Hark! The rhythm
Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...
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The sun was nearly gone. So were the last of his passengers. That was what he thought. Driving the cab at snail-pace through city’s traffi...
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He went there. Daily. Unfailingly. His conversations, Candid, Intimate. And why not! He had Inspired That iron-man, ...
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The 12 inch heel, the confident gait, The measured steps, the sudden halt, The blush on cheeks, the smoldering eyes, The hands on h...
This was very tiny on my computer screen, but well worth the eye strain. I miss my mom's meat loaf!
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for the inconvenience. I have repeated the text separately.
DeleteThank you so much.
Isn't that the truth? There's quite a few recipes I wish I could ask my mother to make again.
ReplyDeleteIt is almost always difficult to recreate mother's magic.
DeleteVery true. No one makes it quite like Mama makes it. That is why I am glad that I had the presence of mind to have my mom tell me how to make everything and wrote down her recipes before she died. My Grandma used to be a really great cook, could make all this stuff from memory. Then she got Alzheimers and all that was gone, no one thought to get her to tell them how she did it before then.
ReplyDeleteThat sounds really cool. Having noted all her traditional trade-secrets will give you a great edge ;-) And plus this way she will be always with you. Distant, yet a notebook away.
DeleteYou've captured this truth beautifully!
ReplyDeleteThank you Genna
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