Bedtime Stories

Today we went to a barbecue at the Werners' in Montclair. It was really fun. Barbara is a Whole Foods chef, John is a pro griller, and we had moist & sticky nine-napkin barbecue chicken; grilled peppers, portobello mushrooms and zucchini; baked beans; and fresh strawberries that Terry and her boys picked. H. also brought over a platter with hummus, feta and that tomato I bought at the Greenwich farmstand yesterday.

Good Clean Fun
It felt so all-American. Punch was visiting, and she had a great time playing with N., who has always loved her and taken her under her wing. N. is 8; Punch is 3. They have so much fun together. It is so sweet to behold. I thank God for N. ["N. is my best friend," Punch said on the car ride home.]

They both got pretty filthy, between eating ripe watermelon and playing in the sandy soil over at the bottom of the grassy park. They also played hide and seek [me against them], ran away from the friendly big dog [who liked the chocolate-chip cookies Punch was holding in her tiny grasp], talked about make-believe fairies with me, and got barbecue sauce and strawberry juice all over their hands.

BTW, not a potato chip in sight. How'd John and Barbara do that? When we host a BBQ, we always succumb to a big bag of Lay's. Now I feel much more virtuous, after a summer holiday feast that was chipless.

Good Night, Sweetheart
Punch was dirty head to toe and had a nice warm bath [I used some of the lavender bath salts from Whole Foods, very soothing]. Figgy came home soon after we did. She was only away one night at the shore, but I missed her. I don't like her growing up. I want her to stay small. She came home with a bit of a cold and made her own cheeseburger. I miss reading her bedtime stories. As odd as it sounds, I still offer to read to her now and then. She says no.

But not Punch! She of course loves it. One of our favorites is Go Dog. Go! a book I bought for Figgy at the Stop & Shop in Orleans [on the Cape] in November 2004, when she was nine. [I know because I inscribed it to her with all of those details and had her sign it, too. I had fun, she wrote in her flowery scrawl.] It was originally published in 1966. In my book, the more retro, the better.

I miss my Figgy, even though she's right under my roof. I'd love to go read to her in her sleep right now. Maybe it would sink in subliminally.

Sweet dreams.