SteppeMice of Simmer

We had such a lovely visit with Queenie and the Fireman. It was so good to see them. We sort of distanced--we bumped elbows in jest instead of the hugs I wanted to give them. And then we sat at opposite ends of the table and didn't really breathe on each other. They brought some nice coldcuts and cheese, and some bagels, which I ate out of politeness because bagels from the supermarket are very ersatz, as our father would have said. The bread I made came out VERY well, if I do say so myself. Ninety degree weather is perfect for making it rise well. I put out some salad and pickles, mayo and mustard. They also brought a little tray of fruit, so I didn't get to feed them any of my strawberries. We also had diet pop to celebrate. I had orange pop. I haven't had any in ages. It always reminds me of being a little kid in southern Illinois, and my uncle putting a dime in the machine to get me an ice-cold Fanta. It seemed like magic. Queenie had root beer and said it was going to make her cry because of too many memories. We looked at books and showed each other pictures and poems, and told bad old jokes. It was a hell of a day at sea, sir. They had to go home pretty early because they were tired out from watching their one-year-old grandson all day yesterday.