Missing

I miss the grand kids.  Even miss Maggie.  When I finally get back to their house, will Maggie remember me?  Will she be so happy waiting for me at the top of the stairs?  Making that strange Maggie welcoming sound, wanting to be petted?  Although she isn't smiling in this picture, Maggie is a dog with a smile.  I like that.

I am missing baseball, of all things.  Missing the fireworks on the riverfront.  Missing the statistics and the stories, I love those.  There is nothing, nothing, like sitting at the ballpark in the late afternoon watching the evening come in.  I miss youth baseball.  And softball.

It should be a warmer week, and for that I am grateful.  Warmer weather will get me out the door.  

I have my grocery order in place and a time locked in - not until Friday.  Now I'm working on the second part, what I'll add toward the end of the week.  Not the things I get every time, like yogurt and crackers, but the things I might want to cook.  The good stuff.  What I've learned:  three weeks is too long between orders.  Not that I don't have plenty, I do, but I too quickly ate the stuff I especially enjoy.

I haven't had any take-out since the quarantine started, but I'm seriously thinking about Gold Star and their vegetarian Cincinnati chili.  But, I have no mask.  I've made masks for others but none for me.  I might just have to fix that.  I'm thinking about the four-way with spaghetti, chili, beans, soft shredded cheese.  The sauce has cinnamon, among other things.  You might need to try it to appreciate it.