Breaking bread

Breaking bread is such a great term for sharing a meal. Yesterday, my grandson Joe and his family were here.

Earlier in the week, April wrote and said, “Joe, Joey and I were wondering if you would be interested in spending the day with us this coming Saturday. We would love to come down in the mid-morning, have lunch and spend the day if that would be alright. We have all been wanting to come down for a visit, and this weekend we are off from Basketball and Baseball (for once!) and would love to see you.”

Naturally, I e-mailed right back and said “Yes.” I don’t remember ever initiating a visit with my grandmother; she was the one that set things up.

The family has to run their life around Joey’s busy schedule. He plays basketball, football, and baseball. He also plays the saxophone in the band. He is a top notch student in his class and loves to read. He just finished a research project on the Santa Barbara Mission in California. He started with a book from the library and then went online. He made a ceramic model of the building and drew a map of the interior. His written report and oral presentation covered everyday life of the men, women, and children. He explained to me that one has to cut down a written report by two-thirds to give a talk.

I cooked a small beef roast Friday night and baked bread Saturday morning. The bread came out of the oven a half an hour before they arrived. Joe carved the roast (very thin slices) and we had fresh tomatoes and lettuce for our do-it-yourself sandwiches.

Joey loves to explore. He covered the neighborhood on his own and then we took a drive around the island to gaze at the water and revisit places Joe remembered.

I have enough bread left for toast this morning. It keeps very well in this nifty little clear breadbox available through Amazon.