Nothing was scheduled for the day. A true rarity.
George and I decided to take in a movie in the middle of the afternoon. Julie & Julia. A delight. Most of the audience were middle aged women. 4 men included. George was one of them. Talk of all that glorious food and we had leftovers for dinner. Practicality had to reign supreme.
I have to admit to conversations turning to food, politics or religion quite oftenaround here. Food sustains us through the rest of the crap. When things get tense at a dinner, we can always bring up menus. Things we've had, what we would like to have. Where people like to eat and why. What are good memories? That kind of thing. Tensions ease. I remember when my dad would start to get wound up about some problem going on in the world. He would get louder as the conversation went on. His eyebrows would start to come together and there would be this deep furrow on his forehead. Marge would start to look worried and
one of us would have to interject some old dish of some sort. Something his mother or grandmother would have made. Subject would change to reminiscing and life would be better for all. Especially dad. It took him back to time where there were absolutes. His mother and grandmother's cooking were absolutes for him. No could compare. I know a time when he said a meal of mine was just about the best he ever had, even the meals he had as a kid. I wept. I don't think he could have given me a better compliment.
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