applepieWM

Pi Day

Three one four, et al A day to celebrate pie Pizza or apple My grandma Jessie could baked the heck out of some pies. Her coconut cream and lemon meringue pies were legendary. The crusts were light and flaky, melt in your mouth goodness. She died in 1997 at 81 years old. I miss her,…

hearthandhome

Memories for sale

The house looks smaller than I remembered. I can see tarpaper under some of the broken roofing tiles. The driveway’s crumbling shoulders and huge cracks running through the asphalt are big enough to swallow the yellow Corvair my dad once parked under the carport. Dingy, colorless vinyl siding covers the original stone façade. Looking around…

trestle

Lonesome whistle

I felt the locomotive before I heard it. Leaning against the greasy pylons, I was awash in the rumbling as it rode along the steel rails, and cascaded down over the wooden scaffold. It was a rhythmic thundering that resonated deep in my bones. This was the timbre of my childhood. Escaping along the trestle…

dubbabubbaWM

Grow up

At some point in your childhood development, someone – perhaps a parent, perhaps an older sibling, most assuredly a high school nemesis – has flung those fateful words at you, “grow up!” Whether we displayed immature decisions or actions, fashion or opinions, someone deemed our choices inappropriate for our chronological age. Now that I am…

crane2

Origami cranes

It seems that the older I get, the more early memories of my life simply disappear. I’ll get a glimpse of an image, but for the most part, there are whole chunks of my childhood that I cannot remember. What I do recall doesn’t follow any kind of pattern. There’s no telling what will flashback,…

deepfriedWM

Eat ’til you drop

My peeps and I are headed west for Thanksgiving to spend the holiday with one set of Grans – the Mr’s parents – for the big Eat ‘Til You Pop Day. We have our own family dinner traditions – green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce, angel biscuits, turkey, and various and sundry desserts.…

junglegym

Monkey in the middle

I instinctively ducked away from the hand reaching toward me from the center of the jungle gym, and gracelessly face-planted on a t-joint of hard metal. Sitting in the dirt, I ran my tongue over my fractured front tooth, tasting the iron tang of blood where my incisors cut through my lip. I spit out…

Reading chair

Once upon a time there were books. Stories printed on white sheets of paper, all bound together between two hardcovers. Sometimes there were pictures to help illustrate these stories. These books were like specials friends who took me to wondrous places, introduced me to amazing characters, and fed my imagination. When I was young, I…