A day for remembrance....yes, I DO remember this day 4 years ago. I got back from New York a scant 7 hours before the first tower was hit. And yes, I WAS just there, a few blocks from the Towers. I had stayed at the Marriot Hotel on Time's Square for a big group gathering of friends and only went back to Long Island to stay the night before my departure. I had a wonderful friend who welcomed me into their family home while I was in the area for the group thingee. When I left the day before the fateful day, my plane was due to leave at 3:30 p.m. at Islip. We got on the plane, sat for 30 min and then was directed back OFF the plane. We sat at the terminal (with no real explanation of what was going on) for 1 hour before most were allowed back on the plane. Two of us were sent off to New Jersey airport to take the flight from there...scheduled to leave at 11:30 p.m.. I had no cell phone at the time, so could not call my son who was waiting for me at 11 p.m. The gentleman who was sent with me to NJ and I occupied a back seat of a "taxi" (I use the term lightly) cramped together because the car was personally owned and the man who drove it obviously had left a window down, soaking the back seat. This guy seemed nice, but ill at ease, as I was, to have to sit in such close proximity of each other.

The trip to NJ took 2 hours. By the time we reached Newark Airport, we both felt as if we had become joined at the hip. We bid each other a safe trip and went our separate ways. Sitting at Newark for 4 hours was quite the longest most anxious time of my life. I was worried sick about my son waiting for me plus didn't want to leave my seat for the fear of somehow missing the flight. The one good thing was it was a direct flight to Kansas City. Finally, we were called aboard and settled into our seats. My seat mate was a Middle Eastern man who spoke not a word (thank God!) and who promptly covered his face with his blanket. Very strange.....plus I was still confused over what had happened at Islip. Many military choppers were hovering around when I left, which I had no idea what they were doing.

I arrived in Kansas City at 2 a.m. My son, who was both worried and elated (the Chicago White Sox were in town to play against our Royals and my son got to see the whole crew), was more than ready to head for home. I got in, threw myself down on my bed and set my alarm for 7 a.m. Wow...5 hours sleep and I had to go to work. I got up, called in and told them I would be 2 hours late since my plane got in so late. At 9 a.m., I was on my way to work when my ex-husband called me on my cell phone and asked me if I was watching TV. Duh.... T hen he told me the WTC had just been hit with a bomb. I didn't believe him. Then I pulled into work (a USDA building; I worked for Natural Resources Conservation Service at the time) and found every single agency with their TVs on, riveted to the screen. I was greeted with "OMG...you are so lucky to be back!!!' The TV footage is permanently burned into my mind. Despite the trauma was my flight back, I WAS lucky to have made it back and thanked God right on the spot.

Even though its been 4 years, I will always remember the horror, the destruction, and the mindlessness of the act that threw our country into a tailspin. And I know I will always remember. Do you?

PS I still to this day have no idea what was wrong with my flight from Islip; and I can only speculate as to who my seat mate was. Coincidence??? Probably.

I'm not a recipe collector. Unless its for some gooey dessert or fabulous bread, I tend to ignore them. I hardly ever follow one anyway. But the other day my daughter in law (who is about to pop with my grandson any day now) was up and browsing through my old Betty Crocker cookbook and left it out. I also found when moving here a journal type book that my best friend bought for me so many years ago to write our favorite recipes in. I'd never wrote a single ingredient in it.

So, bored as usual, I got it out, plus a folder of torn out of magazines, sent from my mom, written on envelopes recipes I've had for years and can never find when I do want one. I thought I'd write a couple in and show Cindy the next time she's here that I DID finally start our project. I found myself transported back in time! My grandmother's baked turkey recipe (put in oven night before until midnight on low heat, turn oven off until 7:30 a.m. next morning, finish baking until noon; probably would give us salmonella these days!!!!), Cindy's famous wacky cake and my pen pal Mary's mock whipped cream frosting; Grandma's Million Dollar Fudge (aptly named; it costs a fortune to make it!) and so on....each one I transferred in my large off to the side (like my walking gait) writing brought me right back to the time I made it. I was reminded of kitchens past; the large spacious one of my grandmother's where I made dinner for the family every night growing up; the salt box shaped one of the trailer my 1st marriage found me in, raising our son; the really nice kitchen of our second residence; the tiny closet of a kitchen that was SO cozy with Cindy and I mixing up pizza dough and cookies, to the kitchen shared with my late husband, where a kitchen fire nearly destroyed the whole damned place. Good times, man...good times. The kitchen I have now is 1/2 of my apt; large, roomy, and nary a countertop to be found. It has 1940's metal cabinets and the sink has the porcelain drain boards on both sides. NOT recommended for doing anything but draining on. And I hardly spend any time in it anyway. With just me, I don't like to cook as much. I don't expect to make many memories here. I love the apt, but so far, nothing gives me Goosebumps as a memory maker.

Headachy today; this town had a motorcycle rally last nite, which consisted of Evil Kinival's arrival (the old one, not the son) and motors roaring up and down my street until wee hours. Ugh....I hate motorcycles!! So to pacify my mind, I'm spending the day at my computer; cat box be damned and dishes can sit!