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Beignets in New Orleans I had more of a sweet tooth when I was 6. I remember the smell of our kitchen when my mom made homemade donuts. Since I knew of no one else who made donuts, besides bakers, I was impressed. I thought Mom was sort of daring and magical when she plopped circles of dough into the sizzling pan of grease. After the dough cooked, she drained the piping hot rings on paper towels, before giving them a shake in a paper bag filled with powdered sugar.  New Orleans is a place where some adults frequently act like 6-year-olds. Usually the behavior is brought on by alcohol. During our visit to Nola last week, I let the famous sweet treat from Cafe du Monde, help me recall my 6-year-old self. Cafe du Monde  To this day, the smell of funnel cakes reminds me of Mom's donuts. But the taste of beignets, is an even closer match!
A delicious celebration of sweet!
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For the 6 Year Old
I was more intrigued that it was about a little girl growing too old for her security blanket. I was 6 and trying to hide my thumb-sucking habit from my peers. The sweet story and illustrations spoke to me. There were pictures of "Jane" at my age... sucking her thumb! From 6 to 60
Celebrating on a Porch!
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My little porch celebration has made me more determined. Someday, I will have my own screened in porch!
Remembering My Old Schwinn I learned to ride a bike in Grinnell, Iowa. Our sidewalk was buckled from tree roots, but by the time I was 6 I was flying down Summer Street. Barefoot and helmet-less, I pretended my little Schwinn was a pony! Best of all, I liked bike-riding with friends.
I recently got to relive those carefree bicycle days with my friend Kim, in Florida. The quiet neighborhood was car-less and our heads were helmet-less. I pedaled with my flip-flops and squealed at my own wobbly steering. (I blame that on my heavy camera bag in the basket) We laughed our way to the beach for sunset and laughed some more when we had a little bike mishap, which ended with a skinned elbow. I'm not telling more.
A bike celebration! A perfect way to remember being 6! Maypole  When I attended P.S. 35 in Staten Island, the first day of May was a big deal. The older kids got to do the Maypole, which impressed me to no end. Little Dutch Dance  The first graders had to perform a little Dutch dance, which I vaguely remember. What I remember more vividly, is how my headband, covered in flowers and ribbons, fell over my eyes. Being a rule follower, I did as I was told and didn't let go of my partner's hands. I danced blindly and hoped no one would notice. (You can tell which girl is me) I was mortified when I discovered my mom had a photo to capture the memory. May Baskets
So I made a little basket for my neighbor, Lorrie. It was pretty similar to the baskets I made with cupcake liners and yarn, as a 6 year old. I placed the tiny surprise near her doormat and rang the bell. I didn't exactly run home. Instead, I strolled home texting a bit of an explanation. Sigh... I can't believe I allowed technology to get involved with my May Day fun!
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Sixty
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