Cream Puffs
Bill brought me a box of frozen cream puffs today. It wasn't a Mother's Day present but, in a way, it was even better, because it proved that he was listening. I just happened to mention yesterday that I had been craving cream puffs, and that I might need to buy some the next time I saw them at the grocery store. I certainly didn't expect him to come home with them today. Sometimes it's the littlest things that mean the most.
When I think about cream puffs, I remember my teenage years, when my friend Ellen's mom made cream puffs for us whenever we had a slumber party at their house. Those homemade cream puffs were amazing! I think that making cream puffs must be a dying art; they are too time-consuming. I don't know anyone who makes them anymore.
The cream puffs themselves are worth remembering, but just the thought of them makes me think of related slumber party memories, like guarding our socks and unmentionable undergarments so some sneaky friend wouldn't steal them, run them under the faucet, and stick them in the freezer. Like playing Yahtzee and pitch late at night, and trying not to giggle so much we woke up Ellen's family. Like walking around the section with high school friends at the crack of dawn, after a night of very little sleep, then coming home to a farm breakfast of eggs and bacon and pancakes.
Memories of one friend's slumber party lead to more memories of other sleepovers, like those at Shari's house, nearly thirty miles from town. When I stayed with Shari, I stayed the whole weekend. She lived in an old farmhouse with no heat upstairs. I remember sleeping in her bedroom in the middle of the winter with a dozen blankets piled on top of us. For entertainment, we watched the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show with the rest of her family. And, her mom made the most delicious cheesecake...
I wonder what my friends remember about the rare slumber party that I hosted at the hotel where my family lived. Do they remember staying in a hotel room right across the hall from our apartment, sitting up and talking quietly for half the night so we wouldn't disturb any paying guests? Do they remember walking through the dim hotel hallways and down the three flights of stairs, or are memories of the old elevator more important to them? Do they still think about the luxury (for them) of ordering anything they wanted off the cafe menu for supper and breakfast?
Thanks, Bill, for the cream puffs. They brought back lots of memories. The two I've eaten so far have been delicious. Would you like one? I'll be glad to share!
When I think about cream puffs, I remember my teenage years, when my friend Ellen's mom made cream puffs for us whenever we had a slumber party at their house. Those homemade cream puffs were amazing! I think that making cream puffs must be a dying art; they are too time-consuming. I don't know anyone who makes them anymore.
The cream puffs themselves are worth remembering, but just the thought of them makes me think of related slumber party memories, like guarding our socks and unmentionable undergarments so some sneaky friend wouldn't steal them, run them under the faucet, and stick them in the freezer. Like playing Yahtzee and pitch late at night, and trying not to giggle so much we woke up Ellen's family. Like walking around the section with high school friends at the crack of dawn, after a night of very little sleep, then coming home to a farm breakfast of eggs and bacon and pancakes.
Memories of one friend's slumber party lead to more memories of other sleepovers, like those at Shari's house, nearly thirty miles from town. When I stayed with Shari, I stayed the whole weekend. She lived in an old farmhouse with no heat upstairs. I remember sleeping in her bedroom in the middle of the winter with a dozen blankets piled on top of us. For entertainment, we watched the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show with the rest of her family. And, her mom made the most delicious cheesecake...
I wonder what my friends remember about the rare slumber party that I hosted at the hotel where my family lived. Do they remember staying in a hotel room right across the hall from our apartment, sitting up and talking quietly for half the night so we wouldn't disturb any paying guests? Do they remember walking through the dim hotel hallways and down the three flights of stairs, or are memories of the old elevator more important to them? Do they still think about the luxury (for them) of ordering anything they wanted off the cafe menu for supper and breakfast?
Thanks, Bill, for the cream puffs. They brought back lots of memories. The two I've eaten so far have been delicious. Would you like one? I'll be glad to share!
Comments
Post a Comment