What the heck IS havla?

So my mom and the younger brothers came down yesterday to visit us for Christmas. Along with gifts, pictures, cookies, pie, and love what does she pull out of one of the many bags? A big chunk of havla! Then she has the nerve to ask me if I know what it is. Of course I know what it is, it’s havla! This was one of Dad’s favorite foods and, as kids, my brothers and I would beg and plead for bits of this sweet treat. When that didn’t work we’d lay in wait and sneak some. We had to be careful not to get too greedy, because my mom only bought little chunks of it at a time and Dad would definitely notice.

When Mom was trying to slice it yesterday she started to mumble about how she couldn’t get it to slice. I reminded her that it NEVER slices but just crumbles into yummy bits of goodness. Turns out though that my brothers have decided they don’t like it anymore (weirdoes) and so now I have small plate of havla bits in the refrigerator that I can have all to myself (turns out TheHusband isn’t too fond of it either). So today, after several nibbles, I wanted to figure out exactly what this “havla” is. And really what I have discovered is that there are so many things about my Dad that I don’t know.

It turns out that havla is a Middle Eastern dessert. HUH?!? A Middle Eastern dessert? Now I’m wondering how this man, who was raised by two German born immigrants in the middle of North Dakota came across this wonderful dessert and added it to his list of favorite foods. So far what I’ve found indicates that this dessert originates from Turkey (my information is coming from the internet, so I admit it could be faulty). And since Turkey and Germany are both part of the European continent, it is possible that his parents, or grandparents more likely, discovered this food before coming to the U.S..

Guess it’s just one of those things I’ll never get to ask him about. While that makes me a little sad, I am happy today. I have havla in the fridge and good thoughts in my heart.

A Pregnant Rollerskate

TheHusband and I went and picked up my "new" used car tonight. It is a 2001 Volkswagen Beetle. This car makes me smile for so many reasons. Not only is it just a down right cute car, but we got an excellent deal on it (almost $4000 below the book value because the husband knows the dealer) and it has loads of features.

But what makes me smile the most is that it reminds me of Dad. No, he never owned one (at least that I know of), but whenever he saw one he would call it a pregnant rollerskate. Which then reminds me of all the other things that he named or said differently. . .

Real word/item: VW Beetle Dad's word: pregnant rollerskate
Real word/item: recipe Dad's word: pronounced "receipt"
Real word/item: library Dad's word: pronounced "libary"

I know Dad would make fun of me for buying a pregnant rollerskate, but I know he would secretly be happy for me. Besides, according to TheHusband's research, the VW Beetle is the safest car in its class. Safe and cute, who wouldn't want his daughter to have this car? =)

Then the phone rang. . .

Today was a tough day.

A coworker called me early this morning (yes, I was already at work) because she couldn't find any other number to call (she just started a few weeks ago). She was only looking for the cell phone number of her supervisor so she could call them to let them know she wouldn't be in to work because her father died last night.

When she told me, it was like getting the air knocked right out of me. All day I have been thinking of her and praying for her and her mom. I have also been thinking a lot about Dad today. Every now and then I catch myself just staring off into space. I hurt for her, and for me. I know that pain, and even though I don't know her very well I just want to take it away for her. But I can't, and I can't take it away for me. . . and there I go just staring off into space again.

It gets easier right? Or at least not so hard. . . .