A Simple Story About Caramel Apples

About 13 years ago, Scott and I and a few other couples from our newly married Ward decided to go up to Park City for the evening. We started out at the outlet mall and did a little shopping. Correction: All the other couples were doing some shopping, but Scott and I were only looking. You see I was not working, but doing my internship to finish school and Scott was working at Jiffy Lube. The money wasn't exactly rolling in so to speak. So I drooled over some black pants at the Gap that I'm sure were tapered and pleated. I wanted them, but didn't get them. In hindsight it was probably good I didn't buy them. They undoubtedly would have made me look like an ice cream cone from the waist down. Highly unflattering.

After watching them shop we went out to dinner on Main Street. That was the one thing we decided we could afford. After dinner we strolled on down the street and ended up at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory where we all oohed and awed at the yummy caramel apples they had displayed. Something like this.



They all decided to buy one for dessert. Scott and I opted out, since we were watching our money very, very closely. I'm not sure what happened, but Scott and I left the store while they all bought their apples. Probably so they wouldn't feel bad that they were all getting one and we weren't. And sure enough on our way home our good friend's Ben and Stacey presented us with an apple they had bought for us. Very nice of them to do this. We were slightly embarrassed.

Fast forward 13 years and Scott and I found ourselves in Park City for some alone time. We went out to dinner on Main street and then happened upon the same store with all the same caramel apples flaunting their goodness at us. Well not the exact same caramel apples, those would be gross. You understand what I am saying. And you know what we did? We bought one.




The End