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| Brunch at Carshons' |
The cottage is strangely quiet
and empty. Sophie and I had long naps, and I know she is disappointed that all
her favorite people disappeared. But such a great weekend we had with family,
friends, fun, music, laughter, and maybe just a bit of wine … okay more than a
bit.
The family met at Joe T.’s for
dinner Friday night—some worried about the heat but we didn’t eat until eight o’clock,
and between the fans and a nice breeze, it was a lovely night to sit on the
patio. We came home, sat around the cottage, talking—the teenagers left us, of
course—and about eleven-thirty I kicked them all out. Next day I learned that some
of them stayed up until three, and Jordan and Jamie were up until four-thirty, listening
to his guitar, talking, laughing.
This weekend was an eating
marathon, as we went to all the kids’ favorite places. Saturday lunch found us
at Carshon’s Deli, where the kids have been eating since they were infants. Mary
accommodated twelve of us—grandson Kegan loves matzo ball soup, and Jamie
ordered that too. For my kids, it’s mostly a chance to have food they never get
anywhere else. I had lox and cream cheese but no bagel—toasted rye for me.
Saturday night, a very few
close friends joined us for happy hour and then we had poor boy sandwiches and
cake—lots of cake, several cakes, a plethora of cake. When Jamie went
Megam
home this
morning he took with him leftover Joe T.’s plus one and a half cakes plus two
German pancakes he stopped and got at Ol’ South. I was afraid he’d be on a
sugar high by the time he got to Frisco. I admit that Saturday night I crashed,
and I said to Jamie and Megan I thought I suddenly felt my age. But I think it
was more that I hadn’t slept well the night before, it was a tiring if happy day, and we
started happy hour at four. Even though I had tiny bits of wine, I think my
glass was refilled too often.
After a good night’s sleep, I
was fine this morning and ready for a trip to Ol’ South, next on the kids list.
Once again twelve of us, and lots of memories.
In other things than food,
Colin did some repairs around the house—pronounced my
Colin and Soiphie
automatic garbage can
dead, and I have ordered a new one. He replaced the handle/lock mechanism on my
bathroom door and promised to do a better job next time. To me, it works and
doesn’t fall off the door, as it had been doing, so that was fine. He also did
some computer work and paired my new phone to my watch. Christian had
previously paired it to the telephone, so now I’m all set to go. Jamie, as
always, did a lot for me, including feeding Sophie and giving her insulin shots.
And Megan and I had long talks about everything, especially restaurants and
food. I am so fortunate that my kids are my best friends—and have such a close
relationship with each other. Sometimes I think Norman Rockefeller should come
back to life and paint a picture of us. I guess the snaps from Joe T.’s and
Carshon’s will have to do.
I am so grateful to Jordan who
orchestrated the entire weekend, planning food, making lists,
Jordan and the cakes
putting out a
happy hour spread followed by sandwich makings. She had everything under
control and is the reason we all had such a good time. Christian helped so much
and took lots of pictures on Saturday night. I am chagrined when I look at
them, because I look bored, tired, whatever—I was none of those things. I
enjoyed every minute. (I once had a dear friend who said it was too bad I didn’t
look as good in pictures as I do in real life—I cling to that thought.) Megan
worried at dinner Friday night that I was in the middle of the table, between
two conversations and part of neither. She needn’t have worried. I like just
seeing them all together.
And those teenagers. One
friend, who has known my family forty years, said each of the teens stopped to
speak to her. So grateful for their good manners. They are wildly different,
but all good kids, and their joy at seeing each other was evident. Okay, they
eventually looked bored at dinner Friday night, so 
Granddaughter Eden and
the flowers she brought me
much so we wanted to laugh.
But they are a delight.
What can I say except that
turning eighty-five (really? I can’t believe it!) is a breeze when you have all
this happiness all around you.
Sophie’s going to have a hard
time adjusting to the quiet in the cottage.
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