Yesterday, we spent the day with my grandparents.
This was taken last November when my grandma turned 79.
My grandpap is 87. Yes, 87. If I look that good (and am still moving) when I am 87, I will consider myself very lucky.
I swear that my grandparents have more of a social life than I do! They are never home when we call or stop over to visit. They are always running here and there and doing all kinds of cute “grandparent” stuff.
We try to have dinner together on a Sunday at least once every couple of weeks. It is time that I cherish and every time I am there, I thank my lucky stars that I still have them in life.
Last night’s dinner was heaven. It was pure comfort food. We had baked chicken (with some amazing coating my grandma invented), quinoa pilaf, candied sweet potatoes, and regular mashed potatoes (because my pap is getting harder and harder to please).
Queenie wanted to help with dinner.
Gotta love the honeycomb linoleum in the kitchen! It has been there for as long as I can remember.
Dinner was finished up with desserts, which is common practice at the grandparent’s. My mom made some butterscotch concoction that was made with pudding and crushed up cookies. It was the sweetest thing I have ever tasted…so I made sure to have seconds. It was heaven! As we were dialing our dentists after eating my mom’s dessert, my grandma brought out carrot cupcakes and black bean brownies. Really, the whole family is head over heels in love with these black bean brownies. It’s become quite an unhealthy obsession. Although, I guess it’s healthier than being obsessed with regular fudge brownies. Anyway, after dessert, we all sat at the table (or should I say slumped in our chairs) and complained about how full we were.
After dinner, we just sit around the table, have coffee, and talk. Well, last night we had coffee andWhite Russians. I’m not sure what prompted my grandma to make them…she just brought in a pitcher and poured us all a glass. This was, mind you, after we polished off a few bottles of wine with dinner. Anyway, we talked, my grandpap told jokes that we have all heard 100 times (but still laugh hysterically at), and sipped our drinks.
I know there will come a time when I won’t be able to have dinner at my grandparent’s house on Sundays. I don’t like to think about that. So, for now, I enjoy every minute I have with them. I know I am one of the lucky ones.
And, when my grandparents hug and kiss me and say, “Thanks for visiting with us,” as I leave, I just smile. They definitely don’t have to thank me. There is no other place I would rather be on a Sunday. 🙂