One of my most vivid memories is of Cuba, Kansas on a hot summer night jumping around, catching fireflies. Strange that a town less than half a square mile in its entirety, can manage to have such a big and important place in my heart. My Dad’s parents would spend their summers out in Cuba and Dad would bring all us kids out for some family time. I think Grandma liked their winters in California a million times better than she enjoyed summers out in Kansas, but you would never hear her complain. Grandpa was a Cuba man; he loved the slowness of the town. He always wore blue and white striped overalls and had such a strong presence about him, except when Grandma would give him the stink eye. I got my linebacker shoulders from Grandpa and my stink eye skills from Grandma.
Every trip we always ended up doing 3 things. Hunting for lightning bugs, fighting off the chigger bugs and eating kolaches (pronounced ko-LAH-chee). Man, Cuba women sure did know how to make kolaches, I think it’s the strong Czech influence that just oozes the streets of Cuba. Kolaches remind me of a danish, visually. But don’t let their appearance fool you & don’t you dare ever say the D word out loud, those ladies will bury you alive in their stink eyes.
Kolaches are sweet pillows from heaven that just beg to be served with a hot cup of coffee. My favorite is lemon or cream cheese but I hear that the traditional poppy, apricot or blueberry are delish.
I don’t know sports. Like REALLY don’t know sports.
One of the first dates Darren took me on was an evening of Putt-Putt. There was this kid in front of us…he was maybe 10 years old and kept saying ‘I hit that outta here like Larry Walker’ and would then look at me, as if he was looking for a ‘wow’ or a ‘good job, Buddy’. Anyway, by like the 10th time he tells me his phrase ‘blah blah blah…Larry Walker..blah blah blah’ I finally say to the kiddo, ‘I’m sorry Buddy, I don’t know golf.’ This kid (and Darren) look at me like I had a second nose, his jaw drops to the floor and he doesn’t speak to me again. My 10 year old entourage was gone. Darren had to explain to me that Larry Walker was baseball and the goal in golf WAS NOT to hit the ball like that. Oh.
Ok, ok, ok. Just listen for a second….don’t freak out…stay with me…
I like being old. (gasp)
Yes, sometimes I do miss 20 something me. She was adorable. She had great skin, the metabolism of whatever has great metabolism, and this naturally highlighted hair that I would pay money for. Scratch that, I do pay money for. But dude, she worried so much about what other people thought of her. I wish I could go see her & slap her upside the head. Tell her to snap out of it. I remember this one woman, she gave me the stink eye…or maybe the sun was in her eyes? I just lost it. I made this woman my life. Showing her that I was cool, there must have been some misunderstanding. You must like me, why wouldn’t someone like me? Is there something wrong with me? Why? Why? Why? And then I would end up in the fetal position crying in my closet because this lady now thinks I’m totally off my meds and a wack-a-doodle.
*sigh* rinse and repeat.