This morning the jet lag woke me at the ungodly hour of 5am. My flesh is screaming to stay in bed but, my mind is wide awake. So in saying that, it gives me a perfect opportunity to catch up my the back load of posts for my blog.
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As my sister and I were growing up there was a special treat that we awoke to early on a Saturday morning. Now I'm sure this wasn't a weekly event but, I will go as far as my memory will let me to say this happened monthly. My mom has an extreme talent for making the best cinnamon buns! This particular weekend our family was once again all together. In the past years we would always try to guilt my mom into indulging us in her fresh from the oven buns. I'm not really sure if time just didn't allow, or maybe replicating our childhood memories were too daunting. While we were home this summer we awoke to the aroma of that old familiar smell permeating from the kitchen. It is funny how sounds, and particularly smells can transcend us back to fond memories. I have in the past taken a memory lane tour of where I grew up. As a child you view your surroundings with rose colored glasses. I found as I revisited my childhood neighborhood that I was disappointed. The memories I had as a child paled in comparison to the reality that stood before me. The cinnamon buns we devoured were as good as I remember. I won`t tell you the amount we ate, nor can I believe that I am posting a photo of me first thing in the morning. What I can tell you was that this was the perfect way for my mom to fill my soul with all things from home, which was what our visit back to Canada was all about!
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