This blog is brought to you by the letter P

P is for Painting

It is chilly outside on Saturday, and yet the rain pouring down is warm, typical of the weather this time of year. In the kitchen Matthew paints on large pieces of paper. “This is a school bus going to the bank,” he let me know, while drawing squiggly lines from a yellow blob to a green and pink blob. In Matt’s ideal world everyone travels by school bus, even to the bank in the age of on-line banking.

“I need to take my socks off, Mama,” Matthew declares, putting down his paint brush long enough to tug off his navy blue socks one at a time. He wriggles his bare feet and then reaches for the bottle of black paint.

“All better?” I ask my little artist, covered in smudges of paint.

“Yes,” he replies and makes wide swirls of black on the paper, “This is Pepper.” He swooshes the brush a mug of water and then dips it into the yellow paint, “She is waiting for the school bus.”

P is for Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies
Sunday is warm and the rain has stopped. The fresh smell of leaves and the sound of acorns falling from the trees rush through our open windows. In the kitchen Matthew and I make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.*
“Okay Matt, you are in charge of the chocolate chips,” I hand him the bag, “Put as many in the bowl as you want.” Instead of tossing them in by the handful, he cautiously adds them one at a time. It feels like hours before he adds enough to put chocolate chip in the name of the cookie.


* The recipe is really simple. Take one box of spice cake mix, combine it with a can of pumpkin pie mix, and add as many chocolate chips as you want. Bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes.


P is for Patriots

Bob and I were both Patriots fans before we met. We were fans before the new stadium, before Tom Brady, and before they won a Super Bowl. After the Patriots won their second Super Bowl, Bob, his brother Mike, and I skipped work/school to see the victory parade in Boston. Mike was shorter than me then and now he is taller than Bob. That was also the day we learned about his uncanny sense of direction as he was the one who guided us through the roads that were crowded with 1.5 million people (quite literally), earning him the nickname “Mike Quest”. That day a stranger stopped Bob and I to ask if she could take our picture, for no reason other than we looked so happy and cute together. It was odd, but years later I engraved the words 1 in 1.5 million into Bob’s wedding ring.