Playing Favorites :: Trips and Tips

Burger and fries at Northwest Grill in Travelers Rest

This past weekend, TG and I traveled to Greenville, South Carolina -- the Upstate -- for a long-overdue proper visit with Henry, my mother's beloved husband of thirty-seven years.

We sortied early in the afternoon on Friday, which as you know was Mom's 84th birthday. The date was more or less a coincidence but it worked out so beautifully.

It takes not quite two hours to travel from our door to Henry's, and he was waiting for us. We'd decided to pick him up before going shopping for the groceries I'd need to make that night's dinner.

Back home from the store, I planned for us to eat at about six. My sister, Kay, who lives five minutes away, had offered to come and lend a hand with the cooking.

The key to this simple salad is Kay's homemade vinaigrette

She showed up as promised, and began making the salad while I prepped chicken breasts for baking and potatoes for mashing.

(My brother-in-law, Pierre-Philippe, who would join us later for dinner, discovered during Mom's illness that he loves my mashed potatoes or, as the French say, pommes puree. So whenever he's going to be at the table, I make sure to serve them.)

When I was a bride and an inexperienced cook, an older lady who was a friend of our family taught me exactly how to make mashed potatoes. Her method was simple but effective, and for years I was true to it.

The way I prepare this essential dish has evolved twice over time: Once, when I learned about a recipe called Party Potatoes that involved mashing the spuds with sour cream (in addition to milk and butter); and a second time, when we ate at a restaurant in Knoxville that offered a menu item dubbed Dirty Mashed Potatoes, so-called because it omitted peeling the potatoes.

Dirty Mashed Party Potatoes

My current method is a hybrid of those two recipes. I wash and chunk either Idaho Russets or Yukon Gold potatoes. I then boil them until the chunks are soft. What I don't do is peel them.

Meanwhile I slice up a whole stick of butter in a large Pyrex measuring cup, and add a generous splash of milk.

I heat that in the microwave until the butter is mostly melted.

After pouring the soft potatoes into a colander, I pour the hot milk and butter into the bottom of the cooking pan.

I pour the potatoes back in on top of that, season them liberally with salt and pepper, and mash them with a masher.

Sister and I collaborated on the Green Beans Almondine

Then I add a generous amount of sour cream (if you think you've put too much, it's probably just about right) and mix them a final time with an electric mixer.

Mix mix mix, then taste and make sure there's enough salt and that the potatoes are the creamy texture that you want.

That's it. If you do it differently, please tell me your favorite way to make mashed potatoes.

For our salad that night, at my request Kay cut up Roma tomatoes, cucumbers, Vidalia onion, and basil from her garden. She whipped up a vinaigrette from olive oil, Colavita Prosecco Wine Vinegar, and fresh garlic, and seasoned everything with salt and pepper.

Cornbread from Jiffy Mix is a family tradition

Earlier, I had browned sliced almonds in butter. Kay drizzled olive oil into Mom's black iron skillet and cooked frozen cut green beans on low heat until they were the perfect doneness. She then added the almonds. Voilà! Green Beans Almondine.

I'd already baked the cornbread from Jiffy Mix and it was keeping warm atop the stove. 

Let me tell you what I did with the chicken. I basically followed this recipe except I improvised with the rub.

I used brown sugar, dry minced onion, dry mustard, paprika, red pepper, black pepper, and kosher salt.

Juicy Baked Chicken with brown sugar rub and Honeyracha Sauce

But I followed the recipe when it came to melting the butter (I stopped short of browning it but I won't make that mistake again), coating the chicken breasts in the butter and then rubbing them with the rub, and placing them back into my extra-large black iron skillet that I'd brought from home, and putting them in the oven preheated to 425.

When the chicken had reached 165 degrees on the inside, I took them out and brushed them with Heinz Honeyracha Sauce, then popped them back into the oven for about ten minutes.

You've got to try it. That chicken was tender and flavorful, and so was everything that went with it.

When Henry, TG, Kay, Pierre-Philippe, and I had finished our dinner, all five plates were clean. Not a morsel remained on them.

On Saturday we visited Mom's grave

For dessert, we had Edwards Key Lime Pie and Pepperidge Farm Chocolate Fudge Layer Cake.

How Mom would have loved that feast, and the fellowship and laughter that went along with it.

And I will never forget cooking with my sister in our mother's kitchen, chatting and giggling as we did all the things. We have seldom if ever had the opportunity to do that.

I didn't get a picture of us but in my own defense, at least I remembered to take some photos so that I could show you the food.

The next day, we had a slow morning before leaving at lunchtime to visit Mom's grave.

Her death date plate has been installed at great cost

Ever since the day after Mom went to heaven, when Henry and I were taking care of business and part of that was to visit the cemetery itself where we met the owner at his pickup truck and and Henry signed some papers using the tailgate as a table, we have stopped for lunch at the Northwest Grill in Travelers Rest, South Carolina.

If you are ever anywhere near Travelers Rest and are hungry and have the time, you should follow our example.

This is a hole-in-the-wall burger joint, presided over by one John Williams, aka the Burgerologist, an imposing black man who exudes friendly hospitality.

He is also deputized and as such, he wears a badge and openly carries.

Northwest Grill is a cozy place with good food and friendly service and homemade desserts

Mr. Williams does that while grilling the hefty hamburgers and making a variety of other scrumptious southern dishes.

The burgers are incredible. Perhaps the best burger the pirate has ever eaten ...at least among the top three. I have to say that because I once had an excellent, unforgettable burger at Jimmy Mac's in Bryson City, North Carolina (if you ever go there, have the Dixie Burger).

The second time I ate at Northwest Grill was last December, with TG and Henry, again when we visited Mom.

TG went back once more with Henry when he was in Greenville this past winter.

The front door is a scant 150 yards from Mom's grave

Last Saturday was my third time to have a burger there. I never change my order except on this occasion, for dessert TG and I shared a dish of blackberry cobbler.

Every last bite of everything was outstanding. Simply fabulous, and so filling that none of us needed another meal for the rest of that day.

After our lunch, we went across the street to Coleman Memorial Cemetery.

Mom's tiny death date plate has been added to the double-header plaque. The scrap of metal is less than two inches wide and cost one hundred fifty dollars. It's a ripoff! Henry opined. I agree.

Just yesterday at NW Grill, the Burgerologist welcomed SC Lt. Governor Pamela Evette ... photo from Facebook

We know some others resting not far from Mom's grave, so we paid our respects to them too.

It's a lovely place and so peaceful, with a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Back home, Henry took a nap. Later, we traipsed over to Kay and Pierre-Philippe's house for a laid-back visit with them. Their daughter, Gena -- she and her two daughters, Maisie and Ella, were guests at my house for this party last winter -- who lives across the street from her parents, came over with her new baby, Caroline.

I am sorry that I did not get a picture of Baby Caroline. I was too busy looking at her and I did not even hold her because I was slightly under the weather with the tiniest of sore throats.

Home of the Burgerologist, who is a patriotic American

On Sunday morning we went to church with Henry and saw many of Mom's friends, who still miss her. Two of those friends had contacted me while I was getting ready for church, to invite us to their house for lunch.

When Mom began losing energy, or "dragging" as she described it, last summer, she made a visit to her physician and friend of nearly forty years, Dr. K.

It was Dr. K who showed up on Mom's doorstep a few days later, to deliver the sad news of her cancer diagnosis.

He told Mom that he and his wife loved her too much to give her the news over the phone.

Henry proclaimed the price a ripoff

In the course of Mom's illness, I became friends with Mrs. K and one of her daughters, who is married and lives nearby.

Last December when we visited Greenville, Mrs. K (J) and her daughter C came over one morning for coffee and second breakfast, and we had such a good time that J made me promise to always let her know when we were coming into town.

So it was that after going back to Henry's to change out of our church clothes and into more comfortable outfits, we drove a short distance to where Dr. K and J live, high up on Paris Mountain.

Their home, which they built over thirty years ago as a place to rear their seven children (all grown and married now, with children of their own), is like a secluded retreat.

I agree ... what a racket

We sat at one of several tables on their large wraparound porch and were serenaded with birdsong while enjoying chicken and rice casserole with cranberry sauce, baby carrots, green beans, pineapple chunks, and homemade bread. To drink we had sweet tea garnished with lime slices.

During the meal, Dr. and Mrs. K face-timed their son, whose wife was due at any moment with their first child (the baby was born late yesterday afternoon). The happy couple, who live in Alabama, were at a restaurant with the expectant mother's mother, who lives in Maryland but was in town for the birth.

In one of those coincidences that it's difficult to get your head around, the expectant mother's mother has been one of my best friends since 1978. We hung out together as young mothers throughout the '80s, and as couples with our husbands, we had many happy outings. Although I have not seen Sara in thirty years, we are frequently in touch.

I was aware from Christmas cards that Sara's youngest daughter was married two Junes ago, but I only learned after Mom's passing that she had married the youngest son of my mother's doctor.

TG squeezed lovely fresh lime into his ice cold sweet tea

The couple happened to meet at church, in a completely different state from where either of them grew up, or anywhere near where their parents live.

Dr. and Mrs. K's son is in the Coast Guard. His now-wife was working in the same city and attending the same church. So, Dr. and Mrs. K now share a grandchild with Sara, my bestie since 1978.

And I was able to see my friend's face live on Dr. K's iPad, and that was an unexpected treat. I love her dearly.

For dessert, Dr. K made us icy frappuccinos with lots of whipped cream on top. We all had two of those except for TG, who does not drink coffee and opted for a dish of chocolate ice cream.

Mrs. Dr. K was a boss whipping up this tasty meal on short notice

After more than two hours of wonderful conversation, and J giving me a tour of their gorgeous house, we reluctantly pulled ourselves away.

Back at home and having packed up, TG and I hugged Henry at five o'clock and headed for our own secluded retreat.

Two of Henry's daughters are considering moving to Greenville, to be near him. It's huge because one of them lives in Kansas and the other in Indiana. This would be a great encouragement to him and we hope it works out.

We love Henry. He is a treasure in many ways. He will turn 89 in August and we realize that the years are likely to be few that we all have to be together.

TG enjoyed the meal and the visit

TG and I arrived home at about seven o'clock to an ecstatic Rizzo and to Sweetness meowing loudly for her evening wet food (Audrey had taken care of them while we were gone).

(Dagny is now begging for a sleepover with Rizzo, because while he was at their house, he slept on her bed. To her, that is the ultimate pet experience. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Rizzo will sleep anywhere.)

What I have just described to you is pretty much the ideal weekend trip for me.

Henry always gives up his large master bedroom with adjoining spacious bath, for TG and me. He sleeps in a guest room and never complains, wanting us to be comfortable.

He turns the A/C down to 70 just for me. Cool and comfy? That's how I roll.

Keep the sweet tea flowing

We had so many good visits with folks we love. We had lots of simple but fresh and delicious food. We celebrated the Lord's Day by going to church and saw more friends there.

And we arrived safely home.

Don't you love good trips, and tips for where to get a good burger? I do. 

Today they're my favorite.

Blessings continue to abound, far exceeding what we deserve.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

My angel mother

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Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom

Patricia Ann Sandifer Dykstra

June 25, 1937 - October 21, 2020

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Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.

Psalm 116:15

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Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend

Dagny does the seven dance

In four years she'll be eleven

OK so today we are going to skip over our customary Playing Favorites post so that I can tell you about Dagny's birthday party.

I meant to do this post last Thursday but that worthy goal was OBE*. No; not Order of the British Empire. No; not an Out of Body Experience. See asterisk below.

Melly tested positive for being stubborn

At any rate, my planned posting was preempted by pirate preoccupations, as it were.

But it's a new week. So let's get started.

The party was held here at Casa Weber on Saturday, June 12, two days before Dagny's actual birthday, which coincided with Flag Day as it does every year.

Those leftover Fourth of July napkins came in handy

Hence our patriotic theme this year, which the birthday girl herself requested.

And then there was the seven cake.

This is an almost-tradition in our family.

There was a supersized seven balloon

Meaning, if you're turning seven you don't automatically get a seven cake.

All the planets have to align, I guess.

The seven cake thing originated with TG, who turned seven in 1959 and was presented with a seven cake that his mother had made.

Seven cake with strawberries

He talks about it to this day.

When our Audrey turned seven, my mother-in-law made her a seven cake.

When our Melanie turned seven, I made her a seven cake. 

We have seven cakes in common

In the 2012 post in which I told you about that, I mentioned that Melly was eligible to do the seven dance.

That was a reference to the book An Ocean In Iowa, written by Peter Hedges, who also wrote What's Eating Gilbert Grape, which in 1993 was made into a movie starring Johnny Depp in the titular role.

(In the book, Scotty Ocean, who lives in Iowa, turns seven and reacts by doing the seven dance.)

Seven and all set for the wedding rehearsal ... photo courtesy Audrey Weber

And after I posted that, Peter Hedges himself commented on my post.

That was a moment. Not gonna lie.

Still in the single digits

Anyway, ahead of Dagny's seventh birthday, and having decided to create a seven cake, Audrey acquired a special cake pan that comes with dividers and instructions on how to make a cake in the shape of any number or letter.

The cake turned out to be spectacular in every way. Audrey made buttercream frosting in white and iced only the top of the seven.

Mama came through for me in a big way

She then decorated the top part of the seven with strawberries and blueberries.

We put heaps more fresh strawberries in the space left on the serving plate beside the seven.

There was fruit salad

In addition, Audrey had a frosted sheet cake standing by in case there wasn't enough seven cake for everyone.

All bases were covered. We ate strawberries with our cake and put whipped cream on top of that.

Cousin Allissa is a big favorite

Yes we are hedonists but we are all okay with it. Come on in! the water's fine.

Before seven cake, we enjoyed Hungry Howie's pizza and Mari's Hot Taco Dip (minus the black olives) with Frito's Scoops. Also Audrey had made a mouth-watering fruit salad.

You'd better try Hot Taco Dip with Scoops pretty soon

The children went in swimming before we served lunch in the mid-afternoon.

At the conclusion of the first part of our feast, we proceeded straight to the birthday party part of the day, because our Stephanie had come from North Carolina with Melanie and Allissa, and she needed to get on the road for home.

The pizza from Hungry Howie's works every time

I made coffee and Audrey prepared to serve the seven cake.

She lit candles and we sang to our birthday girl.

Obsessed with Hot Taco Dip

Once we'd finished our delightful treat, Dagny opened her presents.

She received a new Bible from Aunt Erica and a stuffed corgi from her mother. 

Aunt Stephanie found her a corgi pocket shirt at Goodwill

(Dagny and her mother are both corgi enthusiasts but the time is not yet right for them to get one. Instead, on the day after the party, they got a cat. I know; right? Quite a leap from corgi to cat).

(At any rate it's a female tuxedo cat and it's their first pet ever -- unless you count the ill-fated betta fish Dagny got from Andrew and Brittany for her fourth birthday -- and they asked me to help name her. I gave them several suggestions and they went with Wednesday.)

Corgi Americana

(Soon I'll do a Wednesday post but it could be on any day of the week, so keep a weather eye.)

We gave her some clothes and an educational game. On her actual birthday, TG and Dagny went to the store together to get her a new scooter.

We saw that patriotic theme all the way through

The day was rounded out by my taking iPhone portraits of Dagny with her mother, with Papaw, with her Aunt Stephanie, and with Allissa.

I was too tired to be photographed with anyone.

Her new Bible has her name stamped on the front

Melanie would not consent to be photographed with anyone either -- unless you count my caged bird skeleton (I call him Cassius Crow).

We made the best of it.

There's always a pot of coffee

By late afternoon, everyone had gone home and I had a chance to rest.

Then, I had a week that was at least seventy-five percent busier than my normal week.

On Wednesday, TG and I celebrated our forty-second wedding anniversary. After prayer meeting, we went to Monterrey for fajitas. At least that's what I had.

Now she has a stuffed corgi AND a new cat

On Thursday, our church hosted a lovely and generous baby shower for Erica.

On Friday, we were invited to Cherica's house for dinner with some friends of theirs.

The weekend was eventful as well. For one thing, Dagny's first-grade teacher got married on Saturday and Dag was in the wedding.

I think that's a lip gloss ... photo courtesy Audrey Weber

Then there was our family Father's Day celebration, which took place on Sunday and involved zero preparation by me. Can I get an Amen?

It was low key but no less uplifting.

It involved being together, going out for Sunday lunch, and being seated at a long table in a big window while torrential rain fell outside.

Forty-two years ... and for most of those, he's been a father

In other words, perfect. Also there were just-baked biscuits with jelly, and the sweet tea flowed.

I could go on but I think that if I do, it will soon be another post altogether.

Here's hoping that your Father's Day observances were happy, and as memorable as ours. Also I hope that you will tell me about them, either in the comments or on your own blog.

Meanwhile, know that I love you.

And that is all for now.

*Overcome By Events

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Playing Favorites :: Shorpy

Greg Duncan (L) and TG at The Citadel, circa 1972

Many years ago, when I was a neophyte blogger, I became curious about what were considered the most successful and essential web sites out there.

It was mere seconds before I found an article listing and detailing such web sites.

I carefully perused the list, and then the sites themselves, and selected the only one that I knew would appeal to me for as long as there is an internet to browse and this web site is part of it.

And that web site is Shorpy. Self-described as The American Historical Photo Archive.

I have been a member for nearly eleven years, and I look at the site almost daily. I contribute with what I hope are pithy comments whenever I am able.

I also contribute two dollars per month to make my Shorpy experience ad-free. This is a relatively recent development; for many years Shorpy was already ad-free.

But times change, and there are expenses, and it's a small amount considering what you get, and it is so worth it to log in and have the ads disappear.

Shorpy is more than an online archive of pictures from the Library of Congress and other sources such as photos discovered in attics and antique stores and long-dead photographers' storage boxes, and countless family troves.

It is an invaluable deep well of the history of American life, captured on film. 

If you like interiors, exteriors, history, photography (especially black and white), photographers, nostalgia, families, rural scenes, city lights, suburban life, small-town life, fashion, automobiles, airplanes, architecture, vintage signage, classic advertising, specific eras such as the turn of the century, mid-century, the war years, the depression years, and/or candid and posed shots exposing (haaha) both the remarkable and unremarkable about common folk, with what is noble and what is ridiculous -- and everything in between -- about them on full display, you will enjoy Shorpy.

The addictive and timeless site is named after a young man named Shorpy Higginbotham, "a 'greaser' on the tipple at Bessie Mine, of the Sloss-Sheffield Steel and Iron Co. in Alabama" circa early 1900s.

The site's owner, Dave, is erudite and exacting -- some might say a touch irascible and a trifle intractable -- but not stuffy. He does not suffer fools gladly, but in my opinion, most of the time, that is a plus.

Dave and those who help him with the administration of Shorpy are just as sharp and as dedicated and as important. Their standards are as high as the subject matter warrants, which is fine by me.

In my opinion, the value of the work they do cannot be underestimated.

The takeaway for me, again and again, is that the current consensus regarding what a horrible place the United States of America is and has always been -- so racist, so hateful, so arrogant, so selfish -- is not borne out by the tens of thousands of photos on this site.

All countries are flawed because all people are flawed. Life can be, and often is, very difficult ... for everyone.

Past is prologue.

I'm aware that there are many Instagram accounts (I follow a number of them), and perhaps countless blogs, that do essentially the same thing: share old pictures and historical information.

But no one does it like Shorpy. No one.

Shorpyites -- those who avidly follow the site's near-daily offerings, often posting funny, smart and informative takes on the photos -- tend to be loyal in the best kind of way.

With a few exceptions (there's always that one), I love reading my fellow Shorpyites' comments.

For example, every year during the Christmas season, we all gather around, not a Christmas tree, but this photo of an office party that took place during the festive season of 1925.

This picture gets a similar treatment that is no less anticipated and enjoyed.

As evidenced by the hundreds of comments these photos have garnered over the years, we have yet to tire of studying and remarking upon them every Christmas, as though it were the first time we'd seen them.

The best part of Shorpy pictures is that you can click to enlarge them and painstakingly study each quadrant (if you so desire) of each photo, looking for details that don't jump out at first glance.

The site is also infinitely searchable, by subject or name or place or era or whatever, and meticulously hyperlinked so that one thing can happily lead to another.

It's the very best kind of edutainment. I told TG the other day that I'd clicked into Shorpy and viewed a photo, which led to my reading online about certain people relevant to the photo, for nearly two hours.

You learn a great deal but it's so fascinating, you hardly realize that you are studying.

Shorpy is intensely American. It faithfully chronicles the America that was, and that many of us still remember, and that is now gone (in more ways than one).

The pictures that are posted -- sometimes a few a day, sometimes a few a week -- are as random as they are riveting. They depict snapshots of American life throughout much of the twentieth century and sometimes even of late nineteenth-century subjects.

If the camera does not lie -- and it is fortunate for all of us that so many photos were taken before there was a thing called Photoshop -- then this is as honest an assessment of American life that you will find anywhere.

Members are allowed to contribute and share photos via the Member Blog and Member Gallery. Their memories are priceless.

I did that once! You can see the photo at the top of this post and read what I wrote about it here.

No digital photos are allowed on Shorpy. All images must have been captured on film or plate or whatever medium there was prior to digital photography.

Many images are also for sale as prints.

If you are so inclined, check out Shorpy. If you think you'd like to contribute a comment at some point, I strongly urge you to read the stated protocols relevant to such activity.

In this case, they're more than just guidelines.

Keep to the Code. And bring your A game.

Above all, enjoy! There is so much to learn, so much to wonder at, and so much that will inspire your awe and gratitude.

Shorpy is hands-down and without question my favorite web site of all time.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday :: Happy Flag Day

It was pointedly patriotic and purposely poignant

Wherever they go, whatever they do, they're gonna go through it together

So, wow. 

After three (make that four if you count preparation day) days of one get-together and party after another, I needed three (make that four, if you count last Thursday, which I sort of did because I didn't even accomplish the completion of this blog post), days to recover.

It resembled jet lag. Or at least, what I have heard and what I understand jet lag to be like.

I'd swung by Home Goods for some new patriotic decor

As in, you need a recovery day for every two time zones you cross during your flight of travel.

I think I crossed nine time zones over the Memorial Day weekend.

Then it was Friday and I reasoned that no one wants a long post stuffed with pictures, on a Friday.

Home of the free because of the brave

Am I right?

So I procrastinated still more. I wasn't motivated to do it anyway. I think it was too much activity combined with too many emotions.

I refer to our family's long Memorial Day weekend, which coincided with a visit from Andrew and Brittany, who are even now wending their way westward to Enid, Oklahoma and Vance Air Force Base, where they will live for the next year while Andrew completes phase two of pilot training.

Red, white, and blue for our heroes ... happy birthday for our Erica

It was also our Erica's birthday. Her last birthday before meeting her little baby and forever having her heart walking around outside her body in the form of her child.

Everyone was here to celebrate and to remember and to say, so long for now.

Andrew and Brittany and Ember were the first to arrive, on Saturday afternoon.

It was the Boo's birthday weekend too

I had spent Friday making homemade meatballs and semi-homemade spaghetti sauce, and doing various other things in the house to prepare for company.

Our Stephanie and her family traditionally get in late on Memorial Day Eve, and spend one night with us.

This year they would be getting in late on Sunday night as usual, but Stephanie and the girls would spend two nights with us.

Nor shall their story be forgot

Joel and little Andrew left just before noon on Monday to meet a fellow pastor and his two sons in the Upstate, and drive together to the Memorial Day Braves game in Atlanta.

As a consequence of our guest room being occupied for most of the weekend, Andrew and Brittany and Ember were billeted at Cherica's house, where they are always made welcome and comfortable.

Therefore we planned our Saturday evening kickoff get-together with them, at Cherica's.

Son-in-law Joel and his mini-me, Little Andrew, left just before noon on Monday, bound for Atlanta

Chad has built a commodious and inviting new deck on the back of his and Erica's house, and we were keen to sit on it for several hours after supper, visiting.

So it was that early on Saturday afternoon, Audrey, Dagny, Erica and I met at a nail salon on Erica's side of town, to get pedicures. It was the birthday girl's idea.

Dagny got both a pedicure and a manicure.

We lounged on Cherica's new deck for hours

That bit of self-care accomplished, we repaired to Erica's house to await the arrival of TG and Andrew and Brittany and Ember.

(They had swung by our house on the way and picked up Papaw, so we wouldn't have too many cars out at Erica's.)

At about six, we sat down to salad, spaghetti with homemade meatballs, and spicy toast.

She looks low-key sad but trust me, she was having a great time

It was better than it had a right to be. I wish you could have tasted it. I also wish I'd taken a few pictures of it, but I guess i was too hungry.

Then, as anticipated, we got situated in comfortable chairs on the deck, to while away the almost-summer evening just chatting and watching the doggos and the baby play.

(I had brought Rizzo with me. At Cherica's there is Jonah, Chad's beloved lab mix, and little Sibi.)

Chad cradles Sibi, who wants to be everywhere at once

Andrew and Brittany left at about nine for an impromptu date and a small respite from baby duty. Aunt Audrey was all too happy to take charge of Ember's bath and putting her to bed.

Still later, Chad built a fire and we roasted marshmallows.

We were home by ten thirty.

I have a new tiny letterboard

On Sunday morning we all convened at church. Afterwards everyone went home to change into comfy clothes, after which we met at Cracker Barrel for Sunday lunch.

We all trooped back to our house after the meal. Baby Ember went down for a nap while everyone else lolled by the pool. It was a pleasant day, not hot at all. In fact, the pool is still cool in temperature.

I don't swim until the water temperature is eighty degrees but others who don't mind it being a trifle chilly, sat on the edge with their feet in. A few got all the way in.

The donut floatie saw some action

It wasn't long before I had to go inside and start preparing dishes for the next day.

I made pretzel salad, seven layer salad, and baked beans.

At some point Andrew ordered pizza and requested that I make a big batch of popcorn.

Ember, wearing water wings and purple ruffles, marched around the pool ... I was right beside her

Late that evening, after everyone had gone home, Stephanie and Joel and Melanie and Allissa and little Andrew arrived.

I think we were in bed by twelve thirty. I certainly hope we were.

On Monday morning, after coffee and breakfast with Stephanie and the children, I got ready and started putting the finishing touches on everything we needed for our big afternoon meal.

We keep the home fires burning

The kids bought TG an impressive gas grill for his Father's Day gift, and it was already in place so that we could use it for the hamburgers and hot dogs.

(He had been cooking on a Weber kettle charcoal grill they'd given him years ago, but he needed an upgrade. It's ironic that they couldn't afford a Weber gas grill but he's happy with his Char-Broil.)

Mid morning, Henry arrived from Greenville. It's still strange to greet him at his car door and for him to be alone, without Mom in the passenger seat.

We heart our beautiful country and her heroes

It was just about a year ago -- Dagny's sixth birthday -- when she came to my house for the last time.

(If I'd known that she'd never be with us here again, I would have taken a picture of her. But I was distracted. There is a brief video of Dagny being surprised with her Barbie Dream House, and Mom can be seen momentarily, and heard laughing and talking.)

Get the pictures. Get the pictures. Get the pictures.

They're all there except me ... I was behind the camera

So, guess what? In addition to lots of food for our Memorial Day feast, I had cooked up a plan to get a picture of everyone before Joel and little Andrew left for Atlanta.

I'd mounted my big Nikon onto my tripod and located my remote control for same, even feeding it a fresh new coin battery.

I'd set up the shot with Allissa's help, and I was ready to go.

Ultimately I failed but you can piece it together

I even had flags for everyone to wave.

However.

One, it was easier said than done to get everyone arranged on the steps so that no one's face was hidden -- even with the little kids on the top step nearest me and the tall men way down on the sidewalk beyond the bottom step.

Paterfamilias

But we kept working at it and I, sensing that everyone was becoming impatient with me (I tend to overthink everything and it gets worse by the moment), stopped giving orders and went down a step or two, and started shooting.

Ember was antsy so Andrew suggested that I keep my thumb on the remote's button, and she was momentarily distracted by the assist light that flashed on the front of the camera many times in succession.

Then I said okay that's good, y'all can go, there's bound to be a good one in there, and everyone relaxed and wandered out into the yard.

Where are we and what are we doing

I took my camera from the tripod and stashed the tripod back inside, and took a peek at the pictures on the viewfinder.

And I realized that in every single picture with me in it, my head was cut off right around my nose.

I was too tall for where I was standing, I guess. I should have thought that through a little better.

There were fifteen of us

So I went back out and TG could see by my face that I was unhappy and I told them what had happened, but by then Joel was anxious to get on the road so as not to miss anything when they got to the ball park.

After they'd left, I sent Dagny into the house for my phone and went back up onto the steps and took a few selfies with random family members who were still hanging around behind me.

Oh well. I have a perfectly good apple-green bench sitting beneath the white oak, and even a cute background on the brick wall there, what with my big black metal filigree circles, that are by the way freshly repainted.

I could have posed everyone here and it would have been much easier ... but no

But it somehow did not occur to me to pose everyone there so that within seconds, we could have had a number of good picures that I could have been in, not missing half my head.

I'm scatterbrained; that is the bare truth of the matter.

I don't suppose life as we know it will come to an end due to all of that, so I guess we'll move on.

At any rate, it's in the books

At that juncture we moved the party to the back of the house again.

I made more popcorn as it was still a few hours until our festive meal. A bunch of people got into the pool.

I'd had the idea, the week before, to make lemonade ice cubes by filling ice trays with Minute Maid lemonade from two-liter bottles.

They have a bright future

I put those into the beverage dispenser I'd bought for Erica's shower (we fixed it so that it does not leak any more; the spigot part just had to be tightened).

Over the top of the lemonade ice cubes I poured Arizona original sweet tea. I called it sweet tea punch and it was a big hit.

Sort of like a slowly developing Arnold Palmer in your glass.

That sounds as good as you look

Eventually TG threw the burgers and dogs onto his new grill and I got everything set up inside, for the meal.

Before praying and eating, we all gathered in the TV room and watched this video.

I don't know about anyone else, but I cried. Then TG said grace and thanks over our splendid repast, and we ate.

Give us a kiss

Lunch was delicious. 

Everyone was too full for birthday cake so the party went outdoors once more.

Henry left for home at about four o'clock, unwilling to wait for the cake. He likes to be in the house for the evening no later than six. Mom was the same way.

Dagny and Allissa posed with Great-Grandpa just before he left

Eventually we did convene at the table again. I made a big pot of coffee. Chad had picked out Erica's birthday cake and it was pretty spectacular.

There was raspberry filling between the layers. Her favorite.

Chad had bought his wife a truly lovely emerald and diamond right-hand ring for her birthday. Emerald is her birthstone and she'd wanted one for longer than she could remember.

I think he thinks I'm being nosy but I do not care

She got several other nice presents too. The cake tasted like angels singing.

I don't remember what time it was when everyone was finally out the door. I know that I managed not to cry when Andrew, Brittany, and baby Ember drove away.

I do recall sitting in my recliner very late that night, talking to Stephanie, and being afraid I would fall asleep right where I sat, quite possibly mid-sentence.

It was buttercream icing with raspberry filling ... her favorite

Allissa had gone home with Audrey and Dagny for the night, so the next morning, they all arrived at around nine.

Stephanie and the girls set out for home at about nine thirty.

Audrey, Dagny, and I took a walk, after which they left to do all they had to do that day.

Dagny with half-eaten cookies for eyes

I had no agenda except to rest. Which is good because resting was all I had the energy for.

Meanwhile TG, Allissa, little Andrew, and Dagny have had another grand adventure since Memorial Day.

I will tell you about that in due time. But first, the next party is taking place this coming Saturday.

Cruising to the next party in a red '57 Chevy

It is to celebrate Dagny's seventh birthday.

Her actual birthday is on Monday -- Flag Day -- hence the theme for her party (chosen by her): Red, White, and Blue.

Well, that's easy.

Hoist the colors!

The pirate promises to report!

Meanwhile, I hope you will have a pleasant end to your week, and a peaceful weekend.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday