Category Archives: Whimsies

O Sole Mio

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While I am away in Chicago visiting Bill’s mother for a couple of days, here is a previously-written blog post about an earlier trip to Chicago. This post was first published in September 2014.

Eatily tomatoesEveryone has heard some version of the song referred to in the title of this blog post. Literally translated, it means “my sunshine.”I wanted to sing this song at the top of my lungs the other day as Bill and I wandered through one of the most amazing and fabulous places I have ever visited – Eataly. It felt like my sunshine.

Before I tell you about my amazing day in a place as close to Italy as possible without getting on an airplane and flying for seven or eight hours in a seat that only reclines a tenth of an inch, I have to tell you a bit about my love affair with Lidia Bastianich.

She is known in our family simply as Lidia, similar to Madonna or Cher or Bono. If I mention Lidia, I don’t have to explain who I mean. She has had a variety of cooking shows on PBS for many years, and has about a million cookbooks, all of which I own. I like her obvious love of food and simple cooking and preparing a meal for your family. My ideals about cooking imitate hers.

While she has restaurants around the United States, she lives in New York City and her first restaurants were there. And a couple of years ago, along with another famous chef – Mario Batali – and her son Joe Bastianich, she founded a food market – and I use that term loosely in this case – called Eataly.

Jen and Bec visited New York City’s Eataly recently during their trip, and I was very envious. I looked on line to get a little more information, and was delighted – simply thrilled in fact – to learn that there is an Eataly in downtown Chicago with an even bigger footprint than the one in NYC.

“Please please please?” I begged Bill. “Can we take one day out of our visit to your mom’s to go to Eataly?”

He agreed without a second thought.

I told you yesterday about our fun day in general terms. But we literally spent the entire afternoon in this amazing, well, I don’t even know quite what to call it. It is an Italian food  market, but there are places to eat and an amazing wine store featuring wines from all the regions of Italy.

In fact, one of the most amazing things about this market is that it featured foodstuffs from all over Italy. For example, the olive oils were divided into all of the various Italian regions – Umbia, Tuscany, Sicily, and so forth. There were literally shelves of olive oils…..

olive oils eatily

 

The cheese selection nearly took my breath away…

cheese and hameataly cheese selection

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is Eataly’s selection of JUST BLEU CHEESES….

eataly bleu cheese

Bill and I have been lucky enough in our lives to spend considerable amount of time in Italy, and while I love all things American, I miss a few things that I think are difficult to find in the United States. Or at least in Denver. One of these is a really true espresso macchiato. Most coffee places offer a macchiato that really is nothing more than a latte. An Italian macchiato is simple and divine. Guess what? They offered it at Eataly….

macciato Eatily

All of the breads are baked in a wood-burning oven….

eataly bakery

We wandered around and looked at the selections of produce and cheeses and meats and seafood and canned goods and were swept back to our days in Italy. With such a selection of foods, it took us considerable time to decide what to eat. We elected instead of going to the sit-down café where they bring food to you, we would go to one of the various stations where you could buy meat or cheese or pizza and make your own lunch. So we ordered a selection of salumi e formaggi, which they served on a wooden peel with bread and olive oil. Ah YUM!

eataly lunchboard

eatily lunch

 

Vacation Treasures

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While I am away visiting Bill’s mom in Chicago for a few days, here is the first of a couple of posts previously written during another trip to Chicago. This post was first published in September 2014.

imgresThis year has been the year for summer road trips. For me, that’s a good thing. I do enjoy a trip down I-80.

We spent the past week in Chicago visiting Bill’s mom. We never mind the drive because, just like we do when we drive to Phoenix, we do it in two days instead of one. Denver to Council Bluffs, Iowa, and then on to Chicago the next day. By driving, we have access to our car and don’t have to deal with a rental car.

But best of all, we get to enjoy the interesting, and almost always funny, things that happen along the way.

Here is some of what we experienced this past week, both on the road and while in Chicago…..

The first day, we noticed an inordinate number of Corvettes. By time we had reached Kearney, Nebraska, we had probably seen something like 70 or 80 Corvettes. We began speculating as to why we saw so many. Clearly it couldn’t be accidental.

We stopped at a rest stop somewhere near York, Nebraska, and pulled up next to three Corvettes. I couldn’t resist, and asked one of the owners why we were seeing so many Corvettes on I-80.

He and his wife were more than happy to explain.

“We are all driving to Bowling Green, Kentucky, where these cars were manufactured,” they told us. “There will be somewhere around 7,000 Corvettes there this weekend to enjoy the festivities the plant is providing.”

They also told us that many of the drivers were going to stop in Lincoln, Nebraska, to spend the night. This information caused Bill McLain to exit at Lincoln in order to find the hotel at which many, many Corvettes would be parked. Though we gave it the ol’ college try, we were unable to find the hotel.

Still, here is a photo of the three cars at the rest stop….

corvette show

joseph great grandmaOur daughter and her family joined us in Chicago, and 5-year-grandma micahold Joseph and 2-year-old Micah spent quality time with their great grandmother….

micah scooter

One of the things Bill’s 97-year-old mom was eager to do during our visit was show me the new Meijer’s store near her house. Meijer’s is a midwestern grocery chain that offers enormous varieties of almost everything. So, if you’re looking for bacon, instead of four or five brands, you will find 20 or 30….

bacon counter meijers

The Meijer’s store we visited was even larger than the one at which we had shopped previously. I seriously am not sure I’ve ever visited a larger grocery store. I would call it a Super Walmart on steroids.

For example, the Hostess display offered many choices….

hostess counter meijers (1)

As you can imagine, Joseph was delighted with the Lego offerings….

legos

The sheer number of EVERYTHING made me laugh.

On our way back home, we stopped at what is literally the world’s largest truck stop — the Iowa 80 Truck Stop. It is seriously enormous. In addition to many fast food restaurants and an inordinate number of things that truckers simply can’t live without — which apparently includes All Things Chrome — there are at least three semi-trucks located INSIDE THE STORE. Now that’s a big truck stop. We stop almost every time.

This time, Bill pulled a Diet Coke from the refrigerated case, and this is what what he found on the bottle as part of their new advertising campaign….

diet coke bottle

What are the chances of that?

Are We There Yet?

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I mentioned on a couple of occasions that Heather and Lauren and the boys drove from Vermont to Colorado for Thanksgiving this year. That is 1,937.8 miles for a total of 29 hours. I got that information from Google, and I’m pretty sure Google was not accounting for many potty breaks for a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old nor for frequent stops so that kids’ legs can be stretched, tummies filled, and fights abated.

Going home, the first day they drove from Denver to Chicago — arriving in the Windy City around 3 o’clock in the morning. They had a quick visit the next day with Wilma, and hit the road once again. Before finally arriving home very many hours later, they had to stop at Lauren’s father’s house — about an hour from Montpelier — to pick up their dog, Merlin.

Heather kept us informed about their whereabouts via Facebook. Here is the final photo, and it certainly made me smile….

Joseph Micah Merlin

Imagine that those boys were still smiling after over 30 hours on the road. Merlin looks pretty happy too.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: Come Rain or Come Shine

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searchPotentially, this could be the shortest book review ever. All I REALLY would have to say is that there is a new Mitford book by author Jan Karon entitled Come Rain or Come Shine. Boom. Everyone can correctly assume that I loved the book.

The fictional town of Mitford, North Carolina, makes me happy. I am fully aware that such a wonderful community where everyone gets along and loves one another doesn’t exist. Still, isn’t it so nice to read about something like the friendly folks of Mitford instead of about pain, and murder, and bickering, and poverty, and the horrors of the real world, especially during this time of the year?

In Come Rain or Come Shine, Dooley – who we met in Karon’s first Mitford novel At Home in Mitford – has graduated from veterinarian’s school, set up a practice and is finally getting married to his long-time girlfriend Lace (who we also met in the first novel). Typical for the young couple, they want to make their wedding simple and inexpensive, and to include all of the people they love. They decide, then, to make it a pot luck affair to be held at the ranch where they will reside after they are married.

Since nothing ever goes entirely as planned in Mitford (or in real life), the novel offers a series of surprises and unexpected joys. While Dooley and Lace have to be flexible with their plans and the wedding doesn’t go as smoothly as one would hope, Karon’s story gives us a full picture of love – the love of friends and the love for and of God. The amazing and vivid trust that the people of this town have in God’s provides for a joyful read.

And let’s not forget the wonderful food that is always a part of Mitford – and Karon’s wonderful stories.

Come Rain or Come Shine was written a bit differently than Karon’s previous novels. The point of view changed with each chapter. Being an avid Mitford fan, I was able to recognize whose point of view was being presented in each chapter. However, I would think that if someone picked up the novel without having read Karon’s previous works, it might have taken some time to recognize the point of view. If I have any criticism, that is it.

One of the best parts of the novel, I felt, was getting to know Lace a bit better. While she has been part of the Mitford series from the beginning, she has never played a major role. I enjoyed learning more about who she is and how she thinks.

This is a grand book for someone wanting to read a happy story during this time of year. I strongly recommend it.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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White Christmas
Though Bill and I purchased (along with Jen) a house in AZ to avoid cold and snowy weather, we inevitably must endure some in October, November, and December. In fact, this year it snowed during the night before Thanksgiving Day, and for much of that day. I try to maintain a reasonably good attitude about the cold. After all, for the most part, I don’t have to drive on the icy roads since I don’t have a job. Bill is particularly susceptible to the cold because of his Parkinson’s (although admittedly he has never liked cold weather; funny for someone who grew up in Chicago). The other day when we left church, he stated the weather was “brutal.” I oh-so-helpfully pointed out that 32 degrees is not brutal. Zero degrees is brutal. He oh-so-patiently pointed out to me that what is considered brutal weather is perhaps different for each person. Whatevah.

Snowy Football
imgresAnd speaking of the weather, Sunday night’s football game, featuring the Denver Broncos and the New England Patriots (the Bronco’s won; did you know that?) was played in the snow. I HATE to watch football played in the snow. Even when I’m snug and warm under a blanket in my living room as I was Sunday night. I just think it’s such sloppy football and I always feel sorry for the players,  all of the folks along the sideline, and the people who chose to go to the game despite the weather because they paid somewhere near a million dollars for their ticket. The Broncos used to have a fan who wore nothing but an orange barrel to each and every home game. The so-called Barrel Man was even at cold and snowy games wearing his barrel and nothing else (well, I never checked…..) He has since passed away, perhaps from pneumonia. Anyway, the funny thing is that we got no more than an inch or less of snow here at our house in southeast Denver. Jen got just a few flakes. I really think the snow only fell at Mile High Stadium! That’s perfect, because nationally televised football games in the snow always help the Colorado ski industry.

Wrap It Up
I think I am finished with all of my Christmas shopping for the grandkids. Now I just have to wrap the presents. I can’t tell you how much I dislike wrapping gifts, and my distaste shows in the final product. Put the paper on the gift, stick on too much scotch tape, slap on a gift tag, no bow or ribbon. Done. Jen told me recently that I used to like to wrap gifts. Jen often tells me what I like and don’t like. Mostly she’s right. Except I don’t think she’s right that I used to like to wrap gifts. Her reasoning was that Mom always had me wrap all of the Christmas gifts. That doesn’t seem like proof positive. Here is a conversation that would NEVER have happened: Mom – Kris, I want you to wrap the Christmas gifts this afternoon. Kris – I hate wrapping Christmas gifts. I’m not going to do it. Mom – Okay Honey, I will do it myself so you don’t have to be bothered.

Off We Go
We are leaving Friday for a quick trip to see Bill’s mother in Chicago. As you will notice, next Monday’s and Tuesday’s posts are reruns of previous posts. Both posts are from an earlier trip we took to Chicago. Wilma moved into an assisted living unit from her fairly spacious apartment in the same senior complex about a month ago. We are eager to see her new digs, and to spend a little time with her just before the holidays. Bill’s younger brother will be arriving to spend Christmas with Wilma.

Ciao!

Et Tu Etsy?

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Last time I talked to you about my crocheting addiction, I mentioned that I was considering opening an Etsy shop. Etsy, for those of you who don’t frequent Hobby Lobby, Michaels, or Jo-Ann’s, who don’t have burnt fingers covered with glue from a glue gun, and whose hands don’t ache from knitting, crocheting, quilting, or sewing, is an internet site from which crafters or others wanting to sell miscellaneous items (e.g. vintage jewelry, items acquired from a garage sale, etc.) can open a shop and sell their wares. (Wow. That last sentence was 68 words. I’m going to make up for my poor writing. How? Here’s what I will do. My sentences will be short. Blog brevity will prevail. At least until this paragraph is over. My sister Bec – a former English teacher – has out her red pen.)

But back to Etsy. I did, in fact, open up a shop. It is called Nanas Whimsies Shop. I didn’t accidentally leave out the possessive apostrophe. For reasons I don’t quite understand (being an Etsy neophyte), I wasn’t able to include the necessary apostrophe when I named my shop. The grammatical error will bother me for as long as the shop lives.

I opened the shop while we were in Arizona a few weeks ago visiting our winter house. While I have a number of things made, I only posted two for sale in my shop – a pretty rose, gray, and cream vintage ripple afghan and a Christmas afghan. I decided to leave the two afghans in Mesa when we returned to Denver because I figured it would take some time before I would sell anything. Weeks and weeks. Months, maybe. If ever.

Well, as it turns out, Monday evening I got an email from someone interested in the vintage ripple. Was it warm and snuggly, she asked me. I wrote her back and assured her that it was, indeed, heavy and warm, as well as big. It would cover a queen-sized bed, I explained to her.

Yesterday morning when I opened up my email, I was greeted by a cheerful message from Etsy: Congratulations! You have made your first sale.

Awesome, I thought. Except for the fact that the afghan which had just sold wasn’t even in the same STATE as I.

What to do, what to do? I actually momentarily considered booking a flight to Phoenix to get the afghan ready to mail. That, of course, would have been silly for many reasons, not the least being it would have cost me more to fly than the cost of the afghan.

But, I reminded myself, I have resources. Friends in high places. Several nieces, a sister, and a sister-in-law, all of whom live in the Phoenix area, and many of whom possess keys to my house and love me. (I also have a brother and many nephews but I didn’t want to have to explain Etsy to them. Even Bill doesn’t quite understand it, and, in fact, continually calls it ES-TY rather that ET-SY. I blame that on his dyslexia. And the fact that it’s a dumb name.)

Anyhoo, the job duty landed on my sister-in-law, Sami, who returned the telephone call first (in other words, she drew the short straw). She was familiar with what to do, and did it quickly and perfectly. I will owe her big time.

In the meantime, check out Nanas Whimsies Shop (dang, I yearn for that apostrophe) and check it out. Unfortunately, there is only one afghan posted, but there will be much more to come when my wares and my body are in the same place. Here’s a preview….

purple afghan draped

Awesome textured afghan in brilliant shades of purple.

3 baskets lined up

A set of three baskets, each with a lid.

pillow

A baby soft pillow, made from the softest chenille yarn you can imagine.

 

On Being Thankful

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The problem with the Christmas season starting somewhere around the Ides of March this year is that Thanksgiving was really sort of an afterthought. For some, anyway. Not for moi. Because in my opinion, Thanksgiving (despite what the song says) is the most wonderful time of the year. Food and family. That’s it. No worrying about gifts. There’s lots of football. There is an underlying understanding that we are all going to eat too much, and that understanding comes with a firm conviction that REAL WHIPPED CREAM is okay. Lots of real whipped cream.

In my family of origin, we always had a designated cream whipper. For most of my formative years, it was I. We didn’t use an electric mixer. Instead Mom had a hand mixer with a little handle that you turned very fast and for a long time until you felt like your hand was going to fall off and the cream was light and fluffy. “Don’t whip it too long,” my mother would always tell me. “It will turn into butter.” As a child, I thought that was just something she made up. But as an adult, I read an article on how to make homemade butter. You guessed it. You whip heavy cream for a really long time. It happened to me once, and it was the first time I visited my in-laws on Thanksgiving. I generously offered to whip the cream, and I did it for just a tish too long. It wasn’t butter, but it wasn’t quite whipped cream either. That was the same year that I offered to chop the celery for Wilma to put in her dressing. She watched me for a bit, and when she could stand it no longer, she said, “Do you think you’re chopping that celery fine enough?” Nope, I thought, I guess I’m not. I chopped it finer.

This year the McLains from Vermont joined us at our Thanksgiving table. And when I say “our table” I really mean Dave and Jll’s table. For many years, I hosted Thanksgiving. But we finally outgrew our house. There are only so many ways you can situate card tables to fit what amounts to a family the size of a small Vietnamese village. In fact, the other day, I saw a photo on Facebook of Mitt Romney’s Thanksgiving family table. When I showed it to Bill, he started to laugh.

Here is the Mitt Romney family this Thanksgiving…..

Romneys, 2015

Romneys, 2015

Here is our family at a recent family gathering…..

McLain gathering

This wasn’t taken this most recent Thanksgiving. Too few people. But it gives you a sense of what we look like when we gather.

The only difference is that the patriarch in our family has not run for president.

Our dinner table this Thanksgiving sat 22 folks filled with gratitude, which included all of our children and their spouses, all of our grandchildren, Jll’s mother, my sister, and a friend of the family with no other Thanksgiving dinner plans. Everyone pitched in with food, all of which was delicious. Our serving style wouldn’t pass muster at a White House dinner (or probably at the Romneys), it being somewhat of a free-for-all. After our meal and our desserts, many hands helped clear the table, rinse the dishes, load the dishwasher (it required several loads), sweep the floor, wipe off the table, and prepare the bags of leftovers for all of us to take home.

I, for one, got two entire meals out of my leftovers.

The Vermonters  got in their car the next morning and took off for their long two-day trip home. Two. Long. Days. With a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old.

I am thankful for the many gifts that God has given me throughout my life. But I am most thankful for my blessed family.

Here, by the way, was my first turkey leftover meal, a turkey shepherd’s pie of sorts….

turkey shepherds pie

I have no recipe. I simply cut up my turkey, mixed it with gravy, added some frozen peas and vegetables (I would have used the green bean casserole but somehow didn’t end up with any of it), and topped the dishes with mashed potatoes. I served leftover dressing on the side. It baked in a 375 degree oven for about 35 minutes until the potatoes were starting to brown. It was delicious.

Vigilance

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Anyone who grew up in the West or Midwest has heard of the National Western Stock Show, held each January in Denver. The National Western Stock Show is to cowboys what the Super Bowl is to football fans. Bill has been a member of the National Western for over 30 years, though admittedly he’s not a cowboy. We used to make an annual trek to the National Western complex just to walk around and see all the things we couldn’t live without if we were ranchers. And each year, as part of our activities, we would attend a rodeo.

1203338132_9oC39-MI always enjoyed the rodeo, but the activity of which I was most leery was the calf roping. The handlers would open a gate and send out a calf, which would run as fast as it could across the arena. A cowboy on a horse in strong pursuit would then twirl his rope and toss it (he hoped) around the neck of a calf, bringing said calf to a halt. A sudden halt. Gaaak.

I would always flinch, despite the announcer’s annual assurance that the calf wasn’t hurt by the practice, nope, not one teeny little bit. That sudden stop from a 30 mph run via a rope around its neck didn’t cause a bit of angst or pain for that little fella. Nosireebob. Nobody, however, asked the calf.

family room tree

Instead of a big tree in the family room, I am happy with my little table-top tree.

I thought about those poor calves yesterday when I realized it was the first Sunday of Advent. I think you will all agree with me that Christmas comes earlier each year. Oh, I know that it actually comes at the same time – December 25 – but it seems earlier because the season starts earlier. I remember when I wouldn’t start my Christmas shopping until December 1 or so. This year, by the second week in November I was a basket case because my shopping wasn’t done. Or started. Christmas decorations had been up in the stores for weeks. By mid-November, I had already seen several of my least favorite commercials – the ones with some kind of expensive car sitting in someone’s driveway with a huge bow attached to the top of the car. Seriously, those commercials get on my very last nerve. I challenge you all to tell me even one person who got a car as a Christmas present. And if they did, I’m certain – CERTAIN – there was no bow.

Grandkids decorating the angel tree.

Grandkids decorating the angel tree.

But I digress. As our deacon lit the first of the Advent candles, I came to my senses. Stop it right now, I told myself. Because you see, I had gotten so caught up in worrying about buying  Christmas presents and wrapping them and decorations and baking and such that I had forgotten to slow down and enjoy the season, which really is only now beginning. I felt like the calf coming to a sudden stop. Except I didn’t have a rope around my neck.

St. Luke’s gospel reminded me that this is the time of year when I should be thinking not only about the birth of Baby Jesus, but also about the Son of Man coming in glory someday. Jesus said “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness AND THE ANXIETIES OF DAILY LIFE….. Be vigilant at all times.”

I’ll be perfectly honest. I’m not too worried about my becoming drowsy from carousing and drunkenness (though I did enjoy the Beaujolais nouveau at our wonderful Thanksgiving dinner). I am worried, however, of getting so caught up in the anxieties that this season invariably brings to us that I forget that I should instead be enjoying this time of joy. The house doesn’t have to look perfect. The kids won’t die if they don’t have enough presents. Slow down, and  remember that Advent is a time to prepare for the birth of Jesus.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Saturday Smile: What Up?

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This past week I was able to be in the same room with all of my grandkids on numerous occasions, making me so very happy. For the first time in well, maybe, ever, ALL nine of our grandkids helped decorate the angel tree that lives in our living room at Christmastime. At one point, Joseph came over to me and said, “Nana, did you know that almost all of the ornaments on this tree are angels?” I explained to him that in fact ALL of the ornaments were angels which is why I call it my angel tree. He smiled and continued putting angels on the tree.

all the grands angel tree

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner, and also bringing a smile to my face was seeing our son Court with his youngest son Cole, dressed for the cold weather and snow and ready to feast. Since they’re dressed like twins, I will tell you that Court’s the one on the right….

court cole twins

But while I did a lot of smiling this past week, one thing clearly took the cake in the smile department. Three-year-old Micah is a natural clown. And 10-year-old Alastair doesn’t often have boy cousins with which to play. One evening the two boys went off together to play. After about a half hour, Alastair appeared and presented to us the newest musical sensation — Micah the Rapper…..

Rapper Micah 2015

There you have it…..MC Micah. Most rap stars wear shoes.

Have a great weekend.

Thursday Thoughts: The Wednesday Edition

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Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I am giving you my Thursday Thoughts a day early, and am not creative enough to change the name.

A Toothy Matter
Monday when we all went climbing (don’t you like how I make it sound like I climbed too?), the first thing some of the kids did was use the bathroom. A few minutes later, Dagny came out of the bathroom with a piece of paper towel rolled in a ball. “Nana, will you hold this for me?” she asked. I agreed to hold it and asked her what it was. “My tooth,” she said. “I just pulled it in the bathroom and I don’t want to lose it.” Well, then. It remained safely tucked into the pocket of my jeans for the remainder of the day until we joined them for dinner. I never actually looked at it, because she described in great detail the sheer unattractiveness of it. And, by the way, no tooth fairy for Dagny. She told me she’s saving all her teeth. I’m not sure why. Perhaps one day when she is a famous-something-or-other (which she undoubtedly will be), the teeth will sell on Ebay for a great sum of money.

Dagny's tooth

Dagny’s tooth is wrapped up somewhere in that paper towel.

Another Toothy Matter
Dagny wasn’t alone in her tooth misery. Yesterday afternoon Bill and I were eating lunch. Chicken wings were on our menu. We were enjoying them immensely when suddenly Bill made a funny sound and spit out a crown that had come off in his mouth. Whaaaaat? Two days before Thanksgiving? That’s bad luck. I offered to carry it in my pocket in a paper towel, but he declined my offer. The tooth is currently temporarily glued back on and a dentist appointment is scheduled.

Half a Cow

Top - uncooked prime rib roast; Bottom - roasted and sliced and ready to eat!

Top – uncooked prime rib roast; Bottom – roasted and sliced and ready to eat!

Since we are being visited by the Vermont McLains, I offered to cook dinner for the whole fam damily on Tuesday night. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I decided to serve a prime rib dinner. Yes, my friends, a mere two days before Thanksgiving, we sat down en masse to eat half a cow. Twelve pounds of deliciousness. And a cooking adventure only two days before the cooking-adventure-of-the-year that is Thanksgiving. Call me crazy, but don’t forget to call me to dinner. (Bada bing!) And, by the way, it’s only a couple of times a year that every single solitary one of my grandkids are under one roof, and last night was one of those nights. My heart is full of happiness as I watch them play together. And play they did, taking only a break for dinner. Then they played some more until, one by one, they began sidling up to their respective parents and looking ready for bed.

Last Last Shop
My sister Bec and I have a running Thanksgiving joke. We do what we always call our “last grocery shop” for preparation of Thanksgiving dinner. And then we do another “last shop” and then another and another. We will text each other and say we are doing our fourth “last shop.” So yesterday morning, I did what I hope is my last last shop, and I’m not sorry about that. The grocery stores were nuts, as they always are the days just prior to Thanksgiving. We went to Costco on Sunday during the Bronco game because we thought it would be quieter. No such luck. Apparently everyone had the same idea. And the shopping carts at Costco are huge and it appeared everyone left their common sense at home because there were innumerable instances of blocked aisles as people looked at books or Christmas decorations or pumpkin pies. But I tried to be patient. Patience, unfortunately, is not one of my virtues.

I won’t be posting a blog tomorrow in honor of Thanksgiving. Enjoy the day, your friends and family, and be thankful for all of our gifts. Happy Thanksgiving.