I'm newly smitten with Ritz Crackers. It's as if, in a springtime long ago, a beautiful French croissant suddenly fell in love with a sturdy American saltine. It was a surprise, and certainly a forbidden liaison. And yet, a whirlwind courtship and marriage was then inevitable, followed by the arrival of boxes full of round little cherubic children named for the place of their conception, the famous Ritz Hotel in Paris, in the 1st arrondissement, overlooking the Place Vendôme at number 15. These delightful children now bring to us the best of their parents, in a magical mix perfectly made for our own new springtime snacks.
And now, I'll end the metaphor, so as not to seem like a character in a Greek Myth or Germanic fable when I begin to eat the children. I enjoy my round delights festooned with Sun Nut Butter and Bonne Maman orange marmalade, and paired with a hot dark roasted coffee. C'est bon!
I can't always just talk about philosophy here. I like to share whatever moves or enlightens me. But now, perhaps, I'll go read some Camus. C'est la vie.
