You didn't even know I was gone, did you?
We headed south (not far south: we were still in Nebraska, and no one had an accent) and visited some dear friends named -- uh, oh ... I haven't given them blog names. Hmmm. I think I'll call them Clive and Joy (can you guess the reason?)
Anyway, Clive and Joy are hosts beyond compare. They treat us like kings and queens (or, given that Atticus is the only male in the family, like a king and his queen and little princesses.) Anne-with-an-e noted, "Aunt Joy is a great cook. I can't wait to see what she'll make for us!"
I always have that same joyful anticipation, though not just for the food. It's true that Joy knows that feeding = loving. (I know it, too, but I'm just not as good at it. I sometimes tend to love by proxy, letting someone else do the cooking, such as, say, a pizza delivery place. That doesn't mean I love any less, just that I'm less talented than some of my dear friends.) But, Joy and Clive also know that nothing beats open-ended, unstructured time with good friends. Add some good conversation, a dash of wine, a favorite beer, happy children, water fights, s'mores and lots of shared memories, and you have a recipe for a great weekend.
Thank you, Clive and Joy, for fifteen years of friendship and for your always superb and gracious entertaining.
And now, because we were gone all weekend, I'm off to love my family in a different way:
I'm headed to the laundry room.