a few steps, but nothing untoward happened.

As soon as I got home, brains a-cranking and skins not horribly chilled, it started to rain again.  Torrentially. 

Cheaper than cranking the thermostat.

I have a pair of thigh-high argyle socks that I've been wearing under my sweats because the house is always so cold.  They are like ass-less long johns.

Other than that, I am frantically writing a paper over here.  Business as usual.

More eensyness!

Knowing my love of all things eensy, Joel bought me the wee-est Christmas tree.  It is my first ever real tree and it is as tall as my hand.  I promptly decorated it with cranberries and popcorns because what else are you going to do with a tree this eensy?

He still needs a topper, but given the proliferation of santa hats in this house right now he will probably, let's face it, end up with a hat.  Poor little monster.

Let's see how long I can keep him alive for.

BEA

Ok so.  The Book Expo of America is a THING in New York that all my book blogger friends go to every year and hang out and chatter and meet authors and publishers and then come home with group photos that I am not in because New York is far away.  It is an incredibly huge deal.

I decided about a month ago that I was going to scrape together my pennies this year and go, because (as that tear-jerking song they play during the Stanley Cup finals goes) the chance may never come again.  I.e. I will eventually be procreating and then I will have to find somewhere to stash my babies for a week and who needs that hassle?

Y'ANYway, I mentioned this to my sister and she was all I WILL COME WITH YOU except probably not, because it barely makes sense for me to go, and I am a book-blogger.  So I tried not to get my hopes up about her coming, but secretly I did a little bit.

Last weekend when she was out with the In-Law Contingent she gave me a package from mom and dad, which (when opened) was a set of Mapkins (maps on napkins!  How droll) of New York, and a note saying 'This is a round ticket to NY w/ your sis.'  And I was all, This note makes no sense, as tickets are not round.  Mother is so amusing.

But then boo is like, No, they're sending us.  We both get to go.

And then I shrieked and cried a little bit in the restaurant in front of the In-Law Contingent whom I had just met and they were very sweet about it and then boo and I shared a quesadilla and were like THIS IS HOW WE WILL DO IN NEW YORK, we will share all the meals.

And so I am going to New York with my sister next May, and it will be a sisterday adventure like never before!  WHAT LARKS!

Only 166 more days.

New tricks.

I have learned a very dangerous trick.  I can make a very passable cake-in-a-mug.  Everything gets mixed in the mug, and then you cook it in the microwave.

I know!  It should be gross.  But it's very not.

And all I dirtied was the tablespoon and the quarter-teaspoon and my hand a little bit when I cracked the egg.  And the mug, obviously.  And a fork.  But considering cake-that-is-not-in-a-mug, these are small potatoes.  Small, delicious potatoes.

With great power comes great responsibility...not to have cake for dinner every time Joel is on call.  I'm 0-1 on that score.

If you do not want this sort of power, avert your eyes.  Recipe courtesy of Chelsie the Interrobanger.

You will need:
The largest mug you have.  No seriously.  A huge one.  That jokily massive mug someone at work got you as a gift?  That one.
4 tbsp flour
4 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp cocoa
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 egg
3 tbsp milk
3 tbsp oil
3 tbsp chocolate chips (or walnuts, or goji berries, or whatever)
a splash of vanilla (I just dump a wee bit in the lid and toss that in)

Mix the dry bits in your mug.  Put in the wet bits and mix those too.  Make sure you get around the bottom edges of the mug.  Microwave 2.5 minutes.  Eat.  Repeat whenever you have a fancy for cake.

My house is December-ized.

My friend Kayleigh came over last night to help put up all three of my Christmas decorations and drink hot cocoa.  'Tis the season.

So I'm sitting in the front room waiting for her to get there and stealing the Santa-hats from these hideous dollarstore snowmen I bought when I worked in daycare, and Joel comes in all, What are you cackling about in here?  And I'm all, Hee hee hee I put hats on the ducks.

Adorablemente, and you know it.

And then Kayleigh arrived and we set up the teeny tree (with the huge balls [hee])

and the teeny nativity set from my mom

and swapped out the current rotating-couch-quilt with the specifically-Christmas-themed-couch-quilt.

All of our decorations are still teeny (except the balls [hee]) even though we live in a very house-sized house, because this will be our last Christmas in this house-sized house and many of our future houses will be teeny-house-sized.

Speaking of Santa hats (we were earlier, right?) I have hit two dollar stores looking for a smallish Santa hat for Sam Skellington (and also perhaps a beard) but no dice.  Diceless, these trips have been.  I am exactly one dollar store away from buying some felt and making my own damned hat.  How am I not able to find a smallish-but-not-teeny hat?  If Sam were capable of looking depressed, he would.

Aw, he doesn't have a frown in him.  I'll find you a hat yet, skinny man.

Why can't sitting in my paper-writing chair feel this amazing?

The weather has finally and officially turned, which means that when I go running I am effectively combining two things I hate: running and being cold.  (I tried running in the gym but that also combines two things I hate: running and being bored.  PLUS then I have to get to the gym.)

I hate running.  I hate running in the cold so much more than I hate running.  I hate the searing lungs, I hate the nasty way everything feels on your cold skin afterwards, I hate that I have to wear all of the things.

But running makes me feel like the healthiest person in the world, and that's not a feeling I take lightly.  If there was anything that made me feel half as good as running does, I would do THAT instead, and do it twice.

So me and my bad knee and my stupid socks and my headband will be out there, running and hating it and waiting for spring.

I am available upon request.

I'm going to carry NaBloPoMo as far into December as momentum will take me.  I promise that the next three weeks will be very boring.  Today, for example, I am writing a paper.

I am also listening to Christmas music, because it is the 1st.  Joel always tries to sneak them in before the 1st but I want to still be enjoying them by the 25th, so I'm pretty Nazi-riffic about it.

I always listen to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Eve/Sarajevo as my kick-off carol, because even though it's awful and hokey and super-lame, I love it unreservedly.  It's like that song they pipe through the speakers when a sports team is taking the field/rink/court, it gets me all pumped up for the season.  Plus, the video is exceedingly Soviet-Russia (in Soviet Russia, bells carol you!).

Embedding is disabled on that video, alas.  So you'll have to click the link, crank your computer speakers, and rock out to some awesomely bad-ass Carol of the Bells.  Do it.

This, also, was a good run.

Please join me in bidding a fond farewell to my bottle of Chili Amor, which I bought for a dollar in Mexico in the summer of 2009.

Chili Amor has been the backbone of all my tex-mex dishes for the last year and some, including but not limited to tonight's enchiladas.

So long, C-A.  You will be replaced by a generic store-brand hot sauce, but you will not be forgotten.

Shopping and bread!

Oh my oh me, shopping and bread.

The snow rained out just in time for my sister (and her entire female in-law contingent) to descend on Victoria for Black Friday.  Apparently this is a thing now, where Canadian stores will have sweet deals for American Black Friday.  The crowds haven't yet caught on.

The in-laws do this every year, so they are very strategeric about it.  We met for lunch on Friday, where boo and I shared a quesadilla and got matching grease stains on our jeans.

This is why you can't take us places.  Anyway, then we went to Hillside Mall for three hours, and Bluenotes was having a half-off everything sale which ruined us for every other sale.  Alas.  Then we went to Mayfair Mall for four hours, and then some of the cousins went out to a movie while boo and I went home to have brownies and tea and pass out watching Disney's Robin Hood, because seven hours of shopping is Serious Business.

Saturday morning we had Darren's cousin Michelle over and made Cap'n Crunch-breaded French Toast, which probably needs to be fried in butter rather than a Pam'ed pan because it's difficult to cook the eggy-bread-bits without burning the Cap'n. 

We needed the fortification because Saturday was as long if not longer, shop-wise.  We all hit up Value Village and to Chintz & Co, and after about eight seconds boo and I were done.  The Contingent was just catching its second wind but we were fresh out of winds so we moseyed around Chintz, sitting on all the expensive furniture while the staff gave us side-eye.

This is also why you can't take us places.  We had Pagliacci's bottomless bread (also soup, but soup is just an excuse to eat bread amirite?) for lunch and then hit up the Bay Center, which was a mistake because nothing looks good on you when you have bread-body.  It was dispiriting.

Anywhatever, we had a few hours to kill before the In-Law Contingent was going out for dinner and a show, so we wandered around downtown with Michelle and talked a chocolatier into giving us free samples and staggered through the Festival of Trees.

So many lights numb the mind.  Bekah and Michelle left for dinner and I wandered my weary self home to eat the rest of the Pagliacci bread and slip into a bread-coma.  There was a short but vigorous hike Sunday morning to counter-act the bread products, and also so boo could meet Chelsea and Shannon (and Seamus) and so I could sweat into my new hoodie.  Won't be returning that one now.

Good sisterday weekend, bundtling.  Thank your In-Law Contingent for absorbing me into itself.

That was a good run.

We knew it couldn't last, this non-stop blogging business.  To be fair, I ate nothing but bread this weekend, and that'll do the strongest soul in. 

Pagliacci's, you are my fried, tasty nemesis.

Many doin's a-transpired this weekend, but I accidentally have a quiz tomorrow and need to go read a trashy Gothic novel very quickly.

It is still snowing very hard.

I have a paper to write today and normally the snow would be incredibly helpful because it's as good as excuse as any for not going outside but I have been looking forward to this sisterday weekend and if this keeps up boo will be trapped on the mainland and there will be no French Cap'n Toast Crunch. 

I'm usually a fan, Snow, but you chose a lousy time.

To cheer us all up, here's a video from this last summer of us getting ice cream in Istanbul.  Sunshine!  Cold treats!  I will not tell you the story of how the little guy tried to cheat us out of our moneys afterwards.  Instead, enjoy his tricksey performance.




There is a marching band at the end because I'm still figuring out how the youtubes work.  The internet is hard, yo.

NaBloPoMo needs to be in a month that is not November

Today I went for a run at the gym instead of outside (remember how boring that is?) and worked on a paper and made jalapeno-cheese bread and single-handedly stopped it from snowing with my mind (I know, the snow is festive and lovely, but if it keeps up there will be no sisterday adventures this weekend and I have my heart set on breading some French toast in Cap'n Crunch) and all of these things make for tedious blogging, so you get (as usual) a picture of my dinner.

Don't act like you aren't jealous.

I cannot blog right now.

It is cold and snowy, so we are going to build a fort in the bed and drink cocoa and watch Toy Story 3.

I need to start wearing mittens over my gloves.

I was doing eleventy loads of laundry yesterday and after I thought I'd done I found some towels that needed washing and was all, Feh, it's been a while since I've washed ALL MY PANTS.  So I washed the towels and all my pants and dried them and when the buzzer buzzed I thought, I need to go get those otherwise I will not have pants tomorrow.  But instead I went and opened a bag of chips.

This morning I woke to clear, cold-looking skies and considered going downstairs to get pants but we are currently embroiled in a battle with the basement troll where we are passive-aggressively trying to get him to stop leaving the door open all the time on account of it is winter.  We have sense on our side but he is armed with pure, unadulterated crazy, so.  I opted not to complicate things by entering his lair before noon, and wore a dress with tights.

I totally chose unwisely.  It dumped snow while I was in class and continued to dump snow while I walked to the gym (aside: as I'm walking to the gym this guy is like, Only in Victoria would someone be using an umbrella in the snow.  And I was like, What an odd thing to say.  Right?  Maybe not everyone has an umbrella on them AT ALL TIMES but I am from Vancouver, where it rains all of the days, and if you have an umbrella on you and it's precipitating you will use it, right?  This is not just me?  Bizzare man) and my knees froze and two buses passed me because they were full and people who claim to love the snow obviously do not take public transit and I will not be leaving the house until this is done.

We are terrible at procuring booze.

Joel and I took the evening off last night to watch the Canucks game, and because we haven't got cable we have to watch them online, which usually means that we see the same commercial every commercial break.  Last night the confluence of a sloppy first period and the same AA commercial played maybe nine times convinced us that a few beers would help the rest of the game go down easier.

There are two liquor stores maybe four blocks from our house, and then a BC Liquor maybe six blocks past that, and as we're driving to the closer of the first two stores (closer only because it's on our side of the street) we're discussing whether it's worth driving the extra six blocks for the slightly cheaper booze.

I don't know if it's the HST or what, but six-packs at our closest store are exceedingly expensive now, so (looking very shifty, I'm sure) we left empty-handed and drove to the BC Liquor.  But because it was Saturday and nearly 8:00 pm, the BC Liquor store was closed.

We swung back to the closest stores, this time going to the one across the street, and made a selection only to almost NOT BE SOLD TO because I hadn't brought ID.  Because we were just nipping out to the store(s).  And Joel had his.  The gal is like, I have to ID both people if they're shopping together, so I'm all, Fine.  I don't know this guy, I am just going to go stand outside for no reason.  Joel's like, I will meet you in the car, person-that-I-do-not-know.

After I left the lady hemmed and hawed and finally sold Joel his beer, and we went back to watch the Canucks lose 7-0.  You were right, AA commercial.  Alcohol has lost its magic.

I wasn't kidding about the wands.

Some of you may remember Sam as that girl with all the expensive shoes but little did you know that she also has wands.  Three of them.

Sam and Claire are enormous HP fans, and I am totally willing to throw on a pair of round glasses and stand in the cold for half an hour for a good cause.

They let us in at 6:00 for the 7:00 showing, and an hour is a long time to kill so Sam and I ran around causing a ruckus

and choosing sides

which culminated in a duel

that I clearly won.

Both these treats are well-deserved.

Starbucks has a 2-for-1 deal on their holiday beverages between 2 and 5 pm for the next three days, which I know is like the most specific deal ever, but I like to get at least one peppermint mocha in my body per season AND both Joel and I had the afternoon off school AND had mad homework to do.  So.  I wrote 3000+ words of sloppy term paper and drank this delicious baby on the (semi) cheap!

Now I'm going to grab my wand and go see Harry Potter.  It's...not actually my wand, and I'm not actually bad-ass-core enough to wait in the cold to see HP the day after it opens, but I have friends who are and I like doing things with people who are keen enough to bring their own wands.  And to bring me one as well.

Two posts in one day!

I am a blitzkrieg. 

I just wanted to slap on my smug face because I know that it's rain-snow-slush-sleeting in Vancouver today, and though Victoria may be inconveniently located and expensive and snooty, this is what it looks like out my office window right now:

I need to rub this in now, because the next time you are taking public transit and your bus gets you to where you want to go without making you change eighteen times, you can think of me and laugh and laugh.

Why I can't stop watching Glee even though it is SO BAD now.

See!  Here I am, and it's not even 9.

So.  I really only watch, like, three shows (four since I remembered that 30 Rock is legitimately funny and not just a time-kill) and all of them are half-hour comedies because I don't have the attention span or the emotional endurance for dramas. 

Glee is an hour (44 minutes sans ads) but I forgive it this because it has SINGING and DANCING and the first season was full of heart-breaking teenage drama and I cried a lot (remember when Finn thought Quinn's baby was his and he had to tell his mom that he'd gotten a girl knocked up and was going to have to give up his dreams of a football scholarship and college and stay in that two-horse town to raise his baby and then he sang I'll Stand By You to the baby's sonogram?  Me = a soggy mess).

The latter half of the first season slid slightly downhill, but this season outright stinks.  Things that I hate:

• Mr Schuester
• Any scene or storyline involving Mr Schuester
• The way they make Schuester out to be this rad guy when all he makes are awful decisions
• The way they've reduced each character to a token issue (Mercedes = food, Kurt = teh gays, Rachel = being domineering and then realizing that she's domineering and then getting over herself until the next episode when she's domineering again)
• Rachel and Finn as a couple when, before they started dating, all their interactions were exceedingly negative and yet Finn was still all, I want to be with you
• Schuester rapping
• Schuester singing at all, really
• How all they do is complain about the budget and yet their numbers get bigger and costumeyer and the other night they sang Singing in the Rain in actual, indoor rain.  I know it's not a real high school glee club, but it used to actually look like one

Reasons, on the other hand, I can't quit it

• Brittany.  Her schtick might get old eventually, but for now 'When I pulled my hamstring I went to a misogynist' is the best thing that ever happened to that show.  Also she dances like a dervish.
• Sue.  Obviously.
• Figgins
• I actually quite like where they're going with Kurt right now
• Allllllll right the singing and dancing.  As much as I can't stand Schuester and Rachel only has two settings (Petulant and Broadway) and that's easily half the numbers right there, the group bits are usually very fun and I really like show choir.
• Uncle Jesse as Carl

Which leads me into my next, more prolongued bit about Schuester and why I hate him, because I had a serious problem with him chasing Emma in season one while he was still married and the show being like, This is a fine thing for him to be doing because his wife is clearly crazy.  See how much the crazy?  So his philandering is totally fine.

Which, yes, the wife is crazy.  I'm not thrilled that she's back, but I'm even less thrilled that Schuester is all, I will sleep with you and then turn you away again because you, crazy lady, clearly need more heartbreak in your life.  Also, I will continue to pursue Emma even though she is HAPPY and HEALTHY with Uncle Jesse (who is surprisingly hilarious) and I want to sabatoge her emotional growth.  But I love her, so it's ok.

Let us not even start on the Never Been Kissed episode where Beiste was all, A kiss is a symbol of affection and trust and ALL SORTS OF GOOD MEANINGFUL THINGS and Schuester is like *pity kiss* which misses the point entirely of what she was saying.

But she went for it!  They always go for it.  Everything Schuester does is portrayed as misguided at worst, and last episode made a point of having the Glee-sters go on about how awesome he is.  The guy is a dick.  Everyone on the show has made a few unwise decisions so far, but Schuester repeatedly makes an ass of himself and no one seems to notice.

So I guess that's my beef. 

This post is about my dinner.

I made meatloaf last week and it was delicious but it turns out that a giant loaf of meat is too much for two people and there's really no time in the day when a leftover slab of meat sounds like a good time, so today I made a meatloaf pizza for dinner.  Experimental repurposement!  It was pseudo-delicious but it only used up maybe a third of the leftover loaf so we'll be having pasta and meat(loaf) sauce in the near future.

I swear tomorrow I will not leave this daily posting business until it's late and I'm annoyed because I took 42 minutes off to watch Glee and I always forget how I kind of hate that show now.  Tomorrow I will write you a post that wasn't about my dinner.  It'll probably be about why I can't quit Glee even though it sucks so bad.

I almost forgot you were here.

I have oodles of work to do but Joel is on-call tonight and I just got back from drinks with my theory class (nerdiest beer I ever drank) and I just remembered how funny 30 Rock is so I might spend the evening burning through Season 4, which I appear to have missed entirely.

Sometimes more is more.

I made cookies today but I forgot that I was only making a half-batch and put in the full allotment of add-ins.

The butter and sugar is basically just acting as a binder now for all the white chocolate and craisins, much in the same way that baby carrots are simply vehicles for getting ranch to your mouth. 

They are not terrible.