Monday night is one of Diane’s nights to cook. Matt has Thursday and I know I have Tuesday but sometimes I forget. Maybe it’s a directions thing because yesterday I was at Shaw’s buying food for dinner.

Which is always a challenge. Sometimes Matthew and I wander the aisles like observers from another dimension. There are the choices, but we can’t seem to pluck them from the shelves. Yesterday, I thought, how about spaghetti and meatballs? We frequently have pasta and we frequently have meatballs, but rarely the two together. I tossed in jar of sauce, without mushrooms, and a can of whipped cream (for Diane’s coffee, not dinner) and headed to check out.

Diane arrived home early for a Monday, with two bags of groceries.

“I thought I’d cook tonight,’‘ offered in my most humble, self serving manner. She is so accustomed to this, it fazes her not at all. ‘So what did you buy?’‘ I asked.

“Meatballs from Idlywilde, to go with the pasta in the freezer, spaghetti sauce and a can of whipped cream.”

I do have that photo of John and Matthew mowing the grass. And I’ll post it as soon as I get it back from Diane who took it to her group to show Wendy Rosen.

Susan, I’m planning on picking you up at Logan. My afternoon is free.

Lake Sylvia, the summer of 1990.
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