Sunday I ran some errands and ended up at Green Acres because I haven’t had any Lynne time in a while. We had fun catching up, plus Lynne put together a great dinner on a moment’s notice. This is not surprising because, unlike me, Lynne has what I call “Mom Kitchen.” I’ve never mastered this phenomenon, but if you ever decide you want to cook or bake at Lynne’s, whatever ingredient you need will be in the pantry or the refrigerator or the freezer. My mother’s kitchen was this way, too. They don’t run out of stuff. Or when they do run out of stuff–presto! A replacement appears from the Mom Stash.
I came home with a couple of albums of Lynne’s photos that I plan to scan–either because I want copies of them or to use in future Legacy Writing entries. This one melts my heart. Jess is nineteen months old here. It’s taken in the kitchen of the house where Lynne grew up. If you were the photographer, you’d be standing next to a high bar that separated the kitchen from the den. I’ve eaten countless meals at that bar, or sat around it talking to Lynne, her sisters, and her mother. The phone’s on the wall at the end of the bar (and yep, I still remember the phone number).
I saw a similar scene countless times in my mother’s kitchen when my siblings began giving her grandbabies. Certain cabinets were kept available for small hands to open so they could drag out pots and pans and bang the lids to their hearts’ content. And just as shown here, a wooden spoon or two would be handed down from above to join the wild rumpus.
It astounds me–I won’t even let the dogs walk through the kitchen when I’m cooking without ordering them out. Guess that’s one more reason I don’t have “Mom Kitchen.”
I believe my nephew Josh came into the world performing. He loved being the center of attention and could talk a blue streak to keep our focus on him. He also loved money, so occasionally we’d say, “Josh, if you can be quiet for five minutes, you’ll get five bucks.” He never lasted that long.
