This is the view of the lawn from cousin Andrea's kitchen. Not so long ago she was living in New York and taking me for drinks with her banker buddies at Smith & Wollensky, where her frequent patronage and utter devotion is celebrated with a plaque in her honor. Now she comes home from the office at lunch and mows a few of her six riverfront acres in Louboutin boots. She recently texted me a photo of her Jimmy Choo pumps next to her L.L. Beans in the entry. Madison Ave. takes Michigan.
Below is Ms. Arnold at the helm, whipping up, oh, steak, buttered corn and several salads. I brought a three-minute pie. At the island is my mom, sister Anne, brother Dave, and Andrea's dad, my awesome Uncle Chuck.
That book in front of him is my late grandmother's log of all the guests she had to her home from the 1960s on. It's such a great idea and a wonderfully nostalgic read, coming across the names of all those old neighbors. Plus, it chronicles the changes in our handwriting as kids! We all should have guest logs.