I’m having nostalgic thoughts of pot roast, and fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, oh, corn on the cob, too, with hot rolls and dessert. Pies and cakes, all the wonderful foods that Sunday dinners are made of.
It’s not Sunday lunch either, it’s dinner, eaten at noon, and it’s wonderful. But here I sit, with my memories, eating cheese and crackers and frozen pineapple chunks. *sigh* I want the good old days back again… When the boys were little, sitting on the countertops while I cooked. When I was a young girl, going to Grandma’ Short’s for Sunday dinner, hoping that there would be a cousin or two to play with. And the best Sunday dinners of all, when I would go to my other Grandma’s house, Grandma Smith. Her food was the best! Chicken and dumplings and homemade rolls. It was so good…
I probably wouldn’t be so nostalgic if I would have gotten up and actually cooked myself real food. Tonight I will. Hubby is home at 5pm, I have pork chops thawing in the sink. We’ll have Sunday supper, that’s what we’ll have. That works, too! But no gravy, no fried chops, no butter melting over the mashed potatoes and no pie, either. Healthy Sunday supper, it’s just not the same…
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