What I Did For Love

When my daughter was born, the paternal instincts kicked in. I feared for her safety. It became my responsibility to protect her and to provide for her and see that she was happy. About a year and a half ago she got married and I turned those responsibilities over to her husband. That's a tough, emotional transition for a dad.

 But I kept one heavy burden to myself. It was up to me to make sure she had mince pie every year on her birthday. Don't question our choice of pie filling, it's a family tradition that we both love. And it brings me great joy to bake it for her.

Then, in June this year she and her husband moved 7 hours away. A few weeks ago I realized that I would not be able to be there to bake her pie. So I did the only thing I could do. I turned over to her husband the charge of serving my little girl pie for breakfast on her birthday. I emailed him the recipe and let go of my last responsibility so that she could have happiness on this day.

That's what a great dad I am.

good Opening For My Novel?

As Liz pressed the clutch firmly to the floor and put the car in gear, musing about how like making love with Richard this was, the way he would ignite an internal combustion within her, clutch her tightly, setting her passion into gear and sending her blood racing as she shifted under him, cruise control off, until she hit a wall of rapture and Richard collapsed against her like an air bag, little did she realize that Richard was siphoning the fuel of their romance into another vehicle at that very moment.

It was a nice apartment but not the Ritz

Ritz crackers are comfort food. Perhaps only my sister will understand this. Yesterday I had Gouda cheese, Ritz crackers, and Thompson seedless grapes for lunch. It incited a Proustian bout of nostalgia. I was taken back to the Hyde Park apartments in Inglewood, California. (Whether it was actually named the Hyde Park apartments is open to question. I think I was called that and was on Hyde Park Blvd., around the corner from the house we eventually moved into on Beach Avenue; but I could be misremembering this and everything that follows.). My mother was at work and my sister and I were home alone. We had been latchkey kids from way back and way before that term was coined. Sue was going into 6th grade and I was going into 4th, so we weren't so young anymore to be on our own. I picture us sitting on the floor in the living room area of the sparsely furnished apartment. We were eating Gouda cheese and Ritz Crackers; there was surely some Bob's Big Boy brand blue cheese dressing for dipping the crackers into. I remember there being green grapes, but, again, maybe I'm mixing memories. This was a great meal for us. We were also capable of fixing ourselves some hot meals: minute steaks, frozen vegetables, Kraft macaroni and cheese. (All on the stove - there were no microwaves. It was primitive times.) Even though we were mostly on our own, we did sometimes go to a neighbor's apartment. I'm going to say it was a young couple who lived there and the wife "babysat" us and introduced us to twilight Zone on TV and Peter Paul and Mary on records. We also met Pam Plumbeck who lived downstairs and would be in my class at school; I promptly fell in love. But this post is all about Ritz crackers; that was the brand my mother always bought. When I grew up, I was persuaded to buy whole grain crackers, lower fat crackers, and fancy crackers. Recently I decided that I can buy whatever the hell crackers I want and I wanted some Ritz. The memories are better when they sit on a Ritz.