My eyes were bigger than my stomach this weekend. I brought home sample size pieces and froze them. Today at lunch, just me (Bob gone to work) I popped those frozen leftovers into the glass covered cassarole dish and into the microwave, and voila---wonderful lunch of comfort food. yum.
this has been your boring blog of the day.
We had such fun eating with Ben this weekend. As I consumed the piece of the two meals, I remembered Ben and talking with him. He is all grown up. An honored guest, and yet more...we desire the best for him: a loving, godly wife, and cute babies, and a job he enjoys to do as unto the Lord, a long life dying at a ripe old age surrounded by his grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Even as we desire this for each of our sons. Last night we got to skype with Andy in Anchorage, his dear wife and four year old and 3 month old. The four year old has so much energy. And the three month old is so alert and entertained by the constant parade of sister, dog, loving parents, voices, and he has found his hands--his thumb and his fingers. Growing like a weed, that one! A dream baby--so good, then falls asleep, and then wakes up for more. Amazing. I think they'd have more if they were all guaranteed like this baby.
But, some babies cry. Some have collic. Some have allergies, and issues, and some are not as easy. I have read two blogs of two different families raising feral children---wild, wild little girls that do the most astonishing things, who are nothing like their own sisters. One mom put it thusly: "they march to a different drummer who we suspect is high on crack" (the drummer, not the child, of course.)