There were a lot of serious life issues going on over the past two weeks. I felt I needed to write... needed to vent. Yet, I was scared to sit at a keyboard, afraid of what would bleed out through the blinking cursor. I haven't written a thing in almost two weeks.
Thankfully, a breakthrough this week as I went through the motions of a "normal" day: I was returning from grocery store laden with bags when a neighbor's sweet lab came bounding toward me. Her owners and I marvel at the bouncy labrador’s timing skills. I am the Milk-Bone lady. I think she still loves me without them, but so much more with them. I laughed as she stuck her wet nose into my bags. And it was her lucky day—I just so happened to have a brand new box of Milk-Bones. I put by bags down in the grass and opened the box. She gulped the crunchy bone down, tail wagging. Her owner shook his head and said, "She would sell her soul for a Milk-Bone".
We laughed and I went inside, dropping my bags on the kitchen table. Snowy sat patiently waiting for her Milk-Bone.
As I began emptying the grocery bags, my M&Ms spilled out onto the counter. I didn't even make it through the grocery store before I had ripped open the bag. I laughed out loud. The M&Ms are my Milk-Bones. It shouldn't have surprised me that the little chocolate discs would be what busted the clot that kept me from writing.
M&Ms....They have kept me sane when pregnant, stable every 28 days, and sinful on occasions. We go back a long ways. I even have family stories about the M&Ms.
As children, my two younger siblings and I would have to share a bag. There was always an argument over who the "counter" was going to be. We watched the count so closely, we could feel each others breath on our crossed arms at the table. The amount hardly ever came up even, so the one or two leftover would be fought over as well. If my brother was counting, he normally ended the argument by tossing the extras in his mouth. We would be mad at him for hours.
Our allowance at the time was 25 cents a week. I was one happy kid when it went to 50 cents! There was never any question about putting the money in a piggy bank or saving for some jump rope with lights in the handle... uh uh, that wasn't me. I was all about instant gratification. That raise in allowance covered the cost of a bag of M&Ms and two Atomic Fireballs! Fireballs were for later. But the M&Ms... I'd pour them out into my sweaty palms, gone 10 minutes into the ride home.
Well, the malady ensued when my copycat little sister decided that M&Ms were also her favorite. She was resourceful, into delayed gratification. She would also buy a bag of M&Ms. After I finished my bag in the car, I would look over at her gingerly holding her unopened bag and smiling smugly at me... I was pissed. I would tell her, "You really need to eat them. They are just going to turn to mush in this hot car." She just smiled.
Hours later, that bag of M&Ms would sit on the dresser, taunting me. God, my stomach twisted and I swore I was dying of hunger. In my sweetest voice: "Sister? Can I have some of your M&Ms?" The answer was always a confident shake of the head. A few choice words and I'd leave the room. Hours after that, I'd hear her rip open the bag in the bottom bunk bed in the dark. Crunch, Crack...Cruuunch. This drove me insane. You don't crunch M&Ms! You let them dissolve in your mouth until they were melting, then eat them. I couldn't stand the M&M abuse any longer and cried out, "Sister, I will give you whatever you want for the rest of the bag right now." The bag appeared at the side of my bunk. I snatched quickly lest she change her mind. "Wash the dishes on my turn for 4 times." she said. I agreed. She hated washing dishes more than anything. Well, she didn't trust me and the next thing that got passed up to the bunk was her Bible and a pen. "Write it and sign on the back page," she instructed. I obliged and signed away by light of the moon streaming through the window. That Bible held M&M promises for years (obviously I never embraced the delayed gratification lesson from this). But, eventually I got a job and Sister had to do dishes again.
They aren't iconic for me. I don’t collect M&M memorabilia or follow the M&M NASCAR racer. I just want them when I want them. They have been on every diet I have even been on. OMG, in a weak moment I decided to abstain from chocolate for Lent two years ago. Oh, how I longed for a crinkly bag. I even searched the candy shelves for a replacement. Nerds, Laffy Taffy, a Fun Size bag. Well, I will tell you this: IT WAS NOT FUN. I contemplated taking them back for misrepresentation. Forty days and 40 nights. No, I won't sell my soul for M&Ms. But, I guess I did barter again, didn't I?
They sit by my happily tapping keyboard now. Oh, and Sister and I now share. On a recent trip to North Carolina, two bags sat in the console.
