Mysterious Monday

Well, it would appear that Mysterious Monday is destined to appear on Tuesday. I'm not sure why. Perhaps a name change...Tenebrific Tuesday? (and yes, I had to look that one up too).

Or perhaps that's the nature of Mysterious Monday - to appear on Tuesday. After all, who am I to question the nature of the Mystery?

Today's Mysterious Monday comes to you from my kitchen. Here's a picture:



So what's the mystery? Well, I'm a little embarrassed to say this, but I'm not sure what kind of bread that is. Pumpkin bread? Spice bread? Gingerbread? I don't know. I've even tasted it, and still don't know. Sad, I know.

If you have any ideas, feel free to jump in!

Mysterious Monday: The truth is out there - and it's LOUD

Well, it appears all those people who claim to have been abducted by aliens may just be right. Or they may just be crazy, but then what accounts for this?

Scary stuff, I tell ya. I'm just glad I live in a Bunker. Time to go check the canned goods...

New project

This morning I was told about a new project called "52 Stories". It's a Flickr group (find it here). The basic premise is that anyone can join this group, and the only requirement is that each week, you post a picture to the group and link to (or post) a story about it. It can be a story about anything, fiction or non-fiction.

So here's my inaugural story (one week late, but hey, nobody's perfect!). Hope you enjoy.

The picture:



The story:

Winter

One of my favorite memories about growing up in Queens, New York, has to do with winter. More specifically, it has to do with winter days when we went to school. Rather more specifically, it has to do with arriving home after school. I vividly remember walking through the door on a cold, dark winter afternoon, to the sound and smell of my mother cooking dinner. We would sit in our rooms, or maybe the dining room, doing our homework, waiting for our father to get home and for the evening to begin. Those dim, 4pm-afternoons were one of my favorite things about wintertime.

Now that I'm a mom, one of my strongest desires is to create for my child the same memories - walking into the warm house, the smell of dinner in the air, our home a safe harbor against the ever greyer and shorter days. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. Somewhere loved.