I was listening to Where’d You Go Bernadette on audible the other day when I was suddenly struck with a very strong desire for a Cinnabon. The narrator was describing being enticed by the wafting smell of Cinnabon and then eating it…I don’t know what got me. I think it was her description of it being a “puff of deliciousness.” Let me just quote her because it was such a great paragraph:
“The Cinnabon wasn’t going to eat itself, so I sat. Trams came and went as I pulled apart the puff of deliciousness, enjoying every bite, until I’d realized I’d forgotten napkins. Both my hands were plastered with icing. My face, too. In one of my vest pockets was a handkerchief. I held up my hands, surgeon like, and asked a lady, “Please could you unzip this?” The pocket she unzipped contained only a book on Antarctica. I lifted it out and wiped my hands and, yes, my face, with it’s clean pages…”
I remember exactly where I was walking with the dogs when I heard that passage read. I was standing by the dog drinking fountain by the tennis courts with the courts to my left and the lake to my right. I was heading home. It is of no importance where I was other than it makes me laugh that my lizard brain paid such excellent attention. I suddenly wanted a Cinnabon very badly.
I haven’t had a Cinnabon in over twenty years. I think I’ve only had two in my entire life! I had no reason to want one until I heard that passage. First of all, I rarely let myself eat giant pastries (except maybe an apple fritter once a year) because I am convinced they will give me diabetes. (It’s really a crying shame). And secondly, they don’t sell them where I live. The nearest mall that had a Cinnabon store was 23 minutes away.
Oh, you know we did.
We made an excursion of it! I waited for the girls to get out of school and then Lubna and I kidnapped them and headed off to the destination mall. It was a total adventure and completely fun because it felt like we were doing something forbidden. Neither Lubna nor the girls had ever had a Cinnabon. The cashier laughed at us when I told her so. We were Cinnabon virgins, except I was like Madonna and *like* a Cinnabon virgin because it had been so many years.
Was it as good as I anticipated? Totally! The liberal sticky smears of cinnamon sugar between unraveling pieces of warm yeasty bread, the ooey, gooey frosting… it was so good! It was amazing, plastic fork and all.
The girls were starving because they had skipped lunch at school so they insisted on having orange chicken from Panda Express and some kind of Philly cheese steak sandwich from the food court BEFORE they had their Cinnabons. I know, so boring like that. What kind of kids want desert second?!
Sadly, by the time the girls got around to trying their Cinnabons, they were full from over-eating their late lunch and the excitement was definitely not as brilliant and vivid as it was for me. I was meanwhile having a full-on psychedelic trip with all my pleasure centers going off in my brain. But whatever. At the end of the day we were a pack of laughing, silly girls hanging out at the mall on a school day. It was completely novel.
Everyday I write down three things in my journal that would make today great.
Eating a Cinnabon was on today’s list.
I dare you to add it to your list. Or better yet, make some from scratch.