I burnt the toast Saturday morning., and it made me smile.
Some the oddest memories link us to people we love, and burnt toast is one of those for me. According to my Great Grandma Hoffman, you make toast by burning it and then scraping off the black parts.
This weekend falls right in the middle of finals for me, exams wrapping up my first year of grad school. I'm sure there will be lots of current things for me to write about when our grades are posted for the semester, but for now my burnt toast has triggered a trip down memory lane...so here are a few of the ones that make me smile!
~I can remember a time in elementary school when I was walking home with Pop. One of us had a candy bar, though I can't remember whose it was, and offered the last bite to the other. We ended up passing a tiny bit of chocolate back and forth, each of us biting off a tiny bit so as not to take the last bite. I'm pretty sure it got down to about a 1mm in diameter dot of chocolate!
~Michael and I were always under foot when Mom was working in the kitchen, usually trading punches (he told me it was his job to toughen me up). When I say under foot, i really mean it--our kitchen in Bonner was basically a hallway with kitchen appliances built in, so the two of us rough housing definitely didn't make cooking an easy task for her. She would tell one of us to let Sarah know when supper was ready, so whoever she asked would then yell at Sarah to come down for supper. The kitchen was downstairs, at the back of the house. Sarah's bedroom was upstairs at the front. Needless to say, yelling would not be what Mom had in mind. She would usually then tell the other one of us to get Sarah, then proceed to swat each of us with whatever cooking utensil she had in her hand after we both yelled for Sarah to come down for supper.
~By best friend from about 7th grade on was Erin. We were incredibly competitive, with everything from academics to sports. One summer I had spent the night at her house and we were battling for the title of the most front flips done in the pool without coming up for air. We even roped her mom, Liz, into counting for us while we spun in circles in about 2 feet of water.
~My family went camping (actually in a tent, none of that camper stuff for us!) in Colorado for a week the summer I turned 14. It seemed like it rained every night, but it would be pretty each day. Our tent didn't leak--unless something was touching it. With 5 of us in the tent, our pillows and the foot of each sleeping bag was usually touching the wall of the tent. That meant each morning when we woke up, our blankets and pillows would all be soaked. We would spread everything out on the giant rocks around our campsite to dry while we went to do whatever hiking or climbing we had in mind for the day, then tuck everything back into the tent for another wet night. One evening it was pouring so we couldn't cook out on the grill, so our dinner was an odd assortment of fruits and veggies that we could eat raw. For some reason, everything that happened that night--from the strange tasting fruits we had never tasted to the water dripping on our heads--was hilarious to my mom. I can still hear her laughing hysterically while we all teased that she had finally lost it.
~Pop and Mom were in the milk barn and I was out in the tank room. I heard a thud, Pop grunt, and Mom yelling all at once, and went running to see what was going on. My mom yelled at me not to come in, which needless to say freaked me out even more than I already was. i had no idea what had happened--so also needless to say if you know me, I didn't stay out of the room for long. When I went in Pop was bending over cradling his face in his hands, Mom was shaking and telling me to stay back while trying to check on Pop at the same time, and one of the cows had her leg stuck over the bar that kept the cows out of the center pit of the barn. When I finally got the story of what happened out of them, the cow had managed to kick Pop at least twice in the face. He was fine, though his face was incredibly swollen for a while...and he didn't much appreciate us telling him he had a striking resemblance to a Klingon. (I guess I should add that it definitely isn't Pop getting kicked that makes me smile...but the Klingon part does--sorry Pop!)
Some the oddest memories link us to people we love, and burnt toast is one of those for me. According to my Great Grandma Hoffman, you make toast by burning it and then scraping off the black parts.
This weekend falls right in the middle of finals for me, exams wrapping up my first year of grad school. I'm sure there will be lots of current things for me to write about when our grades are posted for the semester, but for now my burnt toast has triggered a trip down memory lane...so here are a few of the ones that make me smile!
~I can remember a time in elementary school when I was walking home with Pop. One of us had a candy bar, though I can't remember whose it was, and offered the last bite to the other. We ended up passing a tiny bit of chocolate back and forth, each of us biting off a tiny bit so as not to take the last bite. I'm pretty sure it got down to about a 1mm in diameter dot of chocolate!
~Michael and I were always under foot when Mom was working in the kitchen, usually trading punches (he told me it was his job to toughen me up). When I say under foot, i really mean it--our kitchen in Bonner was basically a hallway with kitchen appliances built in, so the two of us rough housing definitely didn't make cooking an easy task for her. She would tell one of us to let Sarah know when supper was ready, so whoever she asked would then yell at Sarah to come down for supper. The kitchen was downstairs, at the back of the house. Sarah's bedroom was upstairs at the front. Needless to say, yelling would not be what Mom had in mind. She would usually then tell the other one of us to get Sarah, then proceed to swat each of us with whatever cooking utensil she had in her hand after we both yelled for Sarah to come down for supper.
~By best friend from about 7th grade on was Erin. We were incredibly competitive, with everything from academics to sports. One summer I had spent the night at her house and we were battling for the title of the most front flips done in the pool without coming up for air. We even roped her mom, Liz, into counting for us while we spun in circles in about 2 feet of water.
~My family went camping (actually in a tent, none of that camper stuff for us!) in Colorado for a week the summer I turned 14. It seemed like it rained every night, but it would be pretty each day. Our tent didn't leak--unless something was touching it. With 5 of us in the tent, our pillows and the foot of each sleeping bag was usually touching the wall of the tent. That meant each morning when we woke up, our blankets and pillows would all be soaked. We would spread everything out on the giant rocks around our campsite to dry while we went to do whatever hiking or climbing we had in mind for the day, then tuck everything back into the tent for another wet night. One evening it was pouring so we couldn't cook out on the grill, so our dinner was an odd assortment of fruits and veggies that we could eat raw. For some reason, everything that happened that night--from the strange tasting fruits we had never tasted to the water dripping on our heads--was hilarious to my mom. I can still hear her laughing hysterically while we all teased that she had finally lost it.
~Pop and Mom were in the milk barn and I was out in the tank room. I heard a thud, Pop grunt, and Mom yelling all at once, and went running to see what was going on. My mom yelled at me not to come in, which needless to say freaked me out even more than I already was. i had no idea what had happened--so also needless to say if you know me, I didn't stay out of the room for long. When I went in Pop was bending over cradling his face in his hands, Mom was shaking and telling me to stay back while trying to check on Pop at the same time, and one of the cows had her leg stuck over the bar that kept the cows out of the center pit of the barn. When I finally got the story of what happened out of them, the cow had managed to kick Pop at least twice in the face. He was fine, though his face was incredibly swollen for a while...and he didn't much appreciate us telling him he had a striking resemblance to a Klingon. (I guess I should add that it definitely isn't Pop getting kicked that makes me smile...but the Klingon part does--sorry Pop!)
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~Mandy