Memories like crumbs in the purse of my mind.

(photo credit: unknown fellow camper/counselor at Dayton Oaks)

I spent a good part of today reminiscing on Facebook and Flickr, uploading pictures from 10, 20 and more years ago, like this one (from 1990 or 1991) of my first youth group leader and favorite camp counselor eating a disgusting sandwich we made for him out of everything in the camp kitchen. I appreciate that he would even smell it, let alone take a bite. In this respect, I have to consider him a snacking mentor.

A fitting mid-afternoon snack for a day of such nostalgia? A leftover cherry Pop Tart, broken into pieces by a day spent in my purse waiting to be eaten (said purse got a little knocked around by a baby who was playing with it in the meantime, hence the eaten-in-pieces business).



(This photo was taken yesterday, before I ate the first of the two PopTarts.)

I guess I technically prefer a hot and icing-ed Toaster Strudel, but I've always had a soft spot for raw, fruit-flavored Pop Tarts (and this is an item that is not so good in the generic). A favorite cold breakfast in college (we didn't have them in the house when I was a kid), they taste both bland and like candy at the same time. I find them comforting. If only I could pull these memories up over me like a blanket and crawl into a bed of photo albums and boxes of Pop Tarts, the approaching weekend would be a rather cozy one.

p.s. The homepage of the Pop Tarts website, which I had originally linked to in this post, invited me to click on "Moms" or "Kids." That there were no other options (as I am neither -- what about "Dads?" "Caregivers?" "Childless People Who Like Pop Tarts?") struck me as obnoxious. I refuse to link to them anymore.