I didn’t remember until reading this prompt, walking across a Munich square eating a baked and honey saturated pastry that a girl from Nancy, France recommended. In my memory it was sort of like a Mexican churros and sort of like Indian gulab jamen. I never had it again, and I didn’t learn the German name, but so good.
Tag: memories
With No Hands
A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.
Oh humble law building… (You were a law building, right?)
A small rectangular building standing awkwardly on blacktop, I can’t quite imagine that parking lot without it.
To the building, I may have been just another kid on a sky blue 10-speed bike, but that building was my greatest triumph.
No Take Backs, Only Do Overs
If you were able to relive one day from the last 12 months, which day would it be — and why?
The day the Wee One was born was probably the biggest day of my life, but I don’t think that’s the day I would do over.
The Most Carmina Burana Time Of The Year!
During the month of November, I love to listen to Carmina Burana. Every year.
This tradition has roots in my college days.
Continue reading “The Most Carmina Burana Time Of The Year!”
Memories of a Childhood Home
It’s odd to think of my childhood house and the memories I have associated with it and thing that my Wee One will have memories, too, about the place we live in just the next few years. Every day with her is so beautiful, fun and playful. I will like seeing what she discovers about our home.
Weekend Coffee Share #3
If we were having coffee, we would have trouble finding a place to sit. It’s busy in here today! You remark, but then remember this neighborhood is hosting an apple picking festival. Will they start selling cider? I wonder aloud, remembering ciders I’d had over the years. There was a booth at one of renaissance fairs named the “Cup and Chaucer,” which I think is so delightful. They had hot cider on sale for $2, and as my first morning drink, it sounded awesome. It wasn’t until I started sipping that I realized it wasn’t alcoholic, (hence the low price.) I also realized the hot drink in my pewter mug meant burned my lips and tongue.
Four Reasons I Love Hindi Movies
Tonight, in preparation for writing this post, I asked my husband what he thought was weirdest about me. Ever the tactful man, (because this can be a slippery slope) he brought up something innocuous: My enjoyment of Hindi movies.
Ah, Ye Olde Tyme Recordings
This is in response to an old prompt about whether I prefer my voice on tape or face on vidoe, but it brought up good memories that I like to flip through. In college, my freshman year, I was best friends with two girls, Ann and Ali. Ali’s roommate moved out of her dorm room for some reason I don’t remember, and one night, inspired by Fiegling from a Romanian friend and cheap wine from a fake ID, she let us take magic marker to her walls to decorate.
The day before the big day
Todays Daily Prompt asked us what we do the day before a big day, and one of the suggested “big days” was our wedding day. Since a coworker of mine is getting married this weekend, I have recently been dreamily reliving the days of my own wedding, just, like 6 months ago… (I just realized, 6 months yesterday!) and I hope she has a good a time as I did.
The week before we went to Disney to get married was stressful, but not too much. The big decisions were already made and settled, we had a wedding planner handling things in Orlando. The actual day before, my husband and I bashed around Magic Kingdom with a couple of friends. These friends had never been to Disney World before, so it was awesome to show them things for the first time.
Rose Colored Glasses
My home at age 12 – a time in life I hated, yet I currently look back on fondly.
I’m an only child, and my real dad started leaving us way before 12, so it was just me and mom. The house was small and red-bricked with a circular stained-glass window in the front. It had a long hallway that, when we moved in when I was two, I yelled down to hear the echo. ~EH!~ When i got older, we swapped the carpeting for hardwood floors, and I could slide down the hallway. There was a little phone alcove in the middle of the hallway, and we stacked phone books under the telephone there. When I was talking with my friends, I unwound the cord pulling it so far to my room.
We had a basement – it was finished on one side, unfinished on the other and cool on both. I would sit on the finished side, watch 21 Jump Street, and fold laundry. Especially in the summertime. The AC – which was robin’s egg blue, of all colors – didn’t work very well, and during a thunder storm, we had to turn it off. Sometimes days passed without it on. Just fans.
The yard was big. I had mowed, crawled on, made snow angels on it – I knew that yard. Each tree. I knew them all. Climbed a few. Bushy overgrowth in the backyard became monsters and spaceships and a clubhouse for one. Mulberry bushes. At 12 years old, I kept my 10-speed on the side of the house. The street was short and boring – no other kids.
It was in a bad neighborhood, but situated in a great part of the city. And I could ride to all of those parts. Moreover, I had the time to imagine and be outside, and I miss that so much.
I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving 