Nathan has finally determined that he doesn't miss the farmer's market anymore. I do. H.EB. (Howard E. Butt wisely decided to use his initials as the name of his grocery chain) is a wonderful store, with high quality private label brands that rival Trader Joes, terrific gourmet cooking demonstrations, and best of all, a vast variety of delightful toddler carts. But it pains me to give up my policy of never paying more than $1/lb. for produce, special splurges excluded. Produce prices are approximately the same out here as in California... but we were spoiled having a farmer's market just down the street.

Nathan was missing "the old house," though. The new one is a whole lot nicer--"Like Christmas and Santa and presents and Easter" was the way my little poet of a son put it a few days after we moved in--but now the bittersweet flavor of leaving is starting to sink in, as he tries to get his mind around where we are, and where we've come from.

"The old Texas is in California."

Most of all, he though, he misses "the old church." And we can all agree about that.

Dear Blessed Sacrament, we love you and miss you very much.

In the morning we will visit yet another church.

In the mean time, Nathan is working on another plan.

He's going to build a car out of books and learn how to drive, so he can drive us back to California.

1 comment:

Ashley said...

B-sac misses you too. Keep working on that car, Nathan!