5. My Wally Monster that I made at Build-A-Bear in Boston. He makes me laugh, especially when I remember this conversation:
Lady at store: "And who is this for?"
Me: "My... nephew. Yeah. My nephew. He's ... eight."
Lady at store: Oh! Does he love the Red Sox?
Me: He sure does!
Lady: If he takes this to a game, Wally might sign it for him! I bet he'd love that!
Elderly British People behind me in line, all excited: We don't understand your American baseball. But we hope your nephew's team wins and that he likes his new toy!
As it turns out, I'm not too proud to invent a nephew so I can justify being in a toy store, buying something. That's awesome.
4. The ability to make my mom laugh. My mom has the GREATEST laugh. I could listen to it all day long.
3. Talking with the Flink on the phone.
2. Lazy Daisy Sangria. I have made full on, traditional sangria. It's delicious. So is this: One bottle of red wine + one sliced up orange + one can of pineapple chunks (with juice) + splash of cranberry juice + can of lemonylimey soda.
You're welcome.
1. The memory of a single, perfect evening in Syracuse, New York circa summer of 2005 and the realization that sometimes, one beautiful moment can make it so the rest of the not so lovely moments were completely worth it -- and that you can take that perfect evening and use it as a platform for forgiveness.
I am intrigued by your perfect evening in Syracuse, and not only because my daughter will be a junior at Syracuse U this fall. I like the idea of a single perfect evening. I have my own, way back in 1985, and may blog about it... so, thanks for the idea. :-)
ReplyDeleteIt's so easy to remember the zillions of unperfect moments -- they demand attention, I think, by being rowdy and hyper in our memories, where the perfect, lovely moments are quiet and wait for your attention. I'm trying to spend more time ignoring the less wonderful things and focusing on what is (was, will be) more worth remembering.
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