Craving: Marshmallows


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Not the sickly little white pellets you purchase in the store.

But the sticky squares of goodness I used to make with my sister. They were delicious. Rolled in toasted coconut they were addictive. We would tint them pink, because we were silly like that and liked everything in pink.

Everyone thought we were odd for making our marshmallows. All that trouble. The beating and beating and beating to make them perfectly fluffy. Finally, when we were finished they would eat one, if only to prove us wrong for our fiendish love. You would watch their eyes widen with delight as the homemade addiction would melt in their mouth.

I miss marshmallows. I miss my sister who would make them with me.

I wish she'd come home. I'll promise to make her marshmallows if she will.


3 Responses to “Craving: Marshmallows”

  1. Anonymous vdoprincess 

    Aw, sweetie, don't cry. I miss you too. Next time I come home we'll make our very marshmallow chicks and then we'll roll them in cocoanut to make them fuzzy and then we'll bit off their heads. And laugh diabolically.
    :)

  2. Anonymous joy 

    Ooooh! I'll totally smash your fuzzy chicks with either an open palm, or a closed fist, I do so love torturing marshmallow creatures. That's probably one of the best things about this upcoming holiday: the opportunity to tyrannize chicks.

    ^^ That paragraph worries me a little.

  3. Anonymous vdoprincess 

    Then you would be right at home here.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.


I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


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