Eating dinner for our family is always a sit-down-at-the-table affair. Julia stands on her tip-toes to reach the silverware drawer and spreads the utensils around to our respective spots, we all share a cup of water (mostly out of laziness - one cup is easier to pour than three!), and dinner is devoured. Dishes are left on the counter, half scraped and forgotten until the next day. A few Saturdays ago we spent the day at home instead of traveling to nearby cities, parks, or doing our usual thrift store shopping. Things had gone so smoothly at home that we actually sat down to eat at a decent hour. We even used napkins. Nothing out of the ordinary graced our plates when my fork lifted the creamy mashed potatoes to my mouth but it was suddenly met by tears streaming down my face. "Are you crying?" He asked. * sniff * As soon as I start to cry my nose gives it away. It's a tell-tale sign that I'm about to lose it. "What's wrong?" He persis
Blogging a little.