Mexican Hot Chocolate Que bueno!

For the last several days, I've had a hankering for Hot Chocolate and while I knew I could slide, literally, up to Starbucks for theirs, I wasn't really up for that.  Then last night, a foodie post I subscribe to had a recipe for Mexican Hot Chocolate, and that just did it for me.  No, I didn't have the yummy chocolate bar of special Mexican chocolate, all crunchy with sugar, ground almonds, and other naughty things, but I did have cinnamon sticks, milk, Godiva ground chocolate and cocoa, so I just whipped up my own.  Ohhhhh, Lordy...to say it hit the spot would be a drastic understatement.  It was so good that a certain someone around here kept begging me to "taste it".  Really.  You think I'm dumb enough to fall for that after almost 32 years of marriage?  I know he's not capable of a sip of anything.  Especially if it's mine...he thinks mine always tastes better...'cause it does, but that's another story.  I laughed my head off watching him try to get me to share.  The stuff was all out, right there, and he could have made his own, but noooo...he wanted mine. (I would have made him one when I made mine but he wasn't available to ask, so snooze, ya loose, buddy.  And, yes, knowing him, I could have just made him one anyway, but torturing is waaaaay more fun.  Sometimes, it's what keeps you together for 32 years.  Watching the other person wheedle is just soooo entertaining.)

I went by to see mom yesterday and drop off some bottled waters--she only wants the little 8 oz. ones-- and some other girly supplies.  Every time I show up unannounced, with a load of stuff, she looks a little startled.  After thinking about it, I understood how she might feel.  But if I call first, she doesn't always answer.  I'm trying to be respectful of not overloading her, but also trying to keep her from running out of things.  Then there is my time, as well.  Making several runs a week is just not on my agenda so thus becomes the battle for balance.  Not too much--not too little--just right.  Damn....I feel like Goldilocks and the 3 bears.  She keeps wanting me to buy her orchid plants, but she keeps killing them with the heat set at 80 degrees and then not watering them.  (It's so hot in there I practically have to strip to spend anytime in her room with her, and I usually cut the heat down a little, for self preservation.  Plus, I think it may keep her warm but dehydrates the heck out of her.)  She told me yesterday "But you and Gretty can water them".  Oh, gad.  She's sitting right there.  If she couldn't walk, maybe.  But she can, and she needs to, so fagedaboudit.  We're going to buy her a fantabulous silk fake-o and go with that.  I just cannot torture a beautiful orchid plant.  Fred, yes.  An orchid?  Definitely not.