Remember my grand-pup, Penny Lane? I call her the neighborhood Miss Marple. This is her favorite perch, where she stays on top of all of the comings and goings streetside. There is just something about the tilt of her head that feels regal, and that chubby paw pad — irresistible. I hadn’t been in the apartment five minutes before I pulled out my fancy new phone, aka point-n-shoot camera. Penny has that woeful, droopy-eyed look just like all basset hounds, but I promise you, she is an exuberant and joyful girl.
We were in the city to celebrate my son’s job promotion. Much to my maternal dismay five years ago, his life path did not stay on the course I’d always had in mind for him. He informed me that the only motivation he had to be in college was me. Not enough! Cajoling and reasoning were useless. So I wrung my hands, smiled, and encouraged him to follow his passion. He’s chosen to follow in the foodie footsteps of his father, a grandfather, and an uncle. He works hard but loves the business. Much to my amazement, after a thirteen-hour day on his feet, he prepares dinner at home! I feel my proud mama chest puffing right up as I type this.
By the way, he just finished reading the memoir manuscript. First family member to do so. My favorite text message from him said: “Enjoying your teenage exploits and adventures with a cocktail.” His close read gave me valuable feedback on voice and timeline. Talking books is something we’ve always enjoyed together. How fabulous to be discussing this one, not only as writer and reader, but mother and son. Wow! Celebration, indeed.