Happy National S’mores Day

Hey There Sweets,

So I learned from Lauren Conrad‘s twitter feed that today is National S’mores Day. Who knew? In honor of the day I’m going to share my three most memorable s’mores moments.

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1. I was twelve and three days into a spring break camping trip with the parentals. The glory of catching my first catfish was fading fast and being the cool kid that I was, I didn’t have a cell phone yet. Needless to say the boredom was creeping in like your mother in your bedroom when you bring a boy home for the first time. Completely unwanted, but expected. As the sun nestled itself against the Blue Ridge blanket of mountains, the girl in the next cabin came over and invited me to join her family for s’mores. Her name was Anna and we became quick friends. On the sixth day of our camping trip I woke up to a sticky note on our door with Anna’s address. I had my first pen pal.

2. Another camping trip, another spring break. I was eighteen and in love. I’d helped him pitch the tent, and watched him up blow up an air mattress. If he’d proposed right then, stooped with the air pump between his knees, his biceps flexing on the down counts, I would’ve said yes. We took a break to cool down in the lake, our skin smelling like off brand bug repellent, sweat and musky lake water. When we made fire, we high-fived before he scooped me up into one of those hugs where they lift you off the ground and you feel like you belong in an american eagle ad. Probably extremely resemblent of the first time man-made fire, I’m willing to bet. I ate the marshmallows faster than he could roast them, but when we finally did make a few good s’mores, we wondered why in the world people make these in the woods. It’s messy as hell, just like love I suppose.

3. It was my second semester of college. Flanked by my two best friends, I knelt in soot at the opening of an outdoor fireplace on campus. We’d bought fire wood at the Kroger up the road, but hadn’t splurgged for the easy start kind that’s marinated in whatever to make it faster to get the fire up and going. Big mistake. Despite my experience starting a fire with the boy, I didn’t know a damn thing. Neither did my two best girls, obviously. It took us forty-five minutes and an entire roll of paper towels (I’d seen my dad use them when grilling) to finally get a flame worthy enough of roasting a couple marshmallows. We let out a few celebratory howls, licked the inevitable mess off our fingers and cheersed to our womanhood. Stuffing the little chocolatey sandwiches into our mouthes we discussed how we could make it in the wilderness… with a candle-lighter and a few dozen paper towels… It was a bonding moment for sure.

One last thing, a little tip if you will: Next time you make s’mores, try a few with Reeses instead of chocolate bars, so freaking delicious, you can thank Anna for that one.

xoxo,
-E

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