It’s our favorite week of the year: my brother and his wife are visiting.  It’s a week long feast,  a cornucopia of conversation, a festival of friendship.  Mornings begin with my brother the barrista making lattes for all with an espresso machine that is stored at our house and used just this week.  It’s the only time of the year that I drink coffee!   Blessings heap onto more blessings until they topple over in an untameable fashion.  The music from the garage wafts into the house as the best tenor in the world exercises his voice.  My sweet Valeri, the best organizer in the world,  gives free consultations on kitchen clutter, home decorating, cooking gadgets, medical questions, etc.

One of our favorite shared activities is cooking together and putting on meals for family and friends.  Yesterday we cooked a Bolognese sauce that simmered on the stove all day.  We used it for lasagne, added fresh from the oven foccacia, tender green beans, and the most gorgeous green salad you’ve ever tasted.  The long table was set with linens, the wine poured.  Curt gave thanks, and then we enjoyed four hours of laughter, memories, shared experiences, family stories, photos from recent trips, and time together. 

My firstborn son got the loudest laughs of the night.  We were recounting a trip we made to SF when the boys were under 10.  Dan and Val pulled out all the stops and made us gourmet meal after gourmet meal.  Our boys were starving.  The foreign food was not agreeable to their palate.  They were so excited when pizza was the meal that night.  To their chagrin only one pizza was “normal”.  And everyone scarfed it up. The rest were carmelized onions and gorgonzola cheese, smoked salmon and gouda, pizzas the adults savored and the kids detested.  Chris is building the story up to the climax.  “And then,” he adds, “they served us Placenta!”  We howled as he backtracked and searched the for word he intended……uh, polenta.