Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I heard a familiar sound.  It was the door of the refrigerator, followed by a container being opened, followed by the unmistakable sound of a piece (or two) of hard chocolate being plunked on a plate.  (You may not keep yours in the fridge and therefore the sound of getting out chocolate may be a little foreign to you, but ’round here it is a familiar sound.)  Also somewhat vaguely, I saw the plate being trotted across the room.  The back door opened and closed.  Then opened and closed again.  I snapped to attention.

“Are you feeding your chocolate to the lizards again?!” My question was half in fun and half somewhat reproachful.  Chocolate ought not to be wasted on lizards.

“No!” My mom’s answer was half in fun and half somewhat sheepish at being caught.  “My lizards are very respectful.”

You see, her favorite way to melt chocolate is to set it out on the plate on a hot rock in the sun for a few minutes.  I’m still in awe of the fact the lizards (or the iguanas or other wildlife, for that matter) haven’t staked out the place every afternoon just waiting for her to bring them their snack. They do seem to know to leave her chocolate alone.  She must have trained them well.

Now that I think about it, our chocolate has to put up with a lot. Not only does it risk being discovered by lizards, it sometimes gets imposed upon to do silly things… like pose in a sea of pink.

And that’s not all.

My Raaka Smoked Chai also got the hot rock treatment (albeit only for a couple of seconds).  In my defense, it WANTED to pose there because it thought it would be pretty.  It TOLD me so.  (Either I’m crazy or I’m kidding.  You pick.)

My Paria bar had to precariously balance itself in a flowering bush while braving ants and small spiders.  (Photos pending.)

And the Brasstown Peppermint that just arrived is a little indignant because somebody (it wasn’t me!) called it a candy bar.  More than once.

It’s not easy being chocolate at my house.