Not misty watercolor memories.  Vibrant, solid, high-definition memories.

That is how I spent the week that I did not publish a new blog post.

Yes, I originally decided to let the blog take second fiddle to working on my new book this year.  After careful consideration, I decided that I would spend more of my overall writing time on the book instead of the blog.  The first time I did not publish a new post this year was on 2/24.  I would like to say that I spent hours working on Puppies, Guppies, and Letting Go instead.  However, I gave up lying for Lent.

For some reason, I spent most of the week daydreaming and recalling some specific events of my childhood. 

I thought you all deserved to know what kinds of things cluttered my brain that week.  Here are some of the highlights:

  • When I was in kindergarten, we had a May pole in the middle of the classroom.  Every day in May, we danced around it, braiding ribbons of multi-colored crepe paper around the pole.
  • When I was waiting for the school bus one winter morning in New York, I noticed that the vacant field by the bus stop was beautiful in the snow.  I had this bright idea to sell tickets for tours of this winter wonderland.  I even got a couple of takers.  My appalled parents could not figure out a way to explain why this activity was wrong.
  • My family visited some sort of combination amusement park and zoo when I was about four.  We walked past a cage with a sign that announced the animal residing inside was a flying squirrel.  I saw no animal residing in the cage at all and told my father, “He must have flown away.”
  • When we moved to California, I had a small round suitcase that I took with me on the airplane.
  • The very first ice cream place we visited in California was the Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors that was about a mile from our house.  The man who owned it was named Mr. Zero.  He was very nice and bought Campfire Girl nuts from me.
  • When my mother’s mother was in the hospital, my father would sit in the car with my brother and me while my mother visited.  He sang us songs.  I particularly remember him belting out “I’ve got a sixpence, a jolly, jolly sixpence.  I’ve got a sixpence to last me all my life.  I’ve got tuppence to spend and tuppence to lend and tuppence to send home to my wife… poor wife.” 
  • When camping in Idyllwild with my family when I was about nine, I used to sit and watch squirrels for hours, as they harvested acorns.  There was a quietness that you could feel rather than hear.  The path was blanketed with pine needles.  There were fallen logs where I would sit, breathing and thinking.  Pine air tastes good.

I would like to believe that these memories have some productive purpose.  Perhaps they will eventually work themselves into fodder for the book.  I seriously doubt it, however.  I think my brain just went on a little vacation down memory lane and chose some pretty bizarre highways to get there. 

I think there might be something seriously wrong with me. 

What is one of your vivid childhood memories that seems inconsequential but is actually means a lot to you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at

Have a memorable day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂