it's funny how some foods evoke certain memories in my life.
the mere sight of fig newtons bring me back to my summers in elkhart, WI.
my grandfather's best friend had a house there on a lake with a few boats. the house had a huge screened in patio that sat above the treetops and the house had stairs straight down to the dock. there were bunk beds and a mata hari pinball machine.
and on the boat with orange and yellow life vests, grandpa would let us sit on his lap and drive the boat (and by "drive," i mean steer, and by "steer" i mean holding onto the wheel and screaming like crazy even though we were in a wide open space where there was nothing to run into, even if we did want to get gutsy and turn the thing).
and we'd bring ham sandwiches and pop (yes, we call it pop) and fig newtons. and after we'd finish tubing, mom would bring us in and we'd eat as all the food turned to mush in our fingers because our hands were still wet from the ride.
it's no wonder that when i eat fig newtons that i kind of want to run them under water before i put them in my mouth. they're just not as good when they're dry.