The time between enjoying the sunrise and realizing it’s a work day; an upside down ‘w’ verbal response.


“Home” for the Holidays

When you pray that your children get home safely for the holiday

and everyone arrives at the house the afternoon before Thanksgiving

and then your kids go out for the night,

so you go back to the beginning and hope your babies get home safely for Thanksgiving.

#twenties #fifties

Photo credit: Instagram

First Man Standing

During our “50 first dates” my husband taught me to stop inserting myself into the life of other “Men, Women and children”. We were a young couple back then and I liked to people watch. I took note of other tables to figure out which “Grownups” were falling in love, pissed off at each other or celebrating a special occasion. Richie’s advice for me was to ‘eat at your own table’.

Over time, I admitted I was “Going Overboard” and stopped living in the world of “Funny People” that I allowed to “Reign over me”. While my new views aren’t “Bulletproof”, I focus on our own relationship and families when we go out to dinner now.

Too quickly our girls are young adults and I’ve also finally learned to “Just go with it”. They are past “Bedtime Stories” and “Anger Management” so I work on being present and attentive. I’ve learned we don’t get a “Do Over” in life, so when we are together, I am totally focused on my family.

“The Ridiculous” example of how to explain this better is to tell you about our breakfast at The Purple Finch Cafe in Manchester, New Hampshire last month.

The eatery is a quick drive from Tarah’s St. Anselm campus and Richie, or “Big Daddy”, for the sake of the story, loves their menu. The owners are also alumni of UNH, where Trisha went to school and now works. Trisha wasn’t with us but we took Tarah to a late Purple Finch breakfast after helping her to install some “Click” shelving from Bed, Bath and Beyond. The cafe has a clientele of “Mixed Nuts” from young families, to “Airheads” to probably even “Paul Blart” – or the local Manchester – “mall cop”.

The cafe is always full of patrons that happily spill out into the strip mall, before or after a meal, to take in the fresh air or interact with family and old friends. I enjoy that spirit of the cafe and don’t otherwise mind the crowds. The creative and delicious menu items are worth any short wait. This day was no exception.

“The Longest Yard” is waiting for a table, so Richie dropped me off at the door to check on the wait time. The hostess told me it would only be a few minutes, so I sent a wave back to the Jeep. I watched Tarah and her Dad cross the parking lot from the cafe front window as I made Richie a cup of coffee in the waiting area. I was “The Benchwarmer” so I sat down on one large enough for all of us. When Richie and Tarah entered the cafe, they sat together in the two-person swing across from me instead.

Rather than feel left out, I focused on taking their picture. As a mom, it was great to see them engaged in conversation at one of their favorite venues. There was laughter and clapping at the tables but I’ve learned not to pay attention. I figured whatever birthday party or mini reunion was occurring was not my business. My participation would not make it any better for them. My world was in front of me, under the lens. I took a photo of my husband and baby girl, edited it and then took a few others.

Once the noise died down, my name was called and we were brought to our table in the center of the cafe. The waitress arrived and we all ordered without even referencing a menu. Last but not least, Richie ordered the steak bomblet.

The waitress excitedly reacted with a bit of an accent, “That’s what Adam just ate too!”

As she walked away, I asked what exactly she said?

“What do you think she said, Mom?”

I repeated what I thought I heard ending with an “Adam who though?”

Richie added his two cents after that, “Omigod! You don’t even know what just happened?”

“What?” I was just watching you and Tarah on the swing.”

“Didn’t you hear the applause? Mom, Adam Sandler was here.”

“Huh?! You’ve got to be kidding me?! I love him.”

“We know. Didn’t you take his picture? He even waved at you!”

“NO SA! I was taking a picture of you and Dad by the door.”

My husband was disgusted with my powers of observation and humored that I missed out on everyone’s favorite local.

I am sure I would have noticed if he was “The Water Boy” or if he’d stayed a little longer to order “The Cobbler”. Perhaps not. It was my own personal SNL – Sunday Noon Loss. Next time, I’ll make sure Adam isn’t there celebrating Chanukah.

Photo credit: Purple Finch Cafe website – evidently, around the time I was making a cup of coffee (in front of the other window)

Lick it up

Even though it’s a comfort food from when I was a child, I sometimes forget how much I like pot roast. It is a Yankee culinary delight. Richie basted this one in our crockpot last Monday. The meat cooked so slowly, it quickly melted in my mouth. The carrots, Irish potatoes and onions swam alongside in the delicious gravy on my plate. Yankee me couldn’t get enough, even after several pot roast dinners last week. I am comforted as the cold weather approaches; warmed by the wood stove, a crock pot and my man.

I am a writer who sells vintage books and toys. I write about the whimsy of life, family, thrifting, everything and nothing and whispers of the Holy Spirit.

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