this.title.intentionally.left.blank.com

I'm in middle of making an apple pie for shabbos.
Phone rings.
Gotta check a flight on my laptop.
I run upstairs.
Can't resist posting something...

:)

Memories are full of smells.
and sounds.
and sights.
and songs.
and sonnets.
and special people.
and so many awesome things that we ought not to ever take for granted.

I love waking up on Friday morning to the smells of shabbos cooking downstairs; the gefilte fish, challah, soup.
My mother tells of when she lived in 1414 President St. back in the day, eight kids in that tiny apartment.
Waking shabbos mornings to the sounds of her mother chopping eggs for the egg salad in a metal bowl using a metal chopper.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Every shabbos morning.
For as far as she can remember.

Whenever I hear "azamer bishvachin" being sung I can literally smell the chicken soup.
Bentzy wrote a song "azamer bishvachin" for the new album.
It talks about an old woman whose favorite thing is to hear the songs of shabbos.
And her favorite was azamer bishvachin...

"time it moved so slowly then...we thought those days would never end"...

Driving to the aquarium chol hamoed pesach, thinking of bubby who loved zaidy's shabbos singing more than anything in the world and crying my eyes out.
End song, repeat, end song, repeat, end song, repeat, end song, repeat.
I love that song.

Ok.
Fine.
I have to go finish making the apple pie.