Scary

I'll admit it.  I am a complete chicken about certain things in life, especially those involving potential body sacrifice, such as sky diving, scuba diving, bungee jumping, and fast drivers on mountain roads that lack guardrails.   Now other things that some folks find equally scary -- like speaking before a group of 300 people -- don't phase me in the least.

Since coming to Paris, however, I've found a whole new class of scary situations, for example, clothing boutiques that have only about ten items displayed on hangars and several pint sized Parisiennes just waiting to see what my very American sized body might fit into.  Or realizing mid sentence that I have no idea the correct gender of the noun I'm about to use and I've only got a 50 percent chance of getting it right.

Recently, I set out to make a German chocolate cake for my husband's birthday and the recipe in the Joy of Cooking called for sweetened chocolate.   I didn't think twice, set out for the supermarket to stock up on flour, sugar, eggs, and chocolate, only to be confronted with this:

Now that is scary. 

When I melted the chocolate, it was clear from the gloppy mess, that I had picked the wrong type.  No problem, I beat that chocolate into submission, whipped it into the cake, and voila!  It came out just fine.

Even though I still have no idea what I should be looking for when it comes to "sweetened chocolate", I suppose I learned how to conquer my fears.  Should I take up sky diving next?