My first experience with the Atlas Pyrovision Productions pyromusical displays began unknowingly in the mid-nineties.

Twice a week every summer I would make a two minute pilgrimage up a flight of stairs to the rooftop of the apartment building I lived in. It was there I would wrap my legs around a railing and sit with a few neighbors, sip a few beers and share a radio to listen to and watch whatever country was lighting up the city skyline with their presentation during Montreal’s International Fireworks Competition.

I never knew until I moved to New Hampshire that every now and then one of the competitors representing the United States was from the Granite State.

Some people that live in my apartment complex are missing their cat. He is an indoor cat named Tweety and is very very sweet mannered. He busted out of their place through their screen and is lost now. 

One time, my husband, oldest and I were at Parker's Maple Barn over in Mason when we bumped into some friends of ours. Their oldest, who was my daughter's best friend, was 3 at the time and as all parents of 3 year olds know, the terrible twos are just a warm-up.

Again, the New Hampshire Food Bank is putting out a call for help. It doesn’t take much for one to realize the crisis at hand. Wasn’t it just a few months ago their shelves were empty, restored and emptied again? Residents plagued by high fuel costs are joining the food pantry lines in record numbers and it seems as if things are only getting worse. The pinch is being felt by those of every class and most are no longer walking around with an “It won’t happen to me” attitude. It’s happening to everyone, and this dire situation does not discriminate.

When I was younger, still living at home with my sister and folks, I hated winter.  I hated getting up early in the morning to go out into the wet, cold world to shovel snow.  On those mornings when I was expected to rouse myself out of my nice warm bed to help the rest of the family, I would dawdle just long enough to be putting on my gloves and hat just as everyone else was finishing up.  I had it down to perfect timing. My mom tried to guilt me into being more helpful by relating several times how her father had died while shoveling snow. Not that I wanted to see my father grasp at his chest and fall over, but I knew my sister, who seemed to love being out in the cold running the snow blower, would be there to save my father this horrible fate.  My folks tease me about it to this day. 

Who doesn't love a good chocolate chip cookie? With nuts, without nuts, with chocolate chips or white chocolate chips, soft or crunchy; no matter what your favorite variety is they are sure to bring out the kid in anyone. I am always on the lookout for a great chocolate chip cookie and have baked dozens of different varieties. Some were great and some, well, not so much.

Yesterday I came home from grocery shopping, deposited the bags on the floor and got busy with the arduous task of finding homes for it all. I have a fair amount of cabinet space and big, giant chunky draws are in abundance in my charming, if not old kitchen. However, my cabinets are packed full with who knows what; remnants left over from various recipe contest experiments and other foodie adventures that were abandoned for a night at the local Pizza Chef, and rightly so in some cases. My experiments sometimes border on sheer craziness, as do the ingredients I collect to create them.

It happens every year around this time; a full fledged promise to lose weight by exercising and eating right. It also happens that a large percentage of us screw this up royally in the first few weeks. I am guilty as charged with the offense of making resolutions that I can not stick to. Unfortunately every year that passes without committing to a weight loss program is only making the road ahead that much harder. At what point do we say, "Enough is enough. Today I am making up my mind to become the healthy person I was meant to be." I don't know about all of you but for me, the trek to lose weight has been fraught with denial and lots of it too!

My brother is two years younger than me, but our birthdays are only four days apart. Every year our family would have a celebration for the both of us on the same day, and that is how it was always done. I think I used to hate sharing my cake with him, and maybe even thought that I would have gotten more presents if people didn't have to spend twice as much on the two of us! As the years went on though, I would have to admit that I loved sharing this event with him and became sad for the times he wasn't there.