Friday night pizza

It's been a long, busy week here in Enanoslivoland (say that five times fast). Tomorrow and Sunday hold little rest, but much celebration. Tomorrow is a big medieval faire-with-an-e in our town center, put on by the library for the children's summer reading program. With sword fighting, animals, crafts, knights in armor, jousting and a catapult, it promises to be a good time. On Sunday we head to Kokomo to celebrate Mike's sister and her husband's 15th wedding anniversary. They will renew their vows at Mass, then we will eat, eat, eat and have a good time. Congratulations Crista and Chad!!

Today I delivered a lovely bunch of flowers for a beautiful bride and groom. Elia came along as my helper, cutest helper around.
There was plenty more that happened this week, and we are ever so grateful to God for his care and protection for ourselves and for our loved ones. God is good, all the time.

Tonight we are tired.




The husband grew up with Friday night pizza or Lincoln subs at the beach.
They would arrive just in time to linger and watch the sunset.

I grew up with Friday night tamales -mmmm rajas con queso. We'd go to this little store front in Puebla, I don't remember the name, and we would all choose our favorites. Mom and Dad usually had mole, I don't remember what my sisters chose, Kenny always chose the sweet tamal with pudding and either pineapple or raisins in it, which I thought was disgusting, and I always chose rajas con queso, or tamal rojo. I can almost taste them now. Oh, they were good.

Not often enough in the summer do we find ourselves at the beach. Promising the children that "the faster you eat, the faster we head down to the water", we pass out paper napkins, scarf down our food and try not to leave a mess behind. We clean our picnick table, take off our flip flops and head down the stairs to the sand and water.

Don't let these pictures fool you, the water was cold.
Liquid ice cold.
I dipped my toes in, and the husband got in up to his knees, but that's only because one of the kids was drowning.
Three guesses who, and if you guess Elia, Josie, or Mikey, you are wrong. Oh, that boy.

Not all of us swam.

The girl comes by her love of reading honestly. Both her father and her mother are never found far from a book. If I had a nickel for every picture my parents took of me with a book in hand, well, I'd probably be up to a buck twenty. She's a reader, the Elia is. Even Josie loves to read. She claims to hate it, but she spends a good chunk of her day hunkered down in the porch, nose in a book. If that's hate, then keep on hating, little girl.

So my kids are growing up much the same way their Papi did. Not bad.

Although I still wish there were a good tamal place around here. I could go for a rajas con queso right about now.