of meals and conversations

Another one of these lazy Indian-summer weekends where we do lots and lots of cool stuff and hang out with friends. Moved furniture all Friday afternoon with Carole; had wickedly delicious Cambodian that night with Shannon, Cian, Morrisa, Miranda, Salome and Milodora in utero; it’s so cool that Salome wants to hang out with our mom’s-club now.

Saturday we kept Rowan all day to find out what it would like to have twins. Answer: exhausting. Ten thousand cheers and commiserations for all parents of twins. Matters improved greatly when we zoomed across the bay to see Jonathan and Re and Knoa and Avi and the neighbors and the neighbors’ kids Jack and Daphne. The toddlers ran around the Jaffe-Tsang mansion and ate dip by the fistful and fought over toys and plotted against one another and danced to electronic music and generally had a high old time of it. Us old folk sat in the sun and drank beer and tequila and argued over which was woollier, Episcopalianism or Unitarianism, and laughed a lot. It was jolly nice.

Sunday I yearned for fried plaintains, so we summoned Kat and hiked down to a particularly nice Honduran hole-in-the-wall that I can never remember the name of, where the plaintains are crisp as toffee and the hot chocolate is a poem. I spent three hours at 826 reading American Pastoral and waiting in vain for someone to tutor, picked up groceries on the way home, summoned Kat once again and roasted a chicken with bread-and-parsley stuffing and caramelized potatoes and carrots: mmm. Tonight, leftovers. And pie!

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