Mar 12, 2011

Pretzel Heaven

There are only a few people who know this about me, so at the risk of sounding like an enormous Fatty McButter Pants, I'm going to tell you the story of my love for a certain bag of delicious pretzel pieces.

I discovered these morsels from heaven while the hubby was deployed and everyday they saved my bland work time lunches. I seriously could sit on the couch and eat at least a half a 10 oz bag by myself. Sad, I know. But in my defense...this snack is awesome! Why is it such a big deal to me you might ask? Truth is, I hated pretzels. Before I found this kind of pretzel, I wholeheartedly despised them (except for the infamous soft pretzel...that's a whole other ball game). I never could understand how so many kids and adults in America enjoyed munching on them. They are bland, aside from the salt, and seemed like such a lack luster snack. No thank you. Give me a box of crackers, nuts, or Baked Lays any day.

Then, one day, while walking through the Commissary I spotted them. I thought, "Hmmm, a pretzel flavored like it was a potato chip." I can totally hop aboard that train. So I bought them. My first bag of Snyder's of Hanover Southern Style Barbecue flavored pretzel pieces. It was love at first bite. From then on they had become a staple on my grocery list. After about a month or two into my divine discovery, I started noticing that my flavor was occasionally missing from the Commissary shelves. No biggie. I'll go to another grocery store and pick some up. Fat chance! They weren't in any other grocery store within a 40 mile radius. And I couldn't justify driving 40 miles for pretzels. Ice cream, maybe. Pretzels, no way. The Commissary was my only hope. So every week during my routine shopping trip, I would round that corner of the chip aisle with baited breath. Were they going to be here today? Am I going to have the best lunch ever this week? Again, I was let down. They had stopped carrying my pretzels. The only pretzels I would ever eat. Devastated is an understatement.

Now, I mentioned previously that only a few people knew of my pretzel obsession. My good friend, Ann, was one of few. Ann had witnessed me melt down in the chip aisle numerous times during our grocery shopping trips together. I would even call her and tell her my disgust to find my pretzels missing from the Commissary shelves (I know, I've got a problem. Do they have pretzel AA?) So Ann was well aware of how much these things meant to me. The next part of the story is why I love her.

I had almost given up on my favorite snack item when a husky FedEx delivery man dropped this off at my front door.

Holy moly! We've hit the mother load! A magnificent box filled with 12 over sized bags of my scrumptious pretzels!!! I almost died, and I definitely cried. Yep, you read that correctly. I cried over a box of pretzels. I was in complete disbelief. Then I found the note. It read,"Hope this is the right flavor! Enjoy!"

Unfortunately, the note was without a signature. Who could have facilitated this amazing act of kindness? I immediately looked at D and asked him if he had written a letter to the company (I had been contemplating doing just that a while ago, but chickened out). He said, "No way, must have been your Mom." I thought, maybe. But I had another idea. Ann. Sure enough, it was my sweet friend Ann. She did some amazing recon and got me the most thoughtful gift ever. Ann's got a giant hug and an equally large Plaza Azteca margarita (on the rocks!) with her name on it. Thank you Annie Pannie! Now excuse me...I'm off to devour some deliciousness.

***Disclaimer: This is in no way an endorsement for Snyder's of Hanover or the delicious pretzels they sell. This is just a story of a girl with a problem. But don't send help.***


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