One fledgling has re-left the nest.

So with that intro we moved into the weekend. Friday was our wedding anniversary, a “non-milestone” number of years (“Music” is the traditional gift for this year, if you are curious), and like most anniversaries we kept the celebration low-key. Really low-key. The weather was terrible, so instead of Handmade Lobster Ravioli with Sage and Browned Butter for dinner, in the dining room and with the formal china, Anna Grace and I, standing in the queue to enter Trader Joe’s, thought Chili Dogs might be more fitting. And so it was.

The following day dawned sunny and completely the opposite of the day before. I dashed to our village’s little farmer’s market where…I BOUGHT A COW!

Well, not really. At our absolutely amazing village farmer’s market I chatted with the owner of a local Jersey Dairy Farm. The sale of raw cow milk in Tennessee is not permitted; however, for the price of a Herd Share I am then permitted access to the milk, cream, and butter produced! Whenever I wish over the next year I can place my order, then collect it at the market. My kind of farming.

Yes, I am well aware that our Centers for Disease Control frowns upon the consumption of raw milk. The Centers might desire to antibody test our family; given all that we have consumed in our foreign travels, it is possible that we are immune to bacteria and viruses that have yet to be discovered. 🤣

It has been all good here at Chateau Hampton Roads, but on Saturday morning Oldest Millennial announced that he, “hates driving Mom’s car” to run errands. (Said Millennial prefers Tony’s crossover.) The Millennial was made to pay penance for his profanity.

The fledglings stepped up later in the day and made the pasta for the anniversary dinner, while I steamed the (frozen, wild caught–because I am not a lobster killer) lobsters; and the raviolis were made. An Oregon white was chilled and the formal china dusted off. An exceptional supper.

Our Takeout Tuesday lunch came with history. Known more commonly as, “Walking Taco,” or “Frito Pie in a Bag,” the epicurean marriage of chili atop Fritos was born at the 1982 World’s Fair right here in Knoxville!  “The Original Petro” was served in Frito bags until the switch in 1988 to cardboard “barrels.” Their Hint of Orange (Un)sweet Tea, like their menu, has a cult following. Based on reactions around the table I think we have all become cult followers.

Up in the master bath an ugly duckling is becoming a swan.

On Monday came word: the movers would be in San Francisco on Saturday! Flights were booked and the packing commenced.  A farewell supper of–what else–barbeque was enjoyed on the terrace. On Friday Jack messaged that DFW was “gross” and the view from his postage stamp-size flat was “amazing.”

Social distancing and masks-where-requested we can oblige. The contagion of media misinformation, conspiracy theories, and panic porn about the virus? We’re long immune to that.