To Ann... Teenage Memories
A few days ago, my best friend in the world (literally! She's in Perth!) Ann told me I should really update my blog. Looking at the sorry state that it's in.... I figured it's time for an overhaul and of course, time to return to you, dear reader.
I have to say that many of my culinary adventures too place at an early age. While I'm not talking about culinary epiphinys here, I'm talking about a stage of experimentations afterschool in my kitchen, often with Ann as my Lab Partner, so to speak.
Ask any of my freids in high school, and I'm willing to bet they have at least one memory of eating at my house. See, my flat lies right between my school and all major modes of transportation for my friends to get home. Most times of the year, it's a humid, muggy 15 miunte walk through what could only be described as a tropical jungle along a road that smells enternally of dog poop.
I met Ann through a mutal friend of ours. And over lunch times filled with rice boxes, instant noodles and gallons upon gallons of Diet Coke and Coffee, we bonded and became best of friends. And through Ann, I met also Alice, and Kate, and a bunch of people. But it's Ann you'll find most often at my house, or we're hanging out at the nearby Pacific Place Mall.
It's Ann who introduced me to the joys of Macdonald's fries dipped in their ice cream: that cold creaminess is the perfect foil for the hot, salty grease-stick. It's Ann who showed me it's possible for a someone with her slight, five-foot three frame to drink an entire one of the extra, extra, extra large Sprite we used to get there.
But what I remember most about Ann is her love for milk. Oh the lazy afternoon days afterschool when Ann and any other combination of people's over, I would make things like microwaved apple with brown sugar and cinnamon, and microwaving marshmellows with chocolate chips for a gooey mess, or finding creative uses for leftovers.
When it comes time for me to ask the girls what they want to drink, usually, the answer is Water or Pop. But with Ann, it's always 'Milk Please!". It's also usually how my mom figured out Ann was over at one point: the Milk carton would be empty, or close to it.
It strange how I assoicate those humid afternoons, spent in Air condtioning and flipping through magazines with Milk. And still not a time goes by I don't think of Ann when I Pass the dairy aisle.
Happy Belated 25th birthday Ann. May your next 25 be better, brighter then your last 25. May your hopes and wildest wishes come true. May your faith lead and guide you to where you want to be spiritually.
I miss you lady. And no matter now far you move, LYLAS