Sunday Lunch

It has been weird not going to church lately. I’m ready to get back to a more normal routine, which should start happening soon. Tate will be six weeks old on Tuesday, so he’s getting bigger and stronger every day. Besides catching up last week’s episode of Toddlers and Tiaras this morning, I managed to get some really cute Tate photos. He’s modeling on the beautiful quilt made for him by his godmother Kellaura.

When Trent and Rush got home from church we had the usual weekly dilemma of WHAT ARE WE DOING FOR LUNCH? It’s a minor meltdown for me most Sundays. Growing up, we went out to eat with my grandparents, Gran and Pop, every single Sunday after church. Every Sunday, without fail, we went straight from St. Mark’s to their house, then headed to Luby’s or Bonanza or Po’ Folks, which served drinks in mason jars and served the fried clams that I crave to this day. There were the occasional weeks that we picked up a bag of burgers from Short Stop and ate at their house, but most weeks we went to a restaurant. After Pop died and the Sunday lunches ended, our family just floundered about on Sunday after church. None of us really knew what to do with ourselves without a standing lunch date.

Eleven years later I still haven’t been able to pull it together for lunch on Sundays. Every week in the car on the way home from church I start wishing for Gran and Pop to show up to take me to Luby’s. Pop often gave the vague, joking threat of just staying home and eating a bologna sandwich, which never once happened, but at this point I would take that just to solve the problem of what to do for lunch.

Sunday lunch was a big deal for Trent’s family growing up as well, but in his case it was a big family lunch cooked and enjoyed at home. They continue the tradition today and I have participated in a number of Sunday lunches with the Williams. The problem with adopting that tradition for our own family is the fact that lunch on Sunday is my breaking point. I’m completely sick of thinking of meal ideas, cooking, and cleaning up after meals from the week. Plus, again, I’m waiting to meet up with Gran and Pop for some General Wok. I recommended to Trent, who always talks about how he wants to cook more, that he could totally be in charge of lunch on Sundays, making any new recipe he chooses. So far, no luck. Today, after working through my floundering 11:30 Sunday feeling, it was a rushed trip to the grocery store for a rotisserie chicken.

It was fine, but still. Someone come take me out to eat!

About the lack of Rush photos: I’ve tried to take pictures of him lately, but it’s like trying to take a picture of dolphins from the ferry. He’s in constant motion and I always end up taking the picture a second too late. It’s more likely that I end up with a picture of where he was. The bowl of nuts above was left behind by Rush the other day after he was helped me cook. I’m not sure what he was making, but I’m impressed that he skipped all the spoons in the utensil drawer, opting for the pizza cutter and juicer. What else would you need for a bowl of nuts? He’s obviously a very creative thinker.