Or at least that’s what the Auntie Anne woman said when she called me last week.

Well, she didn’t say it exactly like that. She said it more like, Hi! I’m so-and-so, director of such-and-such from the Auntie Anne Pretzel Company and I saw the blog post that you wrote on Saturday!

I don’t think she could’ve sounded more sweet and bouncy if she’d been eating a Snickers bar and jumping on a trampoline.

She proceeded to tell me that so-and-so, director of such-and-such, was also in the office with her and, if it was okay with me, they’d like to put me on speaker phone—the door was shut—would that be okay?

I said sure, and we proceeded to have a congenial three-way chat about pretzels and poison. Turns out, the first person I talked to on the phone a couple weeks back gave me false information and the second person gave me no information. Those two things weren’t a problem—at least not for Auntie Anne’s—but then I went and blogged about it, and well, that just wasn’t good PR for Auntie Anne’s. Not that they said that, of course. In fact, they were most gracious, never once requesting that I remedy the false information I’d unwittingly posted about them. And as a final conciliatory touch, they offered to send me a complimentary box of do-it-yourself Auntie Anne’s pretzels, yippee!

Oh, I almost forgot! I suppose I ought to share what I learned about whether or not Auntie Anne’s uses lye with their pretzels. That’s kind of the point of this post, after all.

Well, the cheery ladies were very clear with me: they do NOT use lye. No sodium hydroxide/poison/caustic soda—none whatsoever—in their pretzels. (They do, however, dip their pretzels in a baking soda solution.)

So there you have it. The mystery of the mall pretzels has been solved. They are poison-free! Yay!

Not that I actually think that’s a good thing. I happen to adore the more complicated flavor of a poisoned pretzel. But at least now the truth is out and all you mall pretzel eaters can rest assured that your shop-till-you-drop snack hasn’t been dipped in any toxic substances.

Which means, if you want to experience an authentic German pretzel, you’ll have to don some goggles and gloves and make your own!

This same time, years previous: caramelized onions

This past week I took the kids on a 24-hour trip to a private country resort.

At the very start, the proprietess made us a fabulous dinner of organic whole foods: sauteed chard, garden potatoes, baked squash, and green beans. The kids stuffed themselves on the squash. I stuffed myself on the chard (and squash) (and potatoes). To finish off the meal, there was a lovely whipped cream-topped chocolate pudding.

There was an evening theater production of My Fair Lady, and then when we returned from the show (nigh about midnight) with thoughts of the rain in Spain strumming through our heads, plates of buttered toast and bowls of sectioned oranges were delivered to our bedroom chambers.

The following morning I was treated to a first-rate and oh-so-leisurely pedicure.

Seeing as the pedicure-giver is a study in OCD-ism, the treatment involved many steps: scraping, soaking, cuticle trimming, nail painting, and the final touch, a moisturizing treatment with two different creams.

My feet have never looked (and felt) better.

The resort offered other activities, as well.

There was wagon racing:

Bird watching:

Outdoor guitar picking, á la The Sound of Music:

Tree monkeying:

And sky canon-ball-ing:

Sky soaring:

Sky walking:

And sky…saluting?

And thus concludes the story of our 24-hour getaway.

This same time, years previous: a fast update, a bad day

There have been a lot of beer bottles decorating our house lately.

Actually, I think it’s only two but it feels like more since they’re always sitting around. My brother bought some bottles when he came this weekend (this is my brother—

the kids adore him), and I think we managed to collectively drank one with our soft pretzel supper.

But then I made beer cupcakes (the cake part was luscious, but the icing was a little too boozy for my tastes) and that was another bottle.

And then Sweetsie got the brilliant idea to rinse them out and top them off with water and walk around the house taking swigs of brown-bottled water. It was a little disconcerting, but I didn’t say too much.

Though now that I think of it, Miss Beccaboo walked into the kitchen the other day smoking a straw (or was it a stick?) so maybe I ought to be concerned?

Miss Beccaboo is still sewing. Though the other day I think she spent most of her sewing time taking apart the machine—as long as she cleans it all up (and doesn’t break anything), I stay mum.

Oh yes, and here’s the sock monkey she made.

Isn’t it darling?

Even though I can’t finish it off all the way (because I don’t know how), I’m done with my scarf.

To keep my hands occupied during evening reading, I picked up Yo-Yo’s cast-off knitting project and set to. I sat on the floor and knitted while Nickel quietly filled a couple feet of my yarn with slipknots, sneaky kid. (I’ve found him putting slipknots in electrical cords, too.)

Most mornings, over our breakfast of granola and yogurt, I read to the kids from this book.

It’s a collection of short stories about real-life peacemakers.

I crave stories like these—the stories stand out in stark contrast to the teachings of retaliation and me-me-me-isms that our culture would have us believe—and am always on the lookout for more. (Suggestions, anyone?)

Recently, we’ve been introduced to Professor Noggin, a card fact game.

I bought four games, but there are loads of others to choose from. How we play it is this: I read each kid a question and if they get the answer right, they get to keep the card. Simple, no? Questions are divided into easy and hard categories, so all four kids can play.

I like The Human Body game best, but the kids love Creatures of Myth and Legend—they kick my butt at that game.

This same time, years previous: oatmeal pancakes