family files

I was poking through my recipe folder last night, when everything fell out all over the place, as all my shit is always wont to do. It's been a rough week in Kennedy-ville.  We lost a matriarch and had some major kid stuff going on and the whole world has felt like one big fat exposed nerve. So the spilled recipes were small taters, my recipes are an unmitigated collection of disasters to begin with, they are always crusty and speckled and nonsensical. They used to be clipped to the fridge wily nily or shoved in a drawer in similar style, but one day my husband took it upon himself to find and label a file folder, and now I have a recipe file to drop on the floor store the instructions for preparing my various and sundry favorite meals.

After picking everything up and putting it away and getting back to the business at hand, I found a sticky note face down on the floor and grabbed it to toss in the trash. Thank goodness I caught sight of the handwritten gold on the front before doing so, cuz look:

AwwWWWWWaaaaaaAA! It made me all schmoopy again. I miss Ellie and her 40-cat-crazy handwriting, and I miss Julie and her yum recipes and delicious diet, but most of all I miss that salmon, yum.

There wasn't much time to fret or lament, however. I had in fact pulled the recipe file out for a reason. A crowd pleasing, foos inducing, yogurt slathering, lesbo reason:

The epitome of comfort food.

We had a nice meal together, clinked a toast to Mimi and ended the night with some old family videos from our boy's baptism at 26 Bettswood Road where we got to visit with herself, and dad, and Uffie, and Dr. Cronin.

Sigh.  

Rest in peace, Mimi. We love you.