The storm last night was tremendous with thunder and lightning which seemed to last forever. Henry stayed close. Nala slept through most of the thunder except for a couple of boomers which cracked by the den window. The cats were quiet. I liked the storm.

With the nor’easter coming mostly tonight, we are already under a wind advisory. Gusts could get as high as 70 mph. The rainfall could be around 3 inches or more. Right now it is dark but not yet raining. The air is fairly warm at 64˚. The wind is gusting. Leaves are falling. Already, the oak branches are bare.

Last night I was entertained by watching the Halloween episodes of old shows. I laughed through Cheers and Frasier, especially Frasier. I was never good at guessing who his callers were. I had to read the list in the credits.

I’m going out today to do a bit of grocery shopping. I need milk and bananas for my cereal. I also need a bit of chocolate. I’m thinking a Milky Way.

When I was a kid, I always dunked my Graham crackers in my cocoa. I knew exactly when to pull the cracker out of the cocoa before it sort of dissolved into the cup. It was a remarkable feat.

Saltines were my go to snack cracker. I’d butter them or sometimes I’d use peanut butter instead. I don’t know how I did it, but I used to eat sardines out of the tin on Saltines. The ideas of it now makes me gag a bit. My father loved sardines, and he was the one who introduced me to them.

My father loved to fish for smelt which ran in the winter. He and my uncle who owned a fish market would go out in their small boat together. My father would keep some of the fish and give my uncle the rest to sell. When he got home, my father cleaned the fish, meaning he took off their heads and removed their entrails, and my mother cooked them. First she coated the fish in flour then she fried them in oil. I really liked smelt.

Friday suppers were my favorites. We couldn’t eat meat back then, but I didn’t care. My mother’s Friday night suppers were renowned. I remember the fish sticks and fries. I used to open the oven to sneak a peek and steal a French fry if nobody was looking. Fried dough was one of my favorites. My mother would buy frozen dough, and once it was defrosted, she’d stretch pieces of the dough and cook it in her cast iron frying pan. We all stood by the counter waiting. We used to put butter and salt on the fried dough. I remember the butter sometimes puddled in the little troughs, the uneven spots on the dough. We devoured every piece of that dough.

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