Mayonnaise in Her Blood, M&M’s in the Safe: Part One

I come from a long line of emotional eaters. My maternal great grandmother was so eager to eat her chicken that she choked to death on a chicken bone. My paternal great grandfather started the company Blue Plate Mayonnaise and Wesson Oil (mother’s one-time heated and irrational statement on my failing social status was “I mean YOU are the Blue Plate Mayonnaise Heiress!! SHE (other, more successful debutante) is not!!” -no mother, claiming mayonnaise in your daughter’s blood doesn’t help her status). My aunt told me she ate all but 2 reese’s pieces in a 1 lb. bag because she was TOO JOYFUL one day. We were all rewarded or punished with sweets growing up, and between my 6 family members, an entire half-gallon of Blue Bell’s “Moollenium Crunch” didn’t stand a chance to rest in the freezer.

My sister just had her baby’s one-month check up. She found out that she produces enough milk for TRIPLETS. Quite literally, it is IN our blood folks.

Mom will not keep sweets in the house anymore because she got tired of having a sickness she invented called “the sugar shakes” which means her intake of sugar is making her hands shake, she needs protein and she needs it NOW before she faints (my sister will talk about her sugar shakes as well and I have to remind them this sickness is called hypoglycemia). Occasionally, when I’m visiting from out of town, we will finish dinner and I’ll ask for something sweet. Mom says “I don’t have anything but your father might have some peanut m&m’s in the safe.” That’s right: next to important papers, random valuables and money, there is the shining golden bag of goodness. Guarded by steel and a code.

The funny thing is there’s a huge world of desserts out there. Creme Brulee.* Heavy whipping cream.** Nutella. Stone Ground local Chocolates. Heck there’s a rice crispy treat in my kitchen infused with goo goo clusters. I’ll spare you any more desserts and long-winded side stories (plus I can’t really think of anymore right now: my coffee is miserably failing, and my blood sugar’s low wink wink).

In part 2 I will address these issues: why does my family lock up M&M’s and how can this possibly relate to music and creating? But first, I need something sweet, be right back.


*thank you Amelie for making it both sensual and absolutely adorable to crack the hardened sugar shell

**ridiculous side note: one time my father told us that Houston’s used real cream for coffee. I got the brilliant idea to blow bubbles with my straw in the ceramic cream cup until it turned into whip cream. My siblings and I continued this weird tradition for years after our warm 5-nut brownie plate had been literally licked clean and while my parents drank their coffee, until my mother couldn’t stand the humiliation anymore and told us to stop).