The portal to the rabbit hole is in my purse

Anchal*, this really old Indian woman who works in my building gave me this “special breed” tangerine.  We we’re on the elevator .  “Happy Holidays” she said with (was it? yes it was) an almost imperceptible conspiratorial nod and a mirthful twinkle in her eye.   She also gave me a mini Hershey bar.  I ate the Hershey right away.  Who doesn’t eat a Hershey’s right away?

The orange, on the other hand,  gave me pause; which is why it’s still in the vast wasteland otherwise known as my purse.  I mean what kinda trip was Anchal tryina send me on with this “special” orange?  While I pondered whether I should enjoy the pulpy holiday gift I did a photo shoot of it.  It was a a slow day at work and I have lots of construction paper at my job.  I’m a Librarian. Construction paper is par for the course in La vie en Bibliotheque.

it really is a lovely orange...

but I see your 'true' colors too. mmm hmm.

*Names have been changed to protect the enchanted Indian woman who’s been working at the Library for centuries.

Focusing on Day 5 of the 30 Day Blogging Challenge

Post a picture of yourself 2 years ago:

This pic was taken in a hotel room. My sis and I had gone on a little vacation to my home town Savannah, GA.  The date stamp is wrong. It was actually 7/29/09. Seems like yesterday. I have a journal entry from that very day (actually written with a stylus on bound leaves of paper in an antiquated item called a book 🙂 ) I’ll share an exerpt :

“I have so many memories here. Some beautiful, some complicated. I remember my grandmother. She was Savannah to me.  I remember coming to her for summers. It was like I couldn’t breathe ’til I got her in my sights. She and my grandpa’d be standing in their small tree filled yard (which had the best nooks and crannies. The shrubs often made for epic games of hide and seek.)  My grandfather built the house and they landscaped that yard themselves. 

I was waiting to exhale. Couldn’t do it til I saw her smiling face. Someone was waiting for me…and it made ne feel magical. My grandmother’s tiny Chatham City cinder-block home was an enchanted palace where I never failed to soar.”

It was a good time.