It’s all in the Hat

This picture goes right along with my “Hats or Hats Not” project.

A friend of mine recently got married and I was more interested in the people’s threads then in the actual wedding. Sorry, but true.

To say the least, I was a bit disappointed by some of those who attend. Why would you wear Timberlands and a tee to a wedding?! I saw some who looked like they just walked off the street into the church.

Anyways, enough about the squares! I got a kick out of looking at the bridesmaid dresses but the best were the  hats.

Here is a picture of the bridesmaids.

Pandoro by Pasticceria Biasetto

The dialogue between my family enjoying Pandoro on a Tuesday afternoon:

Me: (to April and Sammy) What are you eating?

April: The cake Yunice brought from Gustiamo.

Me: Can you cut me a piece please?

Dad: There’s something about that cake, it’s not like a regular pound cake.

Sammy: I know….it’s like…spongy.

Dad: Yeah, Sammy, you got that right. It’s spongy.

Me: Thanks! Why, what a big slice!

Yunice: Aww, just eat it. The slice looks big but it’s not that big. It’s like cotton candy. You think you have enough but soon you would want some more.

Me: *Sigh* I want some more already!

Pandoro is made by award winning pastry chef Luigi Biasetto in Veneto, a region in Italy. It is made with organic ingredients (you can see a list of the ingredients at Gustiamo’s website) and comes wrapped so beautiful that you want to keep the package after you’ve eaten the cake. That white stuff is powered sugar. It comes in an individual package. If you forget to put the sugar on the cake (which you may not want to do), you can add the sugar to butter-pecan ice-cream…I tried it and it’s good!

Do I know You?

This week, I bumped into two people who remembered my face. I, on the other hand, did not recognize them. One was a cousin of mine (which is embarrassing to say) and the other was a friend from middle school.

I was walking to work on Thursday when all of sudden I heard someone call my name in a question. When I turned around, my cousin was standing there smiling. I think he thought that I was going to remember his face or something but I just looked at him- blankly.

You don’t remember me? He asked walking towards me. I’m your cousin.

And then I said the most embarrassing thing.

Oh, Yeah! I know!

And he stood there waiting for me to acknowledge him. So, I figure I better say a name because apparently he knew my name and a lot about me.

Timothy?

No, Ronald. Ronald Jr.

Oh! Hi! Oh my gosh! How are you?!

Now you remember me?

Well, a little. I mean, I know you but…like, I haven’t forgotten you…well, you know!

When we started talking is when I started to really remember him. He is probably ten years older than me and he looked different.  Not that different. I remember him being short when I was little girl and he is now my height. However, there was something about his voice that reminded me. Isn’t that weird?

The maternal side of my family is from Virginia so they have an accent. Ronald, even though he’s been back and forth between New York and Virginia, still has an accent.

There was something sad about seeing him too. Like I didn’t get a negative air but something made me sad running into him. I think it’s the time he spent away and the time missed.

I believe if you know a child (as Ronald knew me when I was a child) then maybe you have a duty to create some type of friendship with the child and be a very positive person to the child. Especially, if they are family members!

The other person I bumped into was Gabriel. I was walking to Macy’s and he was walking towards me. I literally bumped into him and then said excuse me.

Gabriel stepped aside, but made sure he held my eyes then he said

Do I know you?

And I am used to people, especially men, asking me “do I know you?” as a pick up line which I think is very silly. So, I was thinking, Oh gosh, here we go again! But Gabriel was serious and persistent.

Yes, I do know you. I know you!

And after he said that so many times I asked him from where. And he just kept saying I know you.

And finally he said from 174. I think we were in the same class.

And I said, oh! Okay.

But I still was not sure. Because I could not remember someone name Gabriel looking like him. The Gabriel I knew was chubby, wore glasses and seemed a little geekish. He would carry a big book bag all the time.

However, of all the things I remembered about Gabriel was he liked to make jokes. He used to sit in the front of the class and crack jokes all the time.

And I remember him taking up for me  in an argument the class was having over how I  dressed in the seventh grade.

The class wanted to know if I wore the same shirt yesterday. Gabriel told the class that I didn’t and some how another boy named Jose agreed with Gabriel. I remember thinking, Thank God for Gabriel and Jose.

I actually did wear the same shirt. I was doing an experiment with dressing and seeing how important it was to really change your outfit every day. My sisters’ thought I was crazy and my mom just told me to make sure I wore clean clothes.

When wearing the same outfit drew to much attention, I decided to pick two outfits for the week and wear one every other day. And surprisingly, the class never questioned if I wore the purple and green shirt I had on Wednesday on Monday. After that experiment I proved to myself that dressing really didn’t matter in school. Especially not in middle school. And when I convinced myself that it didn’t matter, nothing anyone said about my clothes made me want to change my outfits.

Okay, that was a tangent!

Anyways, seeing Gabriel did not leave me with the same feeling that I felt when I saw Ronald but instead it left me with curiosity. Which I think happens every time  you bump into a childhood friend. We spoke a little about our school and I asked him what he was up to these days. Apparently, we were tagged in the same picture on facebook which allowed me to easily befriend him. Seeing him made me think a lot about middle school. I am glad those days are over.

Ronald Jr.

Bread Factory in Bronx

One night, after church, my dad mentioned the strong smell of bread that was in the air. It was a strong smell. We all could smell it and have been smelling it for years. I never really knew where the smell was coming from; however, my dad knew. He said he used to go to the bread factory all the time, long  time ago. That night my sister and I urged him to take us.

When we got there,  the gate was locked and there was music playing that the entire neighborhood could hear. It was good that the doors to the factory was open! After my dad found a way to open the gate, we walked pass the ‘don’t trespass’ gate and went inside.

I was in awe! It was almost like a mini bread festival. Everyone was packing bread and there were huge bread machines everywhere! There was bread sliding off and on slides, bread spinning, bread being thrown into bags… Bread everywhere!  The workers created an assembly line and was not even distracted when we walked into the place.

The workers were so kind and happily packaged bread for us to enjoy. When my dad offered to to pay for the bread, they turned my dad away and kept working. We were surprised and happy at the same time. We got some good Italian bread for free! Straight from the oven into our tummies.

The Bronx is full of finger lickin’ surprises!

Bread Factory

Own It

FootLocker

There are two pairs of Converse, 5 hats, and two sneakers  in this photo, Can you see both of them?

When kids get bored, just play I Spy. That is a game that will and can go on forever!