Happy birthday, Grandpa
Today we spent the afternoon and evening at Fr. Costin's house with the Guggs. It was glorious.
We started with the pool, since it was nice and sunny and the food wasn't ready yet. We played and swam, then sat in the (warm, not just a source of light!) sun. Then came the most beautiful lunch. (The most beautiful lunch comes with two desserts: cheesecake with apricot spread on top, and an ice-cream–sweet-bread–and–fruit sundae.) Between and after the desserts there was ping-pong.
My sweet husband forced me to go, and helped me get ready, even though I was feeling rather anti-social most of yesterday and this morning. I am constantly left in wonderment at how wonderful he is. He sounds like the stories my mother always tells about her father.
Grandpa was born on July 4, 1913. His mother always told him that the parades were for him, but when he went to school, his classmates told him (for the first time) that they weren't. My mother says that his mother loved him so much that she thought there should be parades for him.
May his memory be eternal.
We started with the pool, since it was nice and sunny and the food wasn't ready yet. We played and swam, then sat in the (warm, not just a source of light!) sun. Then came the most beautiful lunch. (The most beautiful lunch comes with two desserts: cheesecake with apricot spread on top, and an ice-cream–sweet-bread–and–fruit sundae.) Between and after the desserts there was ping-pong.
My sweet husband forced me to go, and helped me get ready, even though I was feeling rather anti-social most of yesterday and this morning. I am constantly left in wonderment at how wonderful he is. He sounds like the stories my mother always tells about her father.
Grandpa was born on July 4, 1913. His mother always told him that the parades were for him, but when he went to school, his classmates told him (for the first time) that they weren't. My mother says that his mother loved him so much that she thought there should be parades for him.
May his memory be eternal.
posted by magda at 9:38 PM
3 Comments:
May his Memory be Eternal!
Isn't "sweetbread" some kind of innard?
Sheesh, Miriam. It's like you expect me to know the meanings of the words I use. Sweet bread, as in bread that is sweet and I was tired of over-hyphenating. [Fixed, with sweet en dash action.]
*shudder* Sweetbread and ice cream is definitely not the same as sweet bread (like coffee cake and ice cream.
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