Because Lora asked and my comment-in-response quickly became longer than a comment:
Spaghetti and sauce and spinach salad and strawberries. And water because I totally forgot that we might want something to wash all those s's down with. Don't come to my house parched. I'm the worst at remembering to offer you something to drink. Unless you're willing to help yourself to whatever happens to be on the bev shelf of the fridge, you might very well dry up and blow away.
Our entertainment involved watching the kiddos climb up and down the ladder in the "clubhouse"with hands filled to varying degrees with miscellaneous "tools" (no bets were taken on who'd bleed first, not that the over-under didn't cross my mind), intercepting sandbarkrocks from the planters in the garden, and turning kiddos upside down to make sure they weren't harboring any sand in their tiny tiny crevices. Also, lots of stories that began with "So as I was saying..." which, come to think of it, might very well have actually been just one story, the ending of which we never got to.
I looked forward to it all week and it did not disappoint. My house feels homiest after an evening of easy, unscripted chatter.
Sexy Chef Cookbook
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