Niece Julie and I had finished half our breakfast when John and grandson Nathaniel arrived from New York. It took them about 16 hours to drive here from Long Island. Julie and I eat slowly, so they soon caught up, and we had fruit together. To celebrate Nathaniel’s recent 18th birthday, Julie gave him a couple of baking gadgets. One I’d never seen before – a pastry marker.
After the meal, Nathaniel announced it was time for the mirror ritual. He pointed out where it should go so that he could see his face instead of his belt. After moving it up, he was satisfied. He will reverse the ritual when he leaves.
John had taken only two short naps on the drive down, so while he slept, we went to Waynesville to an art shop. Julie waited in the background as the artist signed the place mats she bought for her house-mate, Patty. The artist was a lot of fun, telling us that she is an up-and-coming artist. If we bought her work as an investment, we might make a lot of money. She also pointed out that burying a mayonnaise jar full of money in the backyard might be just as remunerative.
We couldn’t resist the photo board outside the shop, both of us women taking a turn with Nathaniel.
We laughed ourselves silly over a roast pork dinner. Nathaniel, who pretends to hate puns, declared he would not bake the promised Black Forest Cake if Grandpa made 20 puns that day. In a matter of minutes John racked up 13 points. He argued that each of Nathaniel’s puns should take a point off. By 9 pm the count was 18. John made one final pun that sent grandson reeling off to bed. They were talking about vintage cars. John said, in light of Nathaniel’s planned career, he should have a chef-fer for his car.