Most of my days are good days, some better than others, and then there are the days shared with my Kids; those are the best. Yesterday, a combined celebration of birthday/Mother's Day, was certainly one of the gold-star variety. Deb arrived shortly after I'd finished with barn chores, then Dave, Larry, and Clay came roaring up on their motorcycles (my very own biker gang!). There were some missing (and missed) persons: Pete lives in southern California, Craig had to stay home and treat some bug that had laid him low, and Susan had a prior commitment. Deb set to work and made huge bowls of guacamole and pico de gallo to go with the pulled pork and shredded chicken I had ready for a taco bar while I made a big pan of Spanish rice as a side dish and a lemon meringue pie for dessert. For me, there's nothing better than being in the kitchen talking, laughing, cooking, sampling with those I love most on this earth. (Okay, it's the best place to be even with strangers. They can't stay strangers long when there's food involved.) I received cards from family and friends, some that touched my heart and others that tickled my funny bone.
Who knew that tacos have as much tryptophan as turkey? They must, because after eating, the boys (to me, they'll always be boys) went into the living room to turn on NASCAR and doze. Deb and I used the quiet time to catch up on each other's news. Later, Larry went out and got my weedeater going; he's not a NASCAR fan. He and Deb had to leave early. Dave and Clay stayed until the end of the race, which Clay's driver won. Clay was happy. Dave, not s'much. As darkness fell, Bessie Anne and I stood in the driveway and watched as the last taillights blinked.
On a scale of one to ten, days with my Kids are twelves...the best.