It's not today, but it's coming up this weekend. And my dear sister has told me she wants to give me a gift I've really been wanting and will cry with joy on receiving it. I know I would want the same for her. I love giving gifts and feeling that they are a blessing to the recipient. I fully agree with, "It is better to give than receive." There is something I want for my birthday. What means much more to me than a gift is quality time. It is my dominant love language. Spending time with my sisters is fun and priceless. I feel the same way about my husband. I have repeatedly asked him to not buy me a gift, but take me out to eat, hold my hand for no reason at all, and tell me he loves me at a time when I don't expect it. And yes, he's reading this over my sholder as I type. It never hurts to drop a hint or in this case a huge boulder. I love you husband!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Today my mother would have turned 59 again. I will continue to be 29 when my birthday rolls around this year, so it's only fair that I stop counting everyone else's birthdays too. My mother is remembered always, but the memories are not as sore as when it is fall. When cooler weather begins to blow in, the weathermen start to talk of cold fronts, and the harvest decorations show up in the store is when I miss my mom the most. All the comfort and warmth in the world rested in my mom's arms. And for some reason, autumn starts to remind me of that warmth I've lost here on this earth.
The Cracker Barrel store is one of the places that remind me of mom. She always decorated for the holidays and all of the turkeys and snowmen they sell are just overwhelmingly mom. Obviously, I love their store during the holiday season and would go broke buying all their Pilgrims and Indians if I'd allow myself. As part of my persistent reminiscing that began two and a half years ago, other than the Cracker Barrel, I like looking through mom's old recipe binder. She subscribed to Country Woman Magazine among others and collected most of the recipes she came across. I just saw a recipe that really reminded me of the way she cooked. I look forward to making this for my family and I hope it tastes just like something she made when we were all back home with her. Knowing my culinary skills, that is wishful thinking.