We slide down Reservoir Hill. I scream the whole way down, completely involuntary. I haven't been on a sled in 18 years. And Reservoir doesn't look like much till you're at the top and those people at the bottom are sooo teensy.
I'm covered in snow, glad about borrowing a pair of long underwear from Mike.
"Hey," he says. "Dinner plan. Wouldn't lamb stew be good tonight?"
I shake my head at first. I don't have any lamb, for one thing, and another, it's a crock pot meal in my house. Then I realize what he means.
Irish pub for dinner.
We go on over and sit in one of their back rooms. The kids wander outside onto the patio, covered for winter, to see the fire pit and waterfall covered in ice.
Indeed, the lamb stew is perfect.
On the way out, the hazy Irish music and Fiona telling me it's a reel, mom, that's a reel, and dancing just a bit, the crowded atmosphere and the dark wood paneling with Guinness posters above, and there are the Paxtons in one of the center rooms. Daisy goes and hugs Bree. I say hi to Travis and Zelda--they're there with Travis' family and I don't want to be that person. But I say hi. Tell them the story of sledding. They saw our car and knew we were in here somewhere.
I walk back out into the cold with Daisy. Jake and the other two went out the back door and missed the neighbors. We climb into the car with shivers and leftovers, head back home.
1 comment:
my kids were looking at that on the way home from violin lessons last night. i'll have to tell them i have it on authority that it's as good as it looks.
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