Trifecta: Mostly My Favorite Things

1n 1959, Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote the music for the Broadway production, The Sound of Music.  One of the most famous songs from the musical is "My Favorite Things."  Since its inception, the song has been covered by countless artists, and we're asking you to follow suit.  Give us a few of your favorite things, in whichever form you want, in 33 words exactly.

Dawdling hugs, snuggle fests, passionate lip service

With pizza.

Laughter weary cheeks; smiles meant purely for me.

Clever words embodying every genre.

voices, fingertips, blue irises

tears, seasons, breezes

moments, memories, dreams

You.

Remember the Time...

Sunday is here and I’m ready for it! Stream of conscious writing happens every Sunday at Jana's Place and I’m happy for that particularly these NaBloPoMo days.

Five minutes to write about what I want without any concern for how it looks or if every word is spelled correctly (but my program corrects without asking me) and left alone after that. So here is my pre-Thanksgiving SOC.

(Courtesy of Butterball.com)

I have had Thanksgiving at my home for 23 of the past 24 years. The only time I didn’t have it was when I brought a newborn home the day before and that was 22 years ago tomorrow. Where does it go that elusive thing called time?

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Hands down.

There are no presents (not a present person). It’s all about sharing a beautiful day with the people to whom you are most close. Simple. And even if you can’t be with everyone you love each and every year, you think about them and give thanks for those sharing your day. We are lucky.

And the best part to me, surprisingly is not the food which is devoured in mere minutes, is the lingering. We spend the day talking. There are so many “Remember the time…”s.

And the best part of all the remembering is that each person recalls the story just a little differently and even if the same story was told last year “Grandma, remember when mom…” “Mom, remember the time..” Dad or Grandpa or…The tale comes out slightly different every year. How can that be? It just does. 

Then there’s my brother, forget about it. He remembers nothing.

That’s what I love about shared story telling and remember whens. Everyone has their own recollection, their own view, and their own side to add. Making up the "complete" story.

The fact that my parents are getting up there and my FIL is sick makes this year’s gathering and storytelling all that more important.

Bottling a Feeling

It’s Sunday, which means Stream of Consciousness over at All Things Fadra.

I’ve inserted toothpicks in my eyes to keep my lids open for five minutes while I type this. It’s late at night but it’s not. It just feels like it from an extra long weekend and a long travel day. Pajamas have never felt so good, well almost.

Also, there may or may not be pictures forthcoming in the form of a blog post titled something like “Mischievous Wedding Guests aka Double Trouble”. I’ll have to do some editing first if what I have on my camera is any indication of what is on my friends' cameras.

Five Minutes, unedited, GO!

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Weddings take you back, don’t they? They do me. Way back.

If there is one thing I wish I could bottle it would be the feeling on the day you marry the person of your dreams. And how it feels right after you are pronounced man and wife and tenderly kiss (but I've seen people totally get after it too). How you feel the entire evening surrounded by friends and family celebrating the two of you. And rejoicing in your love.

Your journey is just beginning and that day you start to “make” your life together and if you are so blessed, your groom one day becomes not only your husband but also a father. And you know deep in your heart that he’ll be a great father.

I’m an observer and there is almost nothing I love better than to watch a wedding although it’s been a long time since we’ve attended one! Kleenex is a must for me.

I love seeing the bride for the first time but, honestly, my eyes are hardly focused on her. My eyes always move to the groom. I watch as he anticipates seeing her and I can tell he's slightly nervous, then he sees her for the first time and grins. He watches her take every single step as she slowly walks upthe aisle. When they hold hands the first time and almost shyly smile at each other, I find this moment beautiful.

I’m the hand grabber of the couple, so I grabbed my husband's hand and heldon tightly during their vows yesterday.

At dinner, I whispered a question, “Honey. What do you remember from our day?”

The rest of the evening I watch a couple very much in love that has their whole life ahead of them and think about the excitement of that feeling. 

I watch their first dance as they hold each other closely. Probably my favorite part of all.

And I think, how can I bottle this?

“To The Moon…”

We used the phase "To the moon..." daily when our children were growing up.

Mommy said it in one fashion; Daddy in another.

For me, “To the Moon…” began when they were babies in their cribs.

As I brushed my hand along soft cheeks, I would lean over whispering in their ears, “I love you to the Moon and back.” The covers tucked and animals properly arranged, we’d squeeze each other tightly.

As time passed, I’d see their little minds’ wheels spinning and noses crinkled deep in thought.

“Mommy, that’s a long way”, she’d say.

“It is a long way, baby doll. As long as it would take to get there and back, that big wide sky, that’s how long and as much as I’ll love you. Forever.”

“Would we go together?”, he’d ask.

We’ll go everywhere together, pal; for the rest of our lives. You will never be without me and I will never be without you. No matter where you go or what you do, look up at the moon and know that I’m standing under the exact same one loving you.

“I like that, Mommy.”, they both said.

Now, the opportunities to tuck them in are few and far between but I steal them. We still love those quiet moments. And the sleepy hugs…..

Daddy started saying “To the Moon…” when they were about 3 and 5.

When our children were little, The Honeymooners reruns were on at 10:00pm every night just after FOX News. Falling into bed from pure exhaustion as most parents do, Daddy would watch while I read. Something about the slapstick and silly, simple humor (maybe his roaring laughter?) pulled me away from my book. We'd snuggle up close and relished the mindless break from everything.

That’s when, “To the Moon…” became “Dad speak” in just about every frustrating situation one might experience with a rambunctious, gregarious, charming, somewhat naughty three year old.

Let me tell you, Daddy had the move down.

Sometimes, it was “Bang Zoom…To The Moon.” Arm flinging up and out, pointing on the diagonal directly at the moon.

Other times, it was “To the Moon, Matthew!!!”

Matt would giggle saying, “No, Daddy, No!” He'd turn and run leading his Dad in a chase all over the house, up and down the stairs.

I can guarantee, Dad was probably hot about something but he never showed it. Patient man. It became silly fun and whatever the situation, it melted away.

As Matt got older and smarter (smart-alecky-er?), he’d say, “Daddy, you can’t do that.”

Dad would flex his muscle and say straight-faced,  “Would you like to try me?”

“Yes!” and the running and laughing and wrestling would begin…again.

Obviously, both ways this phrase was used were meant with extreme affection.

One was a mother’s expression of deep and never ending love for her children. The other was a father’s way to defuse and lighten many stressful and frustrating situations.

We remember “To the Moon, Alice!” quite fondly over here.

 Write On Edge

The Collision of People And Places

Our Transportation 

Sometimes you are fortunate to find somewhere in this world that holds a special place in your heart; a place you’ll remember for the rest of your life. If you are even luckier still, you’ll be blessed to have people in your life that mean the whole world to you. When these two phenomena collide at precisely the same time, you begin to understand the meaning of “heaven on earth”.

I had such an experience, an intersection.

On my birthday. On Laurito Beach. On the Amalfi Coast. In Italy.

Da Adolfo, Positano

Friends, fun, laughter, and a perfect day on the water.

Spaghetti with clams, thin crisp pizza, fresh whole fish, and white wine with peaches.

Pottery shards washed up onto the beach faster than we could sift through them. They took the shape of sea glass with edges tumbled terracotta.

All nine of us began a collection, looking all afternoon, each proud of our finds and keeping only our favorites. Strangers on the beach joined in because it seemed like fun and came up to me asking, “Do you like this one?”

Telling me to lie down, my friends covered me from head to toe with their brightly colored pieces. They were almost hot to the touch from being in the sun but felt splendid on my body.

As always happens, such good things must end. Yet…

I brought it all and the memory home with me. And put it somewhere else special. Somewhere I could appreciate it all summer long.

We’ll never be able to duplicate this day; this collision of such uniqueness but we made a pact to die trying. I bet we’ll come close, and it may mean more to someone else, but it will never be the same as MY day at Da Adolfo.

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Write On Edge

Red Writing Hood: Location, Location, Location

If you choose memoir this week, take us to a location that holds particular meaning for either a particular event or for your life as a whole.

You have 250 words, so make them count!

There Are Places I Remember...

“All these places had their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall” 

This creamy, silky, steaming cup of cappuccino is a ritual of mine whenever I have visited my favorite city in the world. It’s enjoyed every morning, in exactly this spot, every single time and always outside. Often times I’m there as the restaurant is turning over it’s chairs and the market people setting up their offerings.

Some may think that I lack imagination for being so routine in a historic place. For me, it is anything but that. This particular cup has been enjoyed alongside some of the most special people I could ever know and reminds me of how very lucky I am in my life. 

I am talking about Rome and this is Campo dei Fiore.

This city, this cup, this spot, this feeling… the warmth and calm never elude me.

It’s not about the coffee exactly. It’s about the moments in time you allow yourself to just be and take in all the present has to offer. You feel it in your soul and know you’re creating something special with the people around you, friends or strangers. I’ve learned this here, in this spot with this cup. Take time to slow down. Be the observer and just watch it all come alive!

I’ve been to Rome on four occasions. However, it was the first one, with my mother, where my communion with this culture, it's people, began. Carving out and sharing a small piece of our day, every day, as the piazza began to bustle took us back to a simpler time.

Watching the “slow” life happen around us became a morning ceremony of sorts, each and every time we returned to Rome. These were quiet moments when none of us needed to speak, each leaving the table by ourselves, when the spirit moved, to explore and be totally drawn in by the people selling their food or the locals who were doing their daily shopping.

I visited this woman each morning. She was bundled up in a wool sweater against the morning chill and she trimmed artichokes. Each morning I would stop, watch and smile at her. She always smiled back. It became our thing and each morning our smiles became wider!

Cappuccinos in Roma make the world’s best milk mustaches!

Write On Edge

This week’s prompt was  to write a 400 word memoir piece in which one of the following features prominently–wine, coffee, or chocolate.

I can’t wait to read these savory, stimulating, and sweet stories from your life.

Remember—memoir must be true—