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When the news came that the Hostess factory was shutting down, there was a howl of pain in my house.  Not from the kids, but from the grown men. 

Which also immediately led to me bring dragged to the grocery store to clear the shelves of any Hostess related items. 

I ran across a picture of a Twinkie online in one of the multitude of articles on the subject. 

“Hmm….what kind of bread is that?” Paige inquired.

“That’s not BREAD!  It’s a TWINKIE!”  I was appalled at her ignorance. 

“What’s a twinkie?!” 

“See!  SEE?!”  Papa screamed.  Then he started mumbling something about a “whole generation”.  I was considering medicating him for a panic attack.  I mean, it’s Twinkies.  It’s not like a whole generation is going to grow up without fruit. 

I don’t know.  I’m a little leery to start with of a food that never expires. 

Farewell, Twinkies.  You will always hold a special place in America’s heart.  And, I heard that Bill Clinton buried some in a time capsule in 1999, so if we ever get desperate, we can always dig those up.  I’m sure they’re still good.   

Now, excuse me, Papa plans on putting in an order to Peapod for Hostess items.  He’s threatening something about needing all the space in the back of their large trucks to deliver everything.