T Stands for A Mug, Postcards, and Teas

 Back in June on our first trip to Ogunquit this year, Teague and I ate breakfast at The Egg and I, and I was quite taken with the mugs. At the time, it was too busy in the restaurant to ask if the mugs were for sale.

Last week, back in Ogunquit and since our motel was across the street from The Egg and I, we walked over for breakfast. While waiting to be seated, I asked if the mugs were for sale. They were! So after breakfast, I bought two, one for each of us to have as a souvenir.

When I got home from my trip

Lisca's second postcard for the 11th T Day Anniversary had arrived. Lisca wrote the picture is from Gaudix, a town near where she lives and where she frequently shops. She had recently been there with her son and his family. She said, "It was so hot that I enjoy looking at the snow in this card. (it was 40 oC or 104 oF.)

While it's been very hot and humid where I live, it hasn't been that hot. Though to some it might feel like it was that hot. I don't really complain about the heat and humidity. Winter lasts so long. Summer is flying by and Winter is coming.

For those who enjoy the stamps, this travel stamp with the little people with their luggage and backpacks must be the postcard rate. The Correos, the postal service of Spain, did a nice job with the postmark. The card was postmarked in Granada on the July 23. It took about a week to get here.  Impressive.

If arriving home to happy mail wasn't enough, in Monday's mail this envelope and notecard from Lisca. The notecard has a picture of a market and a vendor selling garlic bulbs. It reminds me of when I was little and we would go into Boston to visit my maternal grandmother. Sometimes, Ma would have Dad stop at Haymarket Square where there would be vendors selling fruits and vegetables.

Inside the notecard were 3 teabags. In her note Lisca explains, Pukka is an English brand that has many different herbal teas. The Lord Nelson is from the European supermarket Lidl and it is a sleepy-time tea of chamomile, fennel, and valerian.

The third teabag is called Sex on the Beach and is a cold-brew tea. It immediately got dunked in cold water so I can try it after dinner while relaxing in the sunroom. 

Then because the first postcard I received had a slight mishap in Lisca's bag when her water bottle leaked (though it wasn't damaged), she sent this magnificent postcard of a toreador. Just look at those roses! 

Thank you, Lisca, for being my T Day Anniversary partner.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Second on the Second

From October 22, 2015 a Throwback Thursday

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time at this house. My mother's sister and her family lived here. When I was little, my grandma lived here, too. The door used to be the same brick red color.

Because Ma worked, Auntie was like another mother. During school vacations, we would ride the Green Line (subway) with Dad. We would get off the subway at Government Center (formerly Scollay Square). Dad would go to his office in Boston, and The Brother and I (or I would go by myself when I was 9 or 10) would go down the subway stairs to the Blue Line to catch a train to Maverick Square in East Boston.

Even though the Airport Station was closer (Auntie's house was one street away from Logan Airport), we were cautioned to get off at Maverick Square.  We were always told Airport Station was not safe. I suspect it was like we were told there were hobos in the woods. Maverick Square was safer as we could just walk straight down Chelsea St.  No turns and no crossing busy streets.

The door opened into a porch. On the left and up 3 steps was the door to Auntie's house. On the right, was the door that led to the two apartments upstairs. Auntie's husband grew up in this house. His sister and her husband  lived on the second floor. Uncle's mother and a mentally handicapped brother lived on the top floor. When I was little, I called Uncle's mother "The Grandma Who Lived Upstairs". I just remember a tiny, old woman with white hair. She always wore a dark colored dress and a black sweater draped across her shoulders. When The Grandma Who Lived Upstairs passed away, Uncle Peter lived with his sister on the second floor and the top floor apartment was rented out.

We'd knock on the door and waited to hear Auntie coming down the hallway. I can still hear her calling out "Who is it? I always yelled "It's ME!" and she'd reply "Who's me?" before she opened the door.

One thing I didn't like about Auntie's house was the "Buckhowsah", the bathroom, as my grandma called it. The bathroom was at the end of the long, dark hallway, before entering the main house. The bathroom wasn't heated and during the Winter, you could freeze to the seat if you weren't careful.

If the weather was nice, we'd get to play outside with The Cousins.  Take turns riding bikes or roller skating on the sidewalk, playing hopscotch, or marbles using the sewer cover as the playing field. We might get a chance to run errands. Go to the end of the block to Anna's the fruit and vegetable lady, cross the busy street at the light to go to Guy's, the neighborhood grocery store. When I was a teen, we'd go to the barber to get our hair cut by the cute barber.

Summertime, was the best time to be there. Men with trucks would come down the street selling fruit. They'd yell, "Ey waddamalone!" And then there was the man who wheeled a refrigerated pushcart. He sold Slush, a frozen lemonade which he piled into a small, pleated paper cup. On a hot Summer day, it was Heaven in the palm of your hand and all for a nickel.

When I turned 10, I got to have tea with Auntie. She'd make me a cup of tea. It was really more milk than tea with a spoonful or two of sugar in a china tea cup with matching saucer. There would be cookies, too, sometimes the store bought spice cookies shaped like Dutch windmills and Dutch boys and girls. If it was after a holiday, there would be Grandma's bow cookies drizzled in honey and Auntie's sesame seed cookies.

After work, Ma and Dad would come to pick us up. We'd stay for dinner and everyone would crowd around the table in the small kitchen. We'd have Grandma's Cappellini, home-made macaroni shaped like little hats, meatballs, sausage, and Scali bread from Blundo's Bakery to sop up the gravy.

The old folks have all passed away, but the memories and the door remain.

It's your turn to play. From Elizabeth: Now it's time to share your Second on the 2nd.  The rules are quite simple and everyone is welcome to join the fun look back.  All you have to do is bring back a post that you are especially proud of, or perhaps one you shared before anyone knew your blog existed.  Any post, any genre, any artistic endeavor is acceptable.  Join hosts Bleubeard and Elizabeth to see what else is being served up the Second Time Around.

Throwback Thursday

 

Some words of wisdom from my Grandma. She used to say that the problems you think you have are flowers compared to what other people are going through. It probably sounds a lot better in Italian.

Throwback Thursday

 

Some words of advice from Ma. "Don't borrow trouble." She meant when you were going through something try not to think about all the negative what-if scenarios. 

Wishing You

 

a wonderful day and may all your dreams come true.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 I didn't have the energy this week to run around outside taking pictures of the garden. So a nostalgic post from this date last year 2022

One of the best things about the Christmas season in Boston if you were a kid growing up in the late 1950s and 1960s, was a trip into Boston to the Jordan Marsh Department store. If you were very good, your parents would take you to see the Enchanted Village. This was a series of animated doll displays. You'd wend your way through the displays and then you could sit on Santa's lap and tell him your Christmas wish list.

Before going home, your parents would stop and buy a box of Jordan Marsh blueberry muffins, the biggest, best, fluffy, blueberry muffins in the Universe. Recipe here.

Throwback Thursday - Thanksgiving

 From November 27, 2014

Remnants of Thanksgiving 1967 at Uncle Mario's

Left to right: Ma (seated), Auntie Emma, Auntie Phyllis, Auntie Olga, me, Uncle Tony, Uncle Jack

 Here we are waiting for Round Two of eating. Have a little something before you go home. Another plate of lasagna or eggplant Parmigiana. Maybe a turkey sandwich. Another slice of pie, fruit and nuts, or Auntie Emma's pizzelles  (Italian, anise flavored, waffle cookies)

If you celebrate the holiday, have a Happy Thanksgiving. If you don't celebrate the holiday, have a fabulous Thursday.

Throwback Thursday

 

From March 2012: My Theatrical Experience

When I was a sophomore (18 or 19 yrs. old) at Boston University, I was in Equus starring Brian Bedford and performed at the Shubert Theater. That is, I was in one performance.

My friend, Teague, was a theater major at Northeastern University. She asked if I wanted to see the play Equus. She could get us special student tickets which allowed us to sit on stage. We would be medical or psychology students seated in an amphitheater and listening to the psychiatrist (Bedford) describe his treatment of a disturbed young man, Alan. Perfect! I was born to the role as I was a pre-med student studying psychology. We arrived at the theater and were shown to our seats on stage.  We sat on risers with other students. I didn't know the play, but it was very exciting to not only watch the performance, but to be "in" the performance. Until...

Jill, a stable girl, entices her co-worker, Alan to go into the stable late one night. Jill pulls off her sweater and peels out of her jeans.

 Okaaay. I squirmed a little in my seat. It's nothing more or less that I haven't seen before.

And then Alan takes off his shirt.

 I fidgeted a little more which earned me a hiss from Teague. Sit still!

Alan fumbles with the waistband of his jeans.

Ohmygawd, he's not going to...And then my parochial school training kicked in and I was repeating small prayers (coincidentally called ejaculations). Jeez Louise! He's not wearing his Holy Fruitofthyloomies! Jeeze Louise! He's Mother Buck Naked.

I could feel the heat rising to my face and my ears were burning. My eyes were bugged out of their sockets like a cartoon character, the pupil detached from the iris, which was detached from the eyeball, all stretched beyond the character's nose. I was sophisticated. I had traveled to Germany. I was a pre-med major. I had studied Anatomy and Physiology. I owned a Merck manual.  I'd seen the diagrams of the male anatomy.  But the young man on stage didn't resemble those flat pictures, and he was obviously excited to be on stage.

Understand, this was Boston founded by Puritans. Boston where Hey, Little Suzie by the Everley Brothers was banned. Boston where I had attended parochial school,  where the nuns wouldn't allow us to sing Louie, Louie because of the suggestive lyrics.

I didn't know where to look, and I was sure my eyeballs were going to burst into flame. Then an angel saved me. In the first row of the mezzanine, I could see a man in a dark suit and white turtleneck. I focused my attention on his turtleneck until the scene ended eight days later with the psychiatrist mercifully wrapping Alan in a blanket.

So ended my theatrical career.

The Friday Five Good Things.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

 Five good things that happened this week.

1.  A problem with an online account was resolved quickly at the bank. There seems to have been an error between the computer screen and the chair.

2.  We wanted to watch some mindless fun so watched Shazam followed by Lego Shazam.

3. Celebrated Pi Day with apple crisp in individual round dishes (sort of like an apple pie) and a half-assed Shepherd's pie

4. The Plow Guy showed up early. Plowed the driveway and shoveled the steps and walk. Such a nice surprise that I didn’t have to shovel the steps and walk

5. Another Thursday with Teague. We went for breakfast and plans for another Head Stoner trip to Holy Cross Cemetery in Malden as soon as the weather warms up a bit

And a Happy 104th birthday, Dad. I hope Uncle Francesco and your mama bake you a spectacular rum cake, Uncle Vincent plays the violin, and Uncle Louis sings for you

How was your week?

Fun Facts About the Commonwealth of Massachusetts

 

In 2007, the garter snake became the official state reptile. For years, we had a garter snake that lived under the stairs. We named him Mr. Scaley.

A Wish

 

May your day be Merry and Bright

Fun Facts About the Commonwealth of Massachusetts

One of the best things about the Christmas season in Boston if you were a kid growing up in the late 1950s and 1960s, was a trip into Boston to the Jordan Marsh Department store. If you were very good, your parents would take you to see the Enchanted Village. This was a series of animated doll displays. You'd wend your way through the displays and then you could sit on Santa's lap and tell him your Christmas wish list.

Before going home, your parents would stop and buy a box of Jordan Marsh blueberry muffins, the biggest, best, fluffy, blueberry muffins in the Universe. Recipe here.

A Look Back

 A look back on this day in 2012. I was participating in the National November Journal  Month (create a journal page each day for the month of November) and posting the journal page I had created the day before, 2. November. Little did I know that a year later both my parents would join these family and friends that passed through the veil.

2. November

Halloween, Samhain, All Souls, Day of the Dead are all festivals that honor those that have passed on.

Do Not Stand Over My Grave and Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand over my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints on snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain

I am the gentle autumn rain

When you waken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight

I am the soft stars that shine at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there. I did not die

Sparkling watercolors, F. W. Acrylic black ink, Nikko G nib.

Nubble Light - York, Maine

On the way home, we  stopped in York again to visit one of the most iconic images of Maine. Cape Neddick Light Station better known at Nubble Light. The lighthouse is still a working lighthouse, but the light and horn has been automated and maintained by the U.S. Coast Guard. 

The lighthouse and property of Sohier Park is owned and maintained by the town of York.

We had tried to stop on our way up, but as it was a Sunday the place was crowded and there was no parking.

This was another nostalgic spot in York for me. One year, Mary's parents had rented a small cottage up the road. In the evenings, Mary and I would walk down to the light house to sit on the rocks and to talk. I remembered a restaurant Mary and I ate at one time. Fox's Lobster House. The restaurant is still there, and so packed Teague and I couldn't find a parking space on the way up.

Teague spent Summer vacations with her family when she was a kid. A family photo of them taken on the rocks makes Nubble Light special for her.

Teague and CJ

Teague was trying to take a picture of the two us. Another visitor kindly offered to take a picture of us.

There's a gift shop as well as a comfort station. When I travel I like to buy a Christmas ornament or souvenir that I can hang on the Christmas tree. 

I also purchased

because the tin amused me.

Long Sands Beach - York, Maine

On the way up to Ogunquit, Teague decided to get off the highway and to travel the Shore Road through York Beach. Back in the early 1980s when Teague had moved out to California, a friend I worked with at the hospital and I used to go every weekend during the Summer to York.

We stayed at the Anchorage Motel. A two story 1950s, 1960s cheap hotel. I don't think we paid more than $25 per night. Not anymore! 42 years later, the motel is now The Anchorage Inn. Rooms are over $300 per night!

Mary and I would run across the street to eat at a little clam shack on the beach. The little clam shack is now a big restaurant. The cars next to the curb are parked for a day at the beach.

Across from the Anchorage is Long Sands Beach. Mary and I never had a problem finding a parking spot. And if by chance all the street parking was gone, the Anchorage let people park on their lawn for $5 for the day! Not any more.

It doesn't look like it but Long Sands was packed with people. There was hardly any space to lay out a towel. I don't ever remember Long Sands being that busy. How times have changed.

Throwback Thursday - Casper the Ghost Doll

 

It seems like a wave of nostalgia has washed over the Blogosphere. It started with Divers and Sundry posting the song Remote Control and BioArtGal posting a back to school journal page.

The one who sent me wandering down memory lane was Andy Fish posting about his visit to The Harvey Mercheum - A Celebration of Harvey Comics.

I read some of the Harvey comics: Lil Lulu, Lil Audrey, Richie Rich, but I liked watching Baby Huey, Casper the Friendly Ghost and other cartoons on Saturday mornings. 

When I was 5 years old, I had been very ill. It wasn't measles, but I don't remember what the illness was. Maybe the flu. Just that I had a very high temperature and was in bed for a long time. 

 I remember Ma had called Dr. East, and was upset with him that he wouldn't make a house call. Dr. East said Ma could bring me to the office. It was Winter, and Ma bundled me up in my fuzzy, blue jacket that smelled of Mr. Whitaker's stinky cigars. (Mr. Whitaker was the driver that picked me up for nursery school and kindergarten.) Dad wasn't home from work yet and Ma didn't drive a car back then. She called her friend, Isabel, who lived down the street and gave Ma rides into Boston when Ma worked for the Carver Dress Company in Boston's garment district.

The doctor's instructions were to put me in a tub of lukewarm water to try to bring my temperature down along with doses of orange flavored St. Joseph Aspirin for children.

On the short ride home, I remember being very hot and the stinky cigar fumes from my coat making me feel even worse. Ma grumbled that the doctor made her bring a very sick child out in the cold when he barely did an examination and could have told her to put me in a tub of lukewarm water while she was on the phone with him. 

I must have been very ill and my parents very worried. Shortly after the visit to the doctor's office, Dad brought home a talking Casper the Ghost doll for me. This is why I know I must have been very ill. The Brother and I got toys and stuff at Christmas and our birthdays, but not at random times during the year.

I'm sure Ma would have preferred he had brought home a baby girl doll, but Casper became my favorite (even though I secretly wanted the Matty Mattel doll).

I loved Casper and lugged him around with me everywhere until his white, terry cloth body became a dingy grey. The doll I had didn't have Casper's name embroidered on his chest. Casper talked when you pulled the magic ring at the back of his neck. He made a ghostie sound, "OOooooo" and he also said, "I'll play with you." Casper fell out of bed with a loud thunk. He fell out of bed so often Ma and Dad stopped rushing in to check to see if I was alright. Casper's trips to the floor caused some of the phrases he said to run together. My Casper said "Oooo, play iwth youoooo."

Many years later I commuted to Boston University. In the mornings, my dad or Isabel's sister, Josie, who worked in Boston would give me a lift. In the afternoons, I would take the T from Kenmore Square Outbound to Longwood to catch a bus to Natick. Sometimes I would take the T inbound to Boylston and walk down Boylston St. to Park Square to catch the the Boston to Framingham bus. If I was early for the bus, I would window shop at the Boston Music Company or an antique shop next door.

One day as I walked by the antique store, in the window was a Casper doll. Just like my Casper doll. He didn't have his name emblazoned on his chest. I was very tempted to go in an ask about Casper, but a sign at Casper's feet indicated he would cost $100 to bring home. I only had enough cash in my pocket for bus fare so I walked on by.

Y'know, I've always been sorry I didn't check to see if that Casper was my Casper. One pull of the magic ring, one "Oooo, play with youooo" and I would have known for sure.

Did you have a favorite doll or toy when you were a kid?

Throwback Thursday - Whatcha Mama Don't Know, Your Mama Don't Mind

 

From July 8, 2011, A Friday Five Post Five: 5 Things Ma Never Knew We Did 

My parents worked so The Brother and I were left to our own devices for several hours each day. As the elder, six years my senior, The Brother was reminded on a daily basis to "watch your sister." I learned early on it was easier to embrace the idea of whatcha mama don't know, your mama don't mind than feel the fist of an elder sibling.  For the most part, I was a near perfect child in conduct and lay claim to guilt only by association.

Memories of these escapades helped me make the decision to give up my career as a computer programmer and stay home to take care of my children. I know first hand what kids can do left with their own imagination and without adult supervision.  Sometimes I'm amazed we actually survived childhood.  Five things I did that my mama doesn't know about.

1. A lot of the things I did with The Brother usually began with the phrase, "Hey, Sh*thead, wanna see something funny?" For the longest time, I thought that was my name. And as I said I learned early on, it was easier to go along to get along than to suffer the wrath. "Sure!"

The Brother took me into the bathroom. He had a book of matches and a can of lighter fluid. He swirled some of the lighter fluid into the toilet, lit a match, and tossed the match into the toilet. Flames shot out of the toilet higher than the toilet tank. The Brother flushed the toilet and the flames receded like a whirling dervish. The Brother was right. It was funny.

2. When I was 9 or 10 years old, my mother had the kitchen remodeled. The sink was a gleaming, stainless steel affair with a sprayer. My parents had gone out for the evening. I don't remember how the incident started, most likely we were washing dishes. That is, The Brother washed the dishes, and I stood on a stool and dried them. The Brother had control of the sink and the sprayer. I was soaked a few times. My only retaliation was to run to the bathroom to fill up a Dixie cup of water to toss at The Brother.  It was not effective. After another dousing, I ran to the bathroom and found a plastic basin under the sink. I'd show him. I filled the basin and then quickly ran across the hall through the archway into the living room where I couldn't be seen from the kitchen. I stayed very quiet. I knew The Brother would come looking for me, and I'd be ready.  As expected the quiet proved too much. The Brother went to the bathroom door to see what I was up to. Not there. Logic turned him and brought him through the arch. I swung my basin back and let the water fly.

The Brother neatly side-stepped the rushing water. The wall was not so nimble, and the wave crashed against it with a deafening splash. It was my first lesson in physics. A body in motion can easily outrun a basin of water tossed at it. I reached the conclusion faster than the water leaving the basin that this outcome was bad, very bad, and not nearly as funny as it had played out in my mind.  My parents were due home any minute. My face crumpled, and I began to cry. "Don't worry," said The Brother adding his term of endearment for me. He brought out some old towels. While I mopped the wall and rug, he went up to the attic and brought down the box fan. In no time the wall was dry, and the water didn't leave a mark on the wallpaper.

3. The Brother's room was on the second floor of our small, Cape Cod style house. Up fourteen steps. On one side, a wall. On the other, a decorative series of open, pine shelves that also formed a wall of the living room. My mother called the shelves "peek-a-boos"  My mother was a collector of glass figurines and some of her treasures were displayed on the shelves.

I was four or five years old when The Brother thought it would be fun to stuff me in a cardboard box and push me down the carpeted steps. This was in the early days of the NASA Mercury missions. I was squashed into the cardboard capsule along with a pillow and a favorite stuffed panda bear. The cardboard flaps were sealed shut in an over, under, over under fashion. I heard a muffled countdown. Ten, nine, eight...The cardboard box slid down the first couple of steps. All was going well until either I or the panda bear shifted weight and then the box bounced down the stairs ass over teakettle and crashed into the wall below.

I wedged my head through the opening, the box at a standstill my world still whirling by me. The Brother called to me from the top of the landing. "'S'alright?" "S'alright." The correct Quick Draw McGraw cartoon response. Amazingly, not one knickknack was displaced from its perch on the peek-a-boos.

4. Across an empty field, and kitty corner to the back of our house was a brick house. A lovely home filled with nine children.  Their house faced a scenic highway. Next to their side yard/field and to the corner of a main road, was a wooded lot. The woods were called The Little Woods to distinguish them from the large woods across the main road that led to the town forest. Next to The Little Woods and kitty corner to the brick house was another house where the children had a wooden Davy Crockett play fort. The oldest boy who lived in this house even had a genuine, Davy Crockett 'coon skin cap.  To get to the fort, you crossed the field by way of a path though The Little Woods and you would emerge behind the fort.

The Brother and I were with the older boys and girls that lived in the brick house. We had made our way into The Little Woods into a depression the older kids called the Lion's Den. This depression sloped down to the scenic highway below. From the Lion's Den, one could not be seen from the highway, but one had a glimpse of the roadway below. Someone had some water balloons and some bright spark thought it would be fun to lob the balloons onto the highway.  There was an occasional squealing of tires and the toot of any angry horn. Until someone hurled a balloon and it splatted across the windshield of a state police car. Someone whispered "Holy Sh*t." which was followed by the slam of  the cruiser door.

The Brother grabbed one of my hands and one of the other kids grabbed my other, and we flew through the Little Woods to the path. I was suspended between the two older kids, my chubby, five year old legs, churning air as we raced up the path to the brick house.

Someone opened the wood bulkhead doors and we tumbled into the cellar. Along one wall of cellar, was a large, built in storage cupboard. The cupboard doors were swung open and I was boosted in followed by the other kids. We spent the afternoon huddled in the dark with the sound of our heartbeats thrumming through our heads.

5. By far the funniest of funnies was a fall day towards dusk. I had assented I indeed wanted to see something funny. An elderly, neighbor lady two houses down from our house on the opposite side of our dead end road, had been raking leaves. As it was getting dark, she quit for the day and went into her house.  Next door to the elderly lady's house, and kitty corner to our house was a house that had a storm drain in front of it.

You could stand on the grate and could see the dark, oily water below your feet. The Brother had a cigarette lighter, and a water-soluble cherry bomb with a long fuse. Yup, you in the cheap seats guessed it. The fuse was lit, the cherry bomb plopped into the water. The Brother grabbed my hand and raced towards the shadow of a flowering crab apple tree in our front yard. I held tightly to his hand as I sailed like a kite behind him. My red, P.F. Flyers pumping furiously in the air. We sat down under the tree, our breaths whistling in the air.

There was a slight tremor and then a roar. A column of water shot out of the storm drain, thirty feet into the air. Hand to God, it was thirty feet high, and it fell back to earth like a cloud burst.

The elderly lady came rushing out of her house and screamed from her front porch, "What the hell is going on?"

I'm not sure what was funnier: The column of water, deluge, or the what the hell from the elderly lady. It must have been the adrenaline rush. The Brother clapped  his hand across my mouth and pushed me face first into the grass to stifle my hyena laugh.

So 'fess up. What have you done that your mama doesn't know about it? Don't worry. I won't tell. Remember. Whatcha mama don't know, your mama don't mind.

Throwback Thursday - Repeat

 

From May 5, 1016:

When The Brother lived in Harriman, New York, a small town in the foothills of the Catskills, Ma, Dad, and I took a trip to visit. The Brother took us to see the United States Military Academy at West Point. We walked around the beautiful campus. Got to see a bridal party posing for pictures at the chapel.

Here's a picture I took of Dad with his four year old grandson in front of the decapitated statue of General George Patton.

After leaving West Point, I couldn't find my beloved, Bollé, aviator sun glasses. It wasn't until several years later while going through photographs, I found where I had left them.

The Friday Five Good Things

Image from SomewhatSimple.com

  Five good things that happened this week.

 1. The plumber found the leak in the basement.

 2. We didn't lose electricity during the Blizzard

 3. The Angel that plowed the driveway during the first   part of the Blizzard, couldn't finish the job because he   was in the hospital with appendicitis. Himself's brother,   another Angel, dragged his snowblower over and   cleared the driveway for us. the Plow Angel called later   to find out if we still needed help!

4. I sent a birthday message to the Nephew. In the evening, his wife made a FaceTime call so we could all chat with them and the Grandniece and Grandnephew. So cute. The Little Girl showed me the paper cup with the push up popsicle stick with the cutout of the groundhog so you could pretend the ground hog was coming out of his hole. So cute. Happy memories my girlies did the same craft in preschool.  You can't go wrong with a classic. Baby Boy was happily smiling through the remnants of chocolate birthday cake all over his face.

5. A Skype session with Nan. Seems like ages ago we talked.

How was your week?

T Stands for Comfort Food

When I'm nervous, upset, or just not feeling well, I want some comfort food. My go to choice is tea with cinnamon and sugar toast. That is, hot buttered toast sprinkled with a little cinnamon and sugar. 

It's a feel good memory from when I was little. Ma would make me cinnamon toast and then cut the toast into strips (soldiers).

Calli was in the animal hospital for a few days last week. Quill wasn't upset Calli was gone. He just wanted to get a few licks of the butter.

Usually, the every day blend of tea is just fine. This time around, I paired the cinnamon toast with Harney and Sons Hot Cinnamon Tea. The tea is very fragrant with cinnamon notes. Each teabag makes two cups of deliciousness. The taste of the tea reminds me of the Fireballs (cinnamon candy) I loved as a kid.

What's your favorite comfort food?

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s blog to find out what the rest of the T gang is up to. If you want to play, include a beverage or beverage container in your post. Don’t forget to link your blog from Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s page.