When I was little, Sunday dinner at Grandma's was a frequent event and a major gathering of family. I loved the delicious home-cooked meals. I especially remember yellow beans with buttered bread crumbs and pineapple upside down cake with real whipped cream...not Cool Whip. I was fascinted with the adult discusssion at these events. My mother's brothers were loud, argumentative and opinionated, but also highly intelligent. Sometimes when I was done eating, rather than excusing myself, I would crawl under the table and just sit there listening.
Today after church, Bill and I said that we would help his Dad plant the gravesites of his parents and other family members in a small cemetery outside of town. On the way there, we stopped at a sub shop for lunch. Two older ladies were behind the counter making the subs to order. A family was already seated and eating when we arrived. As they got up to leave, the mother said to her daughter, "Go say 'good-bye' to Grandma." The young girl stuck her head in the door that led behind the counter and called, "Bye, Grandma." Then the young woman called out, "Thanks, Mom."
Now that gives new meaning to Sunday Dinner with Grandma!
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