When I was a child we would go to my parent's best friend's house in the mountains several times each year. I have the best memories of staying at their home and being in the crisp mountain air, looking out at the misty mountains in the morning and having warming conversations by the roaring fire.
We went to this house for Thanksgiving for many years. We'd be there for a day or so before Thanksgiving, but it always seemed magical how the house, which was a regular house every other day, had the atmosphere of a happy party when it grew close to time for Thanksgiving dinner. Appetizers would be put out on the coffee tables and end tables, we'd all get dressed in our nicer clothes in honor of the occasion, and the fire would be stoked even warmer.
Then there were the smells of dinner cooking. The turkey or roast wafted around the house for hours. There were bottles of beer chilling out on the cold, dark deck and shortly before dinner, friends who were also visiting the mountains would arrive to join in the celebration.
I also remember my special room. I got to sleep under the stairs on a military cot that I could get to after shimmying past the washer and dryer. Talk about cool sleeping spots. Years later I was older and they added a room on and I was too big for the cot at any rate, but I think I loved those under the stairs-sleeping years the best.
I also remember running up and down the stairs and touching the stone that ran up the entire center of the house, because it was the back side of the chimney. Richard, probably the closest thing I had to a brother, explained that after enough time, the rocks would warm all the way through and we could feel it.
At the end of each trip, we'd get up on Sunday morning and start packing and cleaning up. As a child there wasn't much of the cleaning I did, but I knew the trip was mostly over. We'd leave early because getting home on Sunday before dark meant time to prepare for the next week.
We usually stopped for fast food on the drive back. Except for a few years when my parents and their best friends got into this healthy, bean sprout-growing phase. Initially, it was exciting. They had these round plastic trays. They were green and you could see through the stack of them and watch bean sprouts growing. A "crop" would take about a week to grow (from what I remember.)
But a crop would take about two weeks to eat... unless you put sprouts on everything and maximized your sprout-eating opportunities so that you'd be done with your current batch when the next batch was ready to harvest.
They were good, but not every meal. I was a kid. I wanted french fries. I didn't want a sprout sandwich. I'm not sure how long we ate sprout sandwiches, but I was very glad when the phase passed and we could return to our standard meal of Hardees lunch on the way home.
I have so many memories of my parents best friend's house and the good times we had. My parents must have loved it just as much because not only did they buy a vacation home in the same town, they retired there.
The Big Boy Update: You can still feed him if he doesn't notice. He is going to feed himself that whatever-it-is, no matter how difficult it is to get into his mouth; that is unless he doesn't notice you're feeding him. He doesn't want you to spoon feed him unless he's distracted, say by a toy or Mickey Mouse on the television and then he'll baby bird and open right up. In these situations—especially when we're pressed for time and he's in no hurry to eat—it's time to shovel in full spoonfuls as fast as possible. Eventually he realizes what's happening and your window of expedient food consumption is over.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We have top teeth (not to mention drool.) She's got three teeth on the bottom, two which have been there for five months. Now she has two top teeth. She acts like the rest are about to bust out as soon as she can gum through her, well, gums to get to them. If she's unhappy for an unknown reason lately, it's probably her teeth. Or it could be snot. Snot that makes it hard for her to breath at night frustrates her. Last night she had a bit of an unhappy night. And guess who slept through the whole night and never made a sound while she complained loudly? Her brother.
Someone Once Said: Your best friend is the person who brings out the best in you. (I saw this at the Chiropractor's office this morning)
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