it's funny how some things stick with you through the ages... when i was little (and dinosaurs still roamed da'earf) the school lunch was sixty-five cents. (it was that up until i was a senior, i think...) to me, as the baby muppet who knew nothing about counting or money, the magical words "sixty-five cents" meant nothing. mom had to tell me how to get the proper amount of lunch money in terms that a munchkin who doesn't know how to count past twenty can understand: a litany. "two quarters, a dime, and a nickel." i had to say that over and over... and it really meant nothing to me, just words. so much so, that long after i could count, i still hadn't made the money connection, until one day it all snapped, and in the fifth grade i suddenly understood why i needed two quarters a dime and nickel. [yes, i was a very very stoopid child.]
and so, in the now, i just finished the minestrone lunch in the cafe-ma-teria, but i was still hungry... craving... gold... fish... so i went to the vending machine on the first floor ---- BZZZT!! denied! so i hustled upstairs to the vending machine on the second floor... there they were, in their white and orange 1.5 ounce package, calling to me, luring me with their siren song of cheddary goodness (and crack, which we all know is the secret addictive ingredient)... selection 36... so i dig in my pocket, and then realize i need to know how many coins to sacrifice to the machine in order that it might drop my beloved dessicated quasi aquatic creatures down to the little bit where my itching fingers can grasp them...
next to the white-on-black selection numbers are the black on white numbers denoting price: sixty-five cents.
and, immediately, before my brain registers things like "65% of one dollar", "a little more than half of a dollar", "three years before my sister was born", "wasn't there a who album released in 65?", and other such instant associations the brain makes... one thing pops into my head: "two quarters, a dime, and a nickel", in that sing-song little muppet voice...
people who claim that what happened to you when you were little is inconsequential when you are older really really don't know what they're talking about. (either boring childhoods or so bad they're repressing it.)
and, incidentally, i noticed that behind my beloved packet of goldfish in slot 36 were several packets, not of goldfish, but of sour cream & chives flavor something-or-others. i got the last one! wow! woohoo! go, me! *does a little happy dance*
Mon Apr 17 12:18:19 2000