It all collides at dinner: low blood-sugar, stimulus overload from a day of school, punchy tiredness, and the impossibility of getting four people at the table at the same time. Forget the genial family dinner set under the olive trees…
When I grew up we had dinner together. Children were called away from homework (television) or calls went out the front door to summon those in the fresh air. Hands were washed, places taken, and dinner began. I don’t know…
Somehow I’ve fooled myself into thinking my return home from work at the end of the day will be a 1905s Norman Rockwell painting. My wife will be drying her hands on a lace apron daintily draped over a beautiful…