twenty

I

Twenty years ago today I wrote my first Ocean post. I had little idea where this was heading, how long I'd stay with it, what content would fill these pages. I did make one promise to myself: that I would try to find the time, the ideas, the internet to write something not entirely stupid, and not ever harmful, every day. 

And so Ocean was born.

I take this date as a time to think about the year ahead for Ocean. I am deeply aware, of course, that Ocean can affect the people that are referenced in it, as well as those who read it with more than a passing interest. Writing with great care is always at the forefront, but I have to admit that I have the ambition to go beyond just "doing no harm." I want so much to smooth some paths, to bring smiles (even though, as I have said time and again, I am, unfortunately, not funny!), to prompt good thoughts for those who start their day reading Ocean posts. And if that sounds puffed up and pontifical (who am I to want to make your day better?!), yes, I agree. Being positive and attempting to lay out a good, thoughtful framework for each day does smack of some conceit, but hey, isn't it a heck of a lot better than pounding away at a negative text?

And maybe there's some good that comes from reading someone who truly does believe that each day is singularly quirky and ridiculous and banal but beautiful nonetheless. Maybe. At the very least though, Ocean is a record of moving between stages in life. I began when I was fifty. I'm not fifty anymore! But here's an important caveat: observing, recording, taking note -- these are not the same as giving advice! I know too well the horror of a constant trickle of "words of wisdom," usually coming from those who have no idea what your life is like. What pain and what trauma and what insecurity you are dealing with. I will never presume that my days make sense for anyone but me. Your smile, if it comes, will come from finding something sweet or ridiculous in my story, nothing more than that. Your life is your own and I wish I knew more about it, because I love learning about what makes others tick, but I steer clear from suggesting that I have any wisdom to offer you on how to lead it, how to age, how to be a grandparent, or a partner to someone with whom you have nothing in common! 

 

II

And now to get on with the day. Which starts early. Ed gets a 5 a.m. call from Denmark (it's all about machines!) and we are off and running.

Good morning, farmette lands! Good morning wisps of sunshine (that stayed with us for all of maybe half an hour)!

Good morning, Unfriendly Snowflake! Thanks for joining us for breakfast! 

 

III

In the afternoon, I do a lot of reading. Progress on a very dumb novel, but one I need to finish for who knows what reason. A few chapters on a city I'll be visiting early this year. Two articles, roughly about ancestry, and here is where I will pause. Because it is related to a question that a daughter asked while we were all at the table enjoying my son-in-law's cooking of a "Very Estonian Christmas Dinner." She asked, not accusingly, but knowing well the answer -- and what Polish foods have you brought to the table for the holidays? Of course, the answer is "none" or you would have heard about it here, on Ocean.

But why? Polish cooking is rich with tradition and I have several Polish cookbooks to prove it. And my friends always talk about it. They show off photos of their own Easter cakes. They hunt down the best herring for Eve dinners. Each one, I'm sure, has a favorite recipe for Bigos (a sauerkraut and sausage stew that every Pole knows and loves), and, well, you all know about pierogi (Polish dumplings, for the uninitiated).

The thing is, I swear my daughters were born with American taste buds. They've subsequently expanded and at the moment one loves Scandinavian, the other loves Italian, but Polish? I just couldn't see it. And convincing their dad that stuffed cabbage rolls were actually delicious would have been a challenge. In family life, I often steered us toward minimal disagreement around the dinner table. (I'm not saying this was a good strategy on my part, but it is a fact.)

I suppose in part, I am a product of a mixed-up family myself.  No one at home cooked Polish foods. (Read about it in Like a Swallow if you want to know why.) My grandma did, but I never believed her foods would fare well on this side of the ocean. Central European bland. Not flashy. Wholesome, but low on the wow factor. (Though I, of course, loved it all. I was a kid, she was my kitchen hero.)

Is it too late? Or let me phrase it this way -- how much of my Polishness do I still want to bring to the table? To my own family? I have a rather erratic relationship to my country of birth, which perhaps is a function of my lifetime of comings and goings there and back. True, I would give a lot now for authentic baked goods that I once purchased at fantastic Polish bakeries -- poppy seed cake, Polish doughnuts, Polish cheesecake. None of these can be found here. But I'm afraid I am alone in my love for all that. Ed is wedded to his own strange baked items and probably would pass on picking poppy seeds out of his teeth all day long after eating something densely packed with moist dark seeds. Ask him about favorite childhood desserts and he'll tell you about rainbow cookies and Hostess stuff from the grocery store. Like their apple pockets or cupcakes. Do you see what I am up against??

Food culture, like freshly baked stuff, doesn't necessarily travel well. I remember after taking my younger daughter to Poland, she proclaimed that she really loved the Polish babeczki waniljowe. Tiny little bundt-like cakes with vanilla custard. On my next trip to Poland I bought a bunch to bring back for her. They crumbled in the suitcase. 

I'm thinking it's time for me to go back to Poland. Before I grow too old to want to run around bakeries, and pick out old coffee shops for long visits with friends. Or invite myself over to a home for a good piece of Polish cheesecake (I'm thinking of yours, Bee!). Maybe this year, maybe next. I'm thinking about it.

With love...

 

New Year's Day

And a happy New Year's Day to you! 

Yes, I slept through it all. The fireworks (were there any in our rural community?), the cheering, the TV rendition of time moving forward from one year to the next. A few minutes after midnight, my phone showed me kids, ages nearly 9, 5 and 2 jumping up and down exuberantly on a parental bed. Their joy was palpable! So I began my new year with a smile, then a burrow under the quilt and a return to sleep.

I have before me three days of downtime, which is good, because I need to shape up after the annoying virus knocked some of the oomph out of me in the last days of December. (Oh that cough! It's got to go!)

In this next decade of my life, I'm starting the new year with no resolutions. At 70, you're allowed to skip over that tradition. It's not that you can't improve, but resolving to do so only once a year seems like the wrong approach for those of us who haven't a ton of January firsts before them. An effort to improve is now part of the everyday. It feels better that way in any case. Incremental efforts. Small steps. Greater likelihood of success!

Nonetheless, I did like reading today about an energy challenge you might set for yourself today, this year, whenever. The author suggests that you concentrate on five science-backed ingredients for boosting your energy: rest, exercise, socializing, eating, and finding enjoyment in your daily tasks (the NYTimes). And I did take the fitness test suggested by the WashPost, also in today's paper, for those who haven't a clue as to their level of fitness. That newspaper wont let you link to their articles, but in case you're curious, you can test yourself simply by counting the number of unassisted standups from a chair you can do in 30 seconds (senior target: a dozen), by the number of seconds you can stand on one foot (senior target 90), and by the number of seconds you can hang (senior target 30 secs). And then, when you've patted yourself on the back for being so magnificently fit, the writers tell you that you could always stand to improve, and here are a few suggestions on how to do it!

Always the preaching out there, waiting to hit you in the gut.

Continuing in this vein of health and well being, I then read the article (back to the NYTimes for this one) titled: A Hopeful Reminder: You're Going to Die. The upshot there is that if we faced our own mortality squarely and on a regular basis, we'd lead better, fuller lives, understanding on a daily basis what counts, and taking heroic plunges, rather than safe steps, as we move from one year to the next. 

Yes, "heroes" does sound much better than merely mindless consumers of creature comforts in life, nonetheless, I had some issues with the general premise and how it plays out in life. Facing the terror of your own mortality is an entirely different ballgame at age 10, 30, 50 or 70. And if you have kids, it gets even more complicated, as your worries are for yourself and for them. Sure, in the cosmic scheme of things, age should not make a difference, as we are all merely specs on a "rock hurtling through the unfeeling infinity of dark matter,"  but tell that to the parent whose entire soul is enmeshed with the love she feels for her young ones. Death is more than just a random swat -- me today, you tomorrow. It's a bulldozing of all the heroic acts you do for your young ones. Thank you, but I'd prefer to postpone that until I'm past, well, maybe 70! Before that, terror is not your friend, nor your vehicle to a more heroic life. [And a note here: I write about kids being your foci, but of course, it could be something or someone else, beloved, adored, whose happiness is so totally dependent on you surviving the year.] 

These are my morning thoughts. The day is rather cold, rather gray, the promised sunshine never came through the thick cloud cover. The animals were fed...

And yes, Ed and I sat down to breakfast together. Panettone cake! I love it, Ed -- less so, but he's not a big breakfast eater so at least once a year, I choose this delicious Italian treat for our morning table and what better day for it than... right now!

Afternoon? Well, a long email from Poland makes me smile, and a longer Zoom call with my Warsaw BFF is beyond rich. True, my voice is still not strong and Ed has noted that my cough is not exactly helpful as he tries to concentrate on the details of his machine design project, but he says this lightly and with compassion! My kind of guy! The essence of this day is just beautiful. What more could you ask for!

123123

Only an American would appreciate the simple beauty of those numbers! (We post dates beginning with the month. Poor souls elsewhere see this day as 31.12.23. Big deal, right?) 

 

Ed and I have been lucky this year. Nothing tragic, no great calamity, no huge personal failures. True, Ed reminded me that I cycled through one surgery and more recently, in the space of two months -- two big time viruses, both of which had the power to kill the likes of me, but I retorted that in fact, neither killed me, nor hospitalized me, nor even wrecked my stamina, so let's not get hung up on the small stuff. And by the way, the reason both were in the end small is because I am fully vaccinated and both vaccines protected me from more serious outcomes that are so much a worry for people our age. So -- lucky. 

I'm weighing whether luck warrants cracking open a (half) bottle of champagne tonight, or whether in fact that kind of toast is better saved for New Year's Day, to celebrate hope. I mean, why toast a year that's over and done with? And what senior person is going to want to pop a cork at midnight anyway? Two things to consider there: who wants to stay up that late and is it really good for your sleep to sip stuff just before bedtime? 

Fifty years ago I would have attributed such deliberations to the VERY OLD. Oh! Perhaps that would include people my age! Gulp!

On the last day of the year, many of us like to reflect. Many, but not all. Looking back on a day -- I do that all the time! You could argue that Ocean is one ongoing look back. An answer to the pressing question of what just happened?? Looking back on a whole year, on the other hand, seems to invite judgment. Man oh man, that sucked! I should have seized the moment then! I wish I had tried this, done that, let go of the other! I prefer looking forward. It's not that I choose to forget the past: it lives within me every single day. But I do not catalogue events from the year or reflect on them on this day, only to be tossed aside thereafter. So, New Year's Eve is a sigh of relief, a grateful nod to having had so much luck in life, to be alive, to have felt the love of family and friends, and to give one big exhale before facing and bracing for the New Year.

In the meantime, we have a dusting of snow. A frustratingly small amount once again. True, I'm not up for skiing yet (that voice thing!), but I'd like to imagine that in a day or two I'll be in the forest with Ed, gliding along undisturbed snow. Not gonna happen. Not with this light stuff.

Breakfast? Still healthy. If I'm not moving a lot right now, I should at least eat well.

In the afternoon, I notice the quiet once again. No holiday music. No kids (during the day). No movies, shows, video clips.  Ed and I both like quiet, and yet I'm wondering if I should return to my jazzy vocalists that were my go-to music favorites from a few years back. Classical in the car, jazzy at home. Not today though. Nothing really seems right. New Year's Eve demands something uniquely special, even as there is no New Year's playlist that truly belongs to this day. Picking up on an NPR recommendation (we need to move beyond just Auld Lang Syne!), I listen to Abba's New Year's Eve song. Meh... 

I search for other possibilities. 

In the end, my favorite hasn't New Year's in the lyrics but maybe it's there in the spirit? It's a recording of Kermit, performing at Lincoln Center this fall, along with the "choir" that is really the audience. Here it is:

 

 

And so long as we're on the Muppets, here's a more targeted message from Kermit: 

And now it's time to get dinner ready. The young family is here for my traditional New Year's Eve seafood extravaganza. 

 

 

 

(My daughter brings the party hats and noise makers which, luckily, aren't hugely noisy!)

The three little ones are ready to party party all evening long! The parents? Perhaps less so, but the kids are hitting that age range where staying up is going to happen, whether the parents go along or not, so may as well make it special. 

 

 

 

Still, I shoo them out of the farmhouse way before the carriage turns to pumpkin. This is an example where being a grandparent has downsides (you get tired) and prerogatives (you dont have to stay up). I wave them off with hugs and hoots and happy cheers.

And once the house is in order, I sit down with Ed, for an oceanic celebration of the coming of the New Year. Meaning before our midnight, before even the east coast midnight, right when 2024 rolls around by the Atlantic Standard Time (so 10 p.m. our time), I take a sip of something fizzy and I wish him, and my near and farther afield family and friends and you too, Ocean readers -- a very, very happy New Year!

 

 

with so much love...

winding down

The goal for today? Keep it low key. Work on getting voice back, which requires doing nothing much except popping pills and ... hydrating! My herbal teas are being put to good use. Ed tells me to sleep during the day. Terrible idea! I want the sleepiness to creep in at night time. Nothing is more delicious than a feeling of drowsiness right around 10 or 11 p.m. 

I have two outings for the day. The first, predictably, is to feed the animals.

What, you dont think that qualifies as a biggie? Cut me some slack, I'm recovering!

Breakfast. Unfortunately, I've become spoiled. All those delicious croissants and sweet breads in the morning! My traditional oatmeal feels like a real let down! Still, one needs to stay the course and veer towards the healthy, so oatmeal it shall be. For today.

(I compensate by a return to our wonderfully stale but delicious Sacher Tort for lunch.)

I am totally embarrassed to admit to my preoccupation for the rest of the day, especially since it has been my late night preoccupation for a while now: I have been agonizing over my suitcase. Ed, who has always traveled with his same old duffle-backpack (think: 50 years old, zipper repaired many times), would shake his head in puzzlement/disapproval/amazement. If you have something that basically keeps your clothes together for travel, why look for improvements? Why indeed! It is a fact that I do travel a lot. And that I rarely, perhaps even never check my bag, at least on the outbound journey. But my fantasy carry-on suitcase has evolved over the years. I need it to be large, but within the required guidelines of the airlines I tend to use. (22 x 14 inches for Delta, 21.5 x 13.75 for Air France, 21.5 x 13.5 for KLM.) Each of these airlines will wink wink at an extra half an inch, but I do not want to be caught off guard and have someone insist at the gate that I tag it through to my final destination. In other words, I should stick with the smallest of the three.

Okay, easy peasy, right? Wrongo bongo! (My grandkids are very familiar with these grandma phrases, with the addition of yeppers peppers and nopers popers. Just ask them!) Most carry-ons are EITHER 21 inches to meet most international requirements, or 22 inches for those traveling domestically. Should I push the limits or relinquish a half an inch? And there's more: the matter of volume. You do not want to, no, rephrase that -- I do not want to pick a carry-on with low volume for whatever reason (handle is inside construction, etc.). And here comes the next requirement: it must be expandable because I tend to get stuff for the kids when I travel. I dont mind sending it through on the way back. Okay, fine. All that calls for much searching. But well you might ask, well might Ed ask -- dont I already have a decent suitcase that meets (wink wink) certain dimensions and expands and has adequate volume?

I do have a decent suitcase. Here's the caveat: I was younger when I bought it. Enough younger that I did not pay attention to weight. I did not pay attention to the absolute necessity of having a grab handle to get it down from the overhead (because at 5 ft 5 inches, I belong to the category of short people from the point of view of overhead bins). And most importantly -- and this prompted the search -- I had settled for just a two wheeler, because two wheelers give you a tiny bit more volume inside. 

Try navigating a two wheeler down an airplane (narrow!) aisle. Just try it. You can't! You have to wiggle and bump your way down and most often everyone around you is grumpy and in a hurry so you wind up picking up the damn thing and carrying it and believe me, at my age, this is sub-optimal. When I travel with my grandchild it is more than sub-optimal because I'm usually already assisting with her stuff. My hands are full. And so I want spinner wheels, to push the case forward on its side!

Okay, have I given you enough text on the subject of suitcases? I should say that I have pride in the look as well. I dont want just a black suitcase. I dont want a flashy one either. But I want it to look nice! Is this too much to ask? (Ed: yes it is.)

My travel expenses have been significant lately, so I have been postponing throwing money at a suitcase for a while now. But 2024 promises to be a year replete with travel and I cannot do the lift and carry thing anymore without feeling like perhaps this is where I should take greater care. So for weeks now I have been studying suitcases and since I have a trip around the corner, this weekend was my last chance to get one prior to it. I finally decided on one -- it's not perfect and at 21, it is half an inch smaller than I am allowed, which kills me! (Perhaps two more pairs of socks would have fit in had I found one at 21.5 inches that checked all the other boxes perfectly!) It's also not the superstar that I've been ogling but which costs way too much for my retirement budget. This small downgrade doesn't kill me, but still, my second fiddle is costing me enough. I wish it were also the most beautiful suitcase in the world. It isn't that, but (I hope) it's good enough. And it has the spinner wheels!

 

In the late afternoon, I go for my second outing, over to my daughter's house to give her moral support and to wrap tree ornaments as they take down their own Christmas tree. I can't talk of course, but I can smile at the kids and wrap ornaments in toilet paper (Snowdrop is immersed in writing a book, Sparrow is an enthusiastic ornament remover!), as we work through this final stage of Christmas in their home.

Evening. I listen to Ed talk about how lucky we are. For him, this is measured by the fact that we have food on the table and heat in the house.  I'll add (and he wont disagree) that we are indeed lucky, for all the love that fills our everyday, from all sides.

leftovers

Sometimes, it's not just the food that remains in your space, to be reheated and savored at another time, another day. Sometimes it's the memories, the dangling unfinished holiday details, the lost voice (that was my yesterday's surprise -- inflamed vocal chords!), the huge need for a catch up sleep, the treasured photos in your file, and yes -- the stale but delicious Sacher Torte. Bits and pieces of my holiday of family, still with me, lovely reminders filling my head on the day after it all ends.

I wake up, test my voice -- still missing! -- and slowly make my way to feed the animals. Leftover snow! That too.  It will melt soon enough, but for now it brings back those images of kid play outside. So wonderful to have lingered long enough for them to get that pleasure out of it. This morning, the chickens are out and about, looking for scraps of food that I often bring out for them after a big eating frenzy at the farmhouse. Sorry girls, not today! I'm keeping the leftovers for Ed and me.

Breakfast, with the last pieces of the nut stollen, and a sliver of honey cake.

Because it's a long holiday weekend and I dont want to get really sick in the thick of it, I go to my clinic to check out this latest nutty inflammation. I get a couple of meds out of the deal and a "stay hydrated!" verdict, which is just a tiny bit funny. This is my one outing for the day. I return to the farmhouse, take out my sheep blanket, spread out on the couch and fall asleep.

Lunch? Leftover Sacher Torte.

And the big project for the day? Take down the tree. For me, Christmas ends when the family disperses. The tree itself lasted a really long time and it probably had another week in it, but looking at it now seems so wrong (even as I understand that Christmas traditionalists would be appalled at my timeline). Down it comes.There's always a small amount of sadness that comes with the emptying of our living space in this way. We were all here yesterday, very much immersed in holiday play. And here I am now, vacuuming up the last fallen needles as Ed carries the tree out. That finality can hit you right in your emotional gut. And yet we all have a lingering closeness that firmed up even more out of those days together, with the kids, over foods -- and that stays. 

Dinner? Chili and chocolates. 

 

With so much love....

December 28th

Well, it's snowing. We expected it -- an insignificant blanket of very wet snow. You wouldn't take out your skis for it, but I'll hand it this much: it's very pretty.

At least for now, in the morning, when I head out to feed the animals.

Not one of our 12 animals (cats and chickens) likes to touch the stuff. Wet and cold on their clawed legs or pink paws. They just want to stay sheltered. This would be less problematic if 1. they all got along and 2. if the farmhouse stayed empty, or with just Ed and me. Every animal here is terrified of visitors and so after spending a luxurious morning on the warm farmhouse vents, they ran like crazy once the young families began to arrive.

I'm doing a farmhouse brunch today. By coincidence, all the menfolk are sequestered in their own bubbles for reasons of work, but everyone else is here. Three women and a brood of kids. And it is lively and lovely.

And there is a sacher torte (you know this cake, right? -- almonds, apricot jam, chocolate). This was my one surprise for the-day-after-Christmas dinner: the original sacher torte from Demel's in Vienna. I used to bake these fairly regularly, but this time I really wanted to try one that claims to be the real deal. Except it did not come on time. In fact, it was five days late. That's late enough for it to start drying out. Still, I figured it would be fine for brunch, with a cup of milky coffee. 

Other brunch foods? Croissants, held over in the freezer. Breads, also rebaked, honey cake from my last trip to Madame's honey shop. That's the doughy stuff. Bacon and Norwegian salmon for protein. And cheeses -- a Swiss one, a Wisconsin one, and the beloved Baby Bells for the littlest kids. Eggs, not farmette ones because the hens are not laying this winter. Or if they are, we have no idea where. A fruit dish that is huge, but which is emptied out twice as I restock it. And cheese sticks and the sacher torte. All easy stuff, but it does take a couple of hours to throw it all together. 

They're here!  No one is dressed for snow play and in any case, the wetness of the snow is very unappealing, but still, the temptation is there: just to try, for example, the sled. One quick second.

Inside, the five cousins have a really good dynamic by now. Sometimes the older kids band together, other times, the three girls group over a shared interest, and every once in a while all five join forces. 

 

 

 

These guys really love each other -- a mutual affection and acceptance that is handed down from these wonderful daughters of mine...

We eat.

They play some more. We take a "with grandma" picture.

And then it's time to take the young ones home for naps. One quick walk! -- plead the older three. Fine. All of you. Go take a walk!

(Wait up for the little one!)

(The magnificent five!)

In the later afternoon, we gather again, this time at my older daughter's home. There, the older kids find the requisite snowpants and finally, they are given unfettered time to romp outdoors. 

Only after they get thoroughly wet and romped out do they come inside.

(look who's up!)

(archery)

And dinner? Well, my son-in-law has some Estonian lineage and he has taken to cooking up an annual dinner for all of us which we call (with a large degree of enthusiasm) our Estonian Christmas. The dishes he prepares are all straight out of the Estonian kitchen. A pork roast, barley with mushrooms, scalloped potatoes, followed by a fantastic currant meringue cake. 

Our Christmas season began on Thanksgiving weekend with an outing to the Christmas tree farm, followed by the evening tree trimming. All of us, at my daughter's house. It ends tonight, also at my older girl's home, also with all of us there. In between -- all those weeks of planning, shopping, cooking, with a birthday stuck in the thick of it (Juniper's!), and a Nutcracker outing, and lots of music thrown in, because my playlist is so long and I do not ever tire of it. But of course, the joy is in these gatherings. The conversations. With the kids, most of the time off playing, in the background, though sometimes demanding our attention, because, well, some of them are still so young even though some of us are getting to be so .... less young! 

 

 

 

Together, on these beautiful days of December. 

(Back at the farmhouse, one last look at the tree...)

A thrilling set of days. Absolutely the best!

with so much love...

December 27th

Oh, these days, these days! They make up for the crummy ones that occasionally litter the timeline. Too perfect, too beautiful and really, so simple! Family walks, meals, outings, shopping for notebooks, more meals shared, all of us, happy, playful, together.

Not much writing for today. Just photos with a few explanatory notes. You'll appreciate that the best of days require the least of words. 

*     *     *

Up many hours before dawn. So is Ed. He offers to feed the animals and then he is off for some momentous stage of his machining project.

Breakfast, light. With the world's best red berries.

*     *     *

An all-family meet up at the Arboretum. It's just above freezing. Despite the early hour, or maybe because of it, the kids are energetic! What better place for that!

(Juniper, the youngest, has her work cut out for her...)

(timed release selfie!)

A stranger with a camera (and a huge lens) comes up to me and asks if the kids would like to see an owl. He's spotted one just a few branches up in a tree. If they can stay quiet and don't scare the big bird... 

They stay quiet and it is positively awesome. (It's a Barred Owl and thankfully it was not feeling territorial so our ears and caps are intact. Those owl eyes! So beautiful!)

*     *     *

Brunch at Hollander. (It describes itself thus: comfort-food fare served in a European-style cafe with a vintage-chic vibe..) I'd never been there. I thought it was perfect for us!

The eatery is at Hilldale (an outdoor shopping area) and since we are there, I gave the kids one last gift: $25 (max!) each to spend at Paper Source. Do you know this store? It's an expensive card and stationary shop, but they've added little gifty items and all kids love it and parents rightly see it as way overpriced. The older Madison two have ballet class right next to it and each week there's a lot of begging to go in and "just look." We never do, because we are older and wiser. If you care about your credit card limits, you'll stay away. But today, I wanted to see what they could accomplish with $25. 

After much angst, many calculations, changes of mind, comparisons, deliberations, they finally chose their loot and honestly, they did just fine!

(Sandpiper is hiding!)

*     *     *

The older kids went with their moms to the movies (dads stayed with the younger two). I considered going along, but honestly, I cant sit through a movie when I'm under-slept, so I went home to tidy up and take care of the cats. 

We meet up later for supper downtown, at Lucille's. This has been our favorite supper place with all the kids and parents for a while now. It's mainly a pizza restaurant and it is so... cheerful! Especially around the holidays.

 

*     *     *

Are we still in a period of "the holidays?" For me, as long as these guys are still here, we are on a holiday roll! 

With so much love....