One in every recipe


Okay these did not scoop out in perfect squares like those in Pinterest pictures but it was a plop of sticky finger-lickin’ yummyness.

3 full trays of happy for the NYC homeless run but of course, was short one!

I honestly believe in every brownie recipe there automatically comes at least one brownie thief..

perhaps to make sure they are not poisoned…


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I hope it is…


Do you ever wonder if this really is how it is for loved ones who have passed on.

That they are  really this close…and babies see them..

“Hello today dear one, I can see you and I am this close…”

Ah, what a comforting thought.

Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander, MD is a fascinating read if you ponder this type of stuff to squeak out the last days of summer…

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sharing bubble tea


The thing about summer

is that

it isn’t about all the big things



it is about

all the little

spontaneous moments

 you make time for…

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Hold on dear summer, I am coming…


Out walking the evening of the last day of school and came across a newly formed fort blowing in the breeze. 

And right then I felt it! Dear summer’s warm winds and calmer days flow through me.

Everyone needs a summer fort.

A place we can “crawl inside” and let the cares and worries of life,

like a force field

bounce off the outer walls.

Not here life!

Not in my fort!

It’s summer time!

I am heading to my fort soon.

Ahhhh,  I can’t wait.

Quote from past post Dear Sweet Summer:

Sweet summer does not grant us permission to play, she offers the sunshine, the thunder storms, the fireflies, the diamonds on the water, the firelight, the sunsets, and she offers them gently, sometimes so quietly we don’t even notice. Sweet summer stands with her arms held out to embrace and all we have to do is come running and jump in and play!

“Oh hello my dear sweet summer, I missed you…

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magical bubbles…

IMG_4602magical babies


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Proud proud proud


There is nothing like being a parent!

But there is also nothing like watching your own children become parents…

These two grew up as best bud’s as well as sib’s and I pinch myself when I see them now all grown up with their own babes.

Proud proud proud…

Life is so much fun with family!

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I was a little Skunkneck

My father was wicked witty and claimed he did not have a creative bone in his body. You be the judge…


He had his own vocabulary that would just flow out of his mouth such as

“Bushwa” which was short for “Bushwa-ishkabible-skyta-brute.”  (The whole thing was used mostly during a tease.) The word was used to disguise something usually ridiculous or not worth talking about. Like “Oh bushwa!”

Terms of endearment were not as you would have expected: lunk-plunk, angle-worm, nongin-plongin, skunkneck, angle-snangle, buttheads, plug-ugly or plug, squirt-neck or squirt, snorkel-dorkle, or little bugger,…

Most of us also had individualized nicknames. One of mine was “jayfer, nayfer, payfer, layfer, scayfer.”

His unique vocabulary mixed into regular conversation without a hiccup.

We looked “cuter than a bugs ear” or “peachy keen.”

When proud he would say it three times: I’m “Proud, proud, proud!”

For reassurance he would always say, “You’ll Do It!”

When we were sick his diagnosis was usually that we had “the “screamin’ scrud snuds.”

But when we were really really sick we had the “hydra-konda-bogus and triple…” I am keeping the rest out on purpose for a future children’s book!

Extremely frustrated or angry he would exclaim, “Oh horse manure!”  or “Amscray! (SCRAM)”

My father used his unique vocabulary to teach us, such as when he would gently remind us to: “Say lovin’ words.”

Or my personal favorite; his explanation for when day turns to night or night turns to day; “There it is sky-blue-pink!”


My father was not perfect. He said his share of “damn- it’s” under his breath. That was his prominent swear. But he would throw in a “bass-akwards” or a “horses arse” to keep it “cleaner” for my mom. I recently realized that our favorite car singing song that he taught us as toddlers left out the word ass. I do remember my mother looking over at him as I stood in-between them in the big station wagon. (When he slowed he would put his right arm across my body to keep me from falling forward. )

He would mischievously look over at my mom and smile his straight across smile. And we’d all sing it loud and strong and even in a round.

Sweet Sings the Donkey

As he goes to grass.

If you don’t sing better you will be the…



Hee-haw, Hee-haw, Hee-haw!

My last recording of him on my phone begins, “Hello lovin’ heart.”  I play it often just to hear his voice.

It is interesting to me how silly words and phrases unexpectedly turned into my father’s legacy of love and affection for his family.

It makes me smile my straight across smile just to think of this.

Happy Father’s Day dad.

I thank God every single day I got a good one!



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