dreamstuff, food, misc, The Tiniest Capen


I woke up at 6:30, having had terrible, vivid, and aggressive dreams about teeth and Dorothy and housekeeping and ugh don’t try to make sense of pregnancy dreams. And then I had some grand round ligament pains, so I gave up on sleeping and finished my book instead. Eventually, the dog woke up and noticed I was awake, and climbed up on the bed with me and cuddled in between me and Justin. When I woke Justin around 9:30, Mal decided it was pee time. PEE TIME NOW. Yes, dogface, I get it, but I need pants and shoes first, so be patient. He has this great calmly bouncy thing he does where he’s super excited to GO GO NOW LETS GO, but he’s never aggressive or noisy about it. So, after finding pants and shoes and a collar and leash, off we went and I took Malcolm for his walk this morning. How nice is it to have a reason to just go outside and walk the yard for 10 minutes? Walking with this big bouncy gentle giant makes me wish we had land. I’d have gone further and longer if there was more than a yard and a softball field to choose from.

Justin requested that I make french toast, so, clearly, I did. I never turn down an easy and earnest request. But, as usual, I made it by eye. 3 eggs, some milk, some cinnamon, a splash of almond extract, and the rest of the loaf of bread on the counter. I wondered, as I always do, if this is the time I’d mess it up somehow. (Nope.) Laid out a slab of bacon on racks in a baking sheet, and turned the oven on. By the time the french toast was done, we had perfect bacon. While we ate, him in a lake of maple syrup, and me with cinnamon sugar on one half and cherry preserves on the other, I said, “I want to make Swedish pancakes soon, too. I have my dad’s recipe somewhere.” He smiled, said ok, then, “I don’t actually know what you’re talking about.” Having grown up in the Rockford area, home of Swedes and Italians, my mind boggled for a moment. I guess I know what’s on our agenda next time we visit the family.

Later, I was telling a few brief Aunt Hilda stories (RIP, Hilda Ricci Borri) and I called her a force of nature. Again, he smiled at me and said, “you had strong female role models? You?” And I laughed. You think? They were an amazing bunch of women, the Ricci sisters. They taught us how to be family, and so much more.

And so my little family is enjoying a lovely lazy Saturday, complete with French toast and maybe a nap on the couch. Life’s grand.


Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *