The day has passed. We gathered and ate and talked and laughed. My roast, which I cooked according to about ten recipes (all pretty much the same), did not get done, so I cooked it some more. Then it got done and was really good. What a relief.
Here's who came: Lola, Shane, Patrick, Clayton, Andrew, Aaron, Nick, Paul, Tasha, Caroline. And Wayne in spirit.
Tasha brought lovely baked yellow Yukon potatoes and gluten free brownies. Lola brought a delicious broccoli salad, Shane mussels on the half-shell, Patrick mushroom hors d'oeuvres. Andrew a favorite of his--green bean casserole. And we had trimmings and sauces.
Oh yeah. I had about three dozen rolls--store bought and white, sorry--which I forgot to put out where people would know to grab one. That's kind of normal. But then I remembered, and they got eaten or carried home to someone's house.
And Lola brought ginger snaps and spice drops in honor of her dad.
I cannot remember all the jokes we told. I know there was some piano banging and still quite a bit of running around and up and down in the house, even though the children are growing up. Four legs dangled for a while between the balusters from the upstairs over the side--is that clear?--and there were basement adventures. Those boys entertain Caroline, and she loves them.
We also spoke to our Pennsylvania people, Alyce and Ann.
This reads like a report. And so it is. It seems impolite and unfinished to leave the event unreported upon.
Then there's this. I love my family. I know, I've said it before.
2 comments:
I love them too. I miss them. And it's easier to be grumpy about it than to feel how truly sad I am that there a huge distance between us.
You have such a good heart, Ann. It's true.
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