Yummy beyond all reason

The decor of our house these last few weeks has run chiefly to packing boxes, cheap plastic cups, dirty laundry, rafts of old newspapers and packing tape. Wait, I take that back. We never could seem to find the packing tape when we needed it.

Today was the official moving day, though we have been 'moving right along' for ages, it seems. Today we rented a truck and loaded all the huge things like pianos and couches and boxes of books and Megan's trees. It was hot all day, and the boxes were heavy, and things were confused and messy. But nobody broke a nail or dropped anything on their toe and the rain held off until we almost completely unloaded.

I went with the first trip over to the new house- just our van full of breakable stuff. The AC in the house seemed to have temporarily ceased for our benefit. The thermometer said it was 90 degrees inside and 88 outside (in the shade). So we sweated and grunted and moved furniture around and drank tea and apple juice and water and laughed at each other. We even had time to do some heavy-duty lying about before the rest of the Adams' Twelve plus one arrived with the moving truck. All together that would be- nine Adamses, three Murrays, and one Pass.

Kimberly and I spent some beastly hot sessions in the attic stowing nice warm things like winter coats and sleeping bags and area rugs. If it was 88 outside and 90, the attic must have been a 'cool' 100.

Thankfully, some relief came in the form of ominous dark clouds and rumblings among them. It started raining just as we finished up and headed back for the parsonage for dinner. But wait! Dinner deserves a whole blog of its own, or at least a new paragraph and maybe a title....


SOUTERN HOSPITALITY

Yes, my dear Northern folks, it does exist and boy howdy, am I ever glad!
Mrs. Turner, Blake's mother, got a bee in her bonnet a week or so ago, that we needed someone to cook for us on moving day and that she was the one to do it. She is past the age of cooking huge platters of fried chicken and mashed potatoes for 15 people, so she offered us (in detailed typed letter) the choice of pizza,
Chik-Fil-A, KFC, or some such fast food place. What a sweetheart! We chose pizza from Papa John's.

Like a general, she marshalled facts and supplies for the troops; she questioned us closely about date, time, place, toppings, etc. Most people would have been content to call the pizza place an hour or two ahead of time and tell them our address. Not she! Around 11 a.m. she called me from Papa John's to confirm topping choices, and well before the appointed hour (6 pm) she arrived on the doorstep with everything else besides the pizzas, which were to be delivered, and the kitchen sink. We were utterly overwhelmed. Here is the list:

Seven Papa John's pizzas,
two platters:
one veggie ( tomatoes, celery, summer squash, cucumbers, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and dip),
and one fruit (watermelon, cantelope, stawberries, honeydew melon, oranges, pinapple, and red and green grapes)
three gallons of tea (2 sweetened and 1 unsweetened),
two gallons of lemonade,
four liters of Coke,
and two bags of ice in a cooler.
Paper plates and plasticware, napkins, paper towels, paper table cloths, plastic cups,
two trash bags (with twisties to close them),
toothpicks,
and two small, cheerful flower arrangements,
oh yes, and 24 ice cream bars.

toothpicks, my friends!
and flowers!!!
why didn't she peel the grapes, I'd like to know?!!?

Thus the legendary Southern hospitality lives on... and we will certainly be living on the leftovers for days!

Or as Daniel so aptly said- "This is yummy beyond all reason!"