Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the tag “national day calendar”

22 Jul 2026
7 Comments

Hammock Day!


I roundly celebrate hammock day!

I set up my hammock as soon as I possibly can, usually after June stops being so snively. A damp hammock is not joyful. Positioning the hammock so it gets a bit of the morning light but not too much of the afternoon sun is tricky, or it used to be. I solved the dilemma by purchasing a couple of patio umbrellas and then rigged up what I call my cabana curtains, which diffuse the direct sun. I then double pad for comfort with a couple of pillows.

Bliss

A side table for sunglasses, chapstick, binoculars, and my cool drink in my trusty Zulu.

I complete the scene with a good book. Usually there is a gentle, refreshing breeze which wafts my curtains. The Hubs refers to this set up as my Sheba time.

Naps are delicious in my hammock.

However, the last couple of days have seen temps over 85 and even setting up a fan by the hammock can’t combat the heat and I hide inside until evening, then it’s hammock time once again until bedtime.

I stubbornly keep my hammock up until the very last remnants of summer fade. I’ve been known to cozy under a special insulated blanket just so I can enjoy a wee bit more time in my hammock.

Here’s to the joy of Hammock Day!

The best part of summer is hammock time.

Posted in reflections and tagged , , ,
24 Aug 2022
14 Comments

Today is Waffle Day!


Waffles are wonderful

I follow the National Day Calendar and while I don’t relate to all the celebrated days (National Leathercraft Day did not do a thing for me, not even a summer camp memory of failed wristbands and key fobs), there are some like August 24th being National Waffle Day.

There are two breakfast camps: pancakes vs waffles. I could extol the wonders of waffles, how their warm and crunchy square golden perfection makes any dull morning sparkle, but then I might offend those who are satisfied with the blobs of dough identified as pancakes resting on their plates getting soggier by the nanosecond.

Clearly, waffles are winners in the breakfast arena of menu offerings.

My earliest memories of becoming a waffle connoisseur start when I am still in the finicky years of childhood, say sixish. My babysitter, a gem of an older woman known as Nettie, had such amazing patience. She had a waffle maker that was oblong, not the usual round variety, and it would produce four square delights of crispy dents that I would slather with butter and maple syrup. They had to be crispy, browned, not dark. Oh, I was demanding then.

Growing up I remember waffles more than pancakes, although there was a crepe phase for awhile. It takes many a crepe to make a decent filled effect. Pretty, yet not terribly satisfying. Waffles provide a square meal. Indeed they do.

Marriage and subsequent family days included a waffle maker. I can make a decent, even an exemplary pancake, but waffles are still the choice. When my sons had sleepovers their friends clamored for “Pamcakes” in the morning.

These days, in our empty nest era, waffles and pancakes are rare treats for we acknowledge the calories attached. By now, after 40 years of marriage, it would be ideal if my husband would acquire a taste for waffles, but he remains a pancake man through and through.

They do say opposites attract.

But we both agree that a waffle cone is the cone of choice for ice cream. Compromise will see us through to another 40 years.

Posted in America, Debatables, Family, food, humor, memories, reflections and tagged , ,

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