Saturday Trains and Sunday Pains

This grand loves trains and most especially Thomas and crew — James, Neville, Emily, Fergus. You know, the names that flow trippingly from the tongue. The grand was going on and on about "cranky" Saturday and I thought he was mimicking something that his mother or father had called him. No, "Cranky" is a crane. It's going to take a while for this Nonni to catch up, but I'm trying. Oh, boy, I'm trying.

The grands have a train track that runs directly behind their home and a railroad crossing just one house down. Whenever the trains go by and the whistle is heard, Sam shudders and says "Bert." Bert is a dreaded diesel engine. :D



My mother, the grand's great-grandmother, had decided that he should see the vintage train show at the local garden. It was being held in the shed and barn...I now know where the expression "it's as cold as a barn" comes from...brrrrr. It was wonderful to see Sam respond to all the trains, but most especially to the set of Thomas. Thomas kept leaping the track and had to take a rest, which delighted Sam for some reason. The only time that he got upset was when we had to leave for he didn't want to say goodbye to the trains. Now I'm hoping that his father will get out his childhood Lionel set and place it under the tree this year because Sam will absolutely love that.

After lunch, Sam's great-grandmother had another surprise for him — creating a gingerbread train. Ohhhh boy! It provided us with an opportunity to practice that it's not about the product; it's all about the process. Here's the little picture story.











Oh yes, there was a whole lot of munching going on.

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Yesterday afternoon after church, John took me out to dinner. I hurriedly gathered my new sweater since I knew that it was bitter cold and the restaurant would be cooler than usual. (Every place is keeping the heat way low.)

As we finished our meal, John leaned over to pick at my sweater with a puzzled "What's this?"

I'll tell you what it was...the sweater size, one that I'd prefer not to advertize, boldly proclaimed in what might as well have been neon lights from my shoulder to my waist. Nothing like a little humble pie along with one's sirloin tips!

Have a delicious Monday, Dear Ones!