So, did I mention we love Sundays at our house? Not just Sunday nights- although that's like the cherry on top of the Sundae (no pun intended), the whipped cream on top of the shake, the icing on top of the...okay, you get it. Sunday evenings are lovely, too. After I spend about 5 hours in the kitchen (I'm not kidding. Sort of. Okay, I'm kidding.), making and cleaning up a fabulous (if I do say so myself) Sunday dinner for the kidlets (who, even in their young age, have now come to expect such spreads and hold me to it) and for one good man (who tends to the needs of said kidlets while I slave away in the kitchen to prepare said spread), we finally, tummies warm and full, kitchen clean, retire to the outdoors for our lezurrrrly walk. It's leisurely because we usually have some straggler on a tricycle who must stop to climb on every rock, or stare at every beatle, or simply experiment with slow motion and inertia (ever seen a drunk on a tricycle?) And we usually walk for a very. long. time. And we actually stop and talk to neighbors and friends (unbelievable, huh- people do that here.) And I love it.
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