The Russian iris beside a soft focus candle at one end of the table. Stephanie and Joel at the other, discovering their birthday gift of a bike rack. Their gifts to each other involved bike gear, too.
Menu at their request--Mom's chicken corn soup from scratch (not the chicken's) and a new entry from the Miller tradition-- short cake with ice cream and strawberries and milk. A big hit.
Philosophy--what direction will volunteerism in church take with some women not employed and others over-employed.
Local details--are strawberries usually ready by Joel's birthday (the 22nd) or by Steph's (the 26th)?
New being--Brutus the dog, Ryan and Sarah's. Then, the men played boccie and the women walked to Red Lane and all went to bed happy.
Memorial Day to me is memory day--memory of the sweet spots in life and memory that organized civic and national life, including war, if it is an absolute allegiance, is one sorry god.
iris pic by Joel.
Over the weekend we added boards to the table, cooked up some stew and paused for Ryan's 29th birthday, replete with ceremony; and we gave Sarah the floor to talk about ending a 6.5 year tenure at Ephrata Hospital and starting a new job at Lancaster's big hospital. They together told us about their imminent trip to Kalona for a wedding. Dogmeister Brutus tries to hold up and be brave and share the stage with le Montreal coq we bought this summer. (Cake pic by Joel; Sarah pic by Stephanie)
