Actually, we got back from NY last Thursday. I didn’t have to cook dinner because Mom Guest tucked some chicken stew into an ice pack and we re-heated it with some Rockland Bakery hard rolls for supper. K had fallen asleep in Connecticut after declaring too loudly for us to hear the book on tape that the book on tape was boring. It wasn’t, the Penderwicks is hysterically funny when it isn’t being charming and sweet. But of all things, K wanted to hear me recite fairy tales to her.
It is an interesting experience to be considered a better story teller than Jeanne Birdsall.
Co-op and biology lab went smoothly on Friday, Saturday was a darling wedding with a barbershop quartet at the reception, and wonderful cake, and an interesting graveyard behind the church, where a lady named Submit Lewis, born 1740 is buried, and several Goffs, one of Dan’s family names, could they be related to us?
Sunday was calm and lovely. My Aunt and Uncle are living at my Mom’s house for now, having moved back from Brazil after 25 years. They are missing Brazil a great deal at the moment, so they cooked us some passion fruit mouse for desert. Yum. Serious yum.
And Monday… we can’t find M’s glasses, but he persevered through his schoolwork.
When Dan got home from work, I sheepishly told him that dinner hadn’t been started yet, but I’d finished the first draft of my new pattern. He struck a Ryan Gosling pose, and replied, “Hey Girl, I know how important writing is to you, we can eat dinner late, it’s no problem.”
Wow. Just wow.
Wow.