Cream Cheese and Almond Coffee Cake

Growing up, my family didn't go on my vacations.  At least not that I remember very well.  The ones we did go on happened when I was fairly young, before my younger siblings were born. Or at least before the last two were born.  I'm seven years older than the oldest of them and then nine and twelve years older than the next two.  So I imagine the dynamics of everything changed once the others started popping up.

It's funny, because I know we used to drive up to Boyne Mountain for picnicing, camping, and skiing.  At least I imagine that's what we did.  I don't actually remember much about actually being there.  I remember a bunch of other kids all in a big circle eating fat, juicy watermelon slices. I wasn't eating them, because even back then I didn't like watermelon.  But I remember trying it.  I've always tried to like it.  Just never succeeded.

Anyhoo.  I also remember playing the Monchichi hand clap game. Monchichi monchichi, I can do karate.  Monchichi monchichi, I can play Atari.  Monchichi, monchichi...oops, I'm sorry!  I remember sticking Bugles on the tips of my finger and pretending I had long, pointy fingernails.  I remember scooping up big heaps of bean dip using corn chips.