User:Jujube: Difference between revisions
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If you type ''lemony.space'' in your browser, you will get to a website. | If you type ''lemony.space'' in your browser, you will get to a website. | ||
I have had it for over six years now. The domain name was at first | I have had it for over six years now. The domain name was at first ''goodlemons.com'', but I changed it when I found out ".space" cost only a fraction of ".com." | ||
I used to be obsessed with lemons. My favorite dessert was a tart for which you use one, and only one, whole lemon for the filling. One year I spent Christmas with my friend's family in Portland, Oregon, a place with moss-covered trees and tree-lined streets. My friend's mom kept a lemon tree in the living room because it didn't like all the rain out there. It was a scrawny little tree with two branches and countable leaves, but it bore a fruit. My friend decided to make that tart in honor of the lemon's existence, and we all agreed. | I used to be obsessed with lemons. My favorite dessert was a tart for which you use one, and only one, whole lemon for the filling. One year I spent Christmas with my friend's family in Portland, Oregon, a place with moss-covered trees and tree-lined streets. My friend's mom kept a lemon tree in the living room because it didn't like all the rain out there. It was a scrawny little tree with two branches and countable leaves, but it bore a fruit. My friend decided to make that tart in honor of the lemon's existence, and we all agreed. | ||
Revision as of 23:19, 17 September 2018
If you type lemony.space in your browser, you will get to a website.
I have had it for over six years now. The domain name was at first goodlemons.com, but I changed it when I found out ".space" cost only a fraction of ".com."
I used to be obsessed with lemons. My favorite dessert was a tart for which you use one, and only one, whole lemon for the filling. One year I spent Christmas with my friend's family in Portland, Oregon, a place with moss-covered trees and tree-lined streets. My friend's mom kept a lemon tree in the living room because it didn't like all the rain out there. It was a scrawny little tree with two branches and countable leaves, but it bore a fruit. My friend decided to make that tart in honor of the lemon's existence, and we all agreed.
Around the same time, I bought a novel named Lemon, in which the protagonist fell in love with a lemon, about which I told a guy I fell for.
I wish I could say he sent me a basket of lemons or, perhaps, brought me a lemonade, but he broke my heart instead.
The "about" page of the website back then quoted Pablo Neruda, which yellow bird fills its nest with lemons?
When I learned Spanish years later, I would still repeat: el pájaro amarillo...el nido de limones...
I don't feel the same about lemons now, but I keep the namesake. It reminds me of stories that I forget from time to time.