Parents Weekend

I’m very fortunate that despite the fact that my parents live 700 miles away i still see them many times a year. Last week my parents went down to Hilton Head and on their way home, stopped at my house.  Friday afternoon Dad and I went for a run, taking little Buddy boy along.  Then we went and had an amazing dinner at a small southern bistro called Mozelle.  It sort of seemed like maybe it was Winston’s own little Chez Panisse – open kitchen, small atmosphere, obvious “regulars” and delicious and fresh seasonal foods on the menu. 

Saturday, Matt and Dad went golfing and Mom and I hit up the JL Rummage Sale.  I love when one woman's trash becomes my treasure!  I found two plates for food blogging or bunko parties and a number of paperbacks, all a quarter each.  This is the first time I’ve broken my reading resolution, but I think it was a good exception!  I read one (a chick lit book) in the span of 48 hours already.

Afterwards, we went home and picked up some groceries for dinner.  Once upon a time, my mom used to take me to the mall when she came to visit. Now she takes me to Harris Teeter.  Hmm.  Seems like my priorities have shifted.  (Reflected in the fact that my cooking has vastly improved since 2002, and my wardrobe largely remains stagnant since then.)  After that, my dad went for a run and my mom and I spent the afternoon sitting on the deck with a Kunde Gewürztraminer from my Sonoma trip.  My mom and I often text each other “wish you were here, having coffee on the deck!” or “wish you were here, having a glass of wine on the porch!”  So, believe me the moments I actually get to do so, I savor every moment of it. 

Once my dad got home, I set to work cooking for them.  After 18 years of them cooking for me, it’s nice to return the favor. After dinner Dad put the hockey game on and Mom and I sat around and talked…so it was basically just like being at home, only it was my home.

Returning the “Eat your Veggies” favor to my parents.

Today, they got on the road extra early.  Strange that when they leave my home, I still feel a little bit homesick.  You know you did something right in parenting if your kids are sad to see you go. 

(On an unrelated note, the fact that the only picture I have from spending 48 hours with my parents is a bowl of spinach is a sign that my food photography obsession has gone too far.)