Neb V was over the other night for lentils- they were a bit too tomato-y but edible over a bit of Moroccan couscous. Buzz was salivating over his inane idea of eating the neighbor’s cat. Honestly- that cat weighs more than he does and with flattened ears and a raised paw a cat can send him away screaming like a baby who just lost his last piece of candy. Last time Mary’s cat got within two feet of him she sent him into a screaming episode that took him in a 20 foot circle around her yard. Ridiculous little dog.

Anyway- Neb V was making couscous. She was looking in the cabinet for a measuring cup when she stumbled upon my Nutella. This is not my first mention of Nutella- it is certainly like a nectar vastly popular in Europe and shamefully ignored in the American market. I had a Nutella crepe in Paris- heavenly- really. I found a jar at the international food mart, Zam Zam, which is just down the street. I had no idea that Zam Zam was an international food mart; I just had to stop in one day to find out what on earth it was. I mean just the name sounds so exciting- “Zam Zam!”

Neb V said, “Oh! Nutella- it reminds me of my childhood, growing up in Europe, I used to love Nutella for dinner.” My first thought was, ‘Oh, growing up in Europe, it sounds so- you know- fancy. “I grew spent my formative years in EUROPE darling!” My second thought was quick on first thought’s heals, ‘You can’t eat Nutella for dinner!’ I mean, anything is possible, but ewww! Nutella is a speadable chocolate-hazelnut jar of sweet yumminess. It has the consistency of peanut butter and the meltiness of milk chocolate.

She said it all depends how you go about your Nutella. She said she loved it with bread and butter. Sounded kinda ick to me, but what do I know? I didn’t grow up in Europe.

The Nutella episode got me to thinking about my childhood, and what reminds of my formative years. Gill Village- not quite so fancy as Europe to be sure, I dare say public housing never is.

I thought maybe generic items could be my thing- the old kind with black and white labels that actually said “generic” on them. Does anyone even make real generic items? I think it has all moved to store brands. My next memory was used condoms in the play ground- but no I don’t frequent play grounds much any more- and I have no occasion to come across used condoms either. Free government cheese? Unlike M&Ms, which melted in your mouth, not in your hands, that stuff didn’t melt anywhere, for anything- it was dreadful.

“Green Things” remind me of that time. There was a Green Thing in each lot. I have no idea what those Green Things were; some kind of electrical boxes. Most of them were about two and a half feet tall and two feet wide. There was a big Green Thing in the lot next to mine- we called it “The Big Green Thing,” imaginative group of youngsters that we were. If you touched a bolt on top of The Big Green Thing with one hand, and touched the back side of The Big Green Thing with your other hand, you could feel a shock run from one hand, across your chest to the other hand. One day we decided to scientifically measure the strength of the current. Our science determined that the current was strong enough to run through 4 children if we all held hands and one touched a bolt and the other touched the back of The Thing.

Who pays attention to green electrical boxes any way? Have you noticed them? They look like this:

No- I finally came up with THE thing that reminds me of that time of my life. Cinnamon rolls. Not just any kind of natty-day old-rubbery icing-cinnamon rolls. I mean real, fluffy, hot, sticky, sweet, fresh cinnamon rolls. My mother didn’t like to bake much, but she was an expert at cinnamon rolls. There was no telling when the cinnamon roll mood might strike- (just one of the many unexpected pleasures of living with an undiagnosed manic depressive.) When the cinnamon rolls appeared, there were no rules about how many we could eat- because we all knew, including my mother, that cinnamon rolls could not be saved- they were only good hot out of the oven.

I attribute my weakness for Cinnabon and green electrical boxes to these formative childhood memories.