Lunchtime, y'all.

I love lunch. I love "doing" lunch, making lunch, prolonging lunch, enjoying lunch, chatting over lunch, cleaning up from lunch, planning lunch, inviting people over for lunch, laughing over lunch, meeting for lunch, all things lunch.

My lunch-love is deep-seated. Grandma Susie was a big luncher. She prepared the best, best, best lunches. She made sure that when she did have to eat without Grandpa, he had a fantastic lunch with a big sandwich, chips, fruit and homemade cookies. Her sandwiches were stellar. She used the very best bread, fresh and bright lettuce, juicy beefsteak tomatoes, deli meat (never in a plastic box), Tillamook cheese and French's mustard. She cut them in half lengthwise, never diagonal. She always wrapped them in wax paper and sent them in the truck in a brrown paper bag. I remember that when Grandpa worked in the heat, he took them in a lunchbox, but the heat is infrequent in Port Angeles.

When Nina and I were over, we'd always have something light and ladylike, and we sat at the table and chatted for ages. "All things in moderation," she'd say, which meant, "Eat whatever you want, but not too much."

In the summers we'd take our lunch outside to the picnic table, usually cheese and crackers with cottage cheese, grapes, apples or pears. Grandma was a big cheese and crackers fan. She always had the same cheese, the same crackers, the same cottage cheese. I loved being with Grandma and Grandpa because it was one part of my life that was completely constant, even down to the cheese. Now that she's gone, I know Grandpa is still buying the same cheese, the same crackers, the same cottage cheese. Comfort food is what gets us through.

When this weather breaks, the first thing I want to buy is a picnic table. I can't wait to show the girls how to live life outdoors, like Grandma and Grandpa taught me. A romance with the outdoors is romance that never dies, and gets more passionate with age. The anticipation of spending our fall, winter and spring outside on our sweet piece of land makes this summer seem to stretch so much longer. I need the heat to break, because I need to open these windows and let these girls run. I need to spent the day outside on a blanket and finish a book while my Smallest of the Small Ones eats leaves next to me. I need to see bare feet again, and feel a cool breeze. I need to see the girls building their "house" in the trees. I need to strip the baby down to her diaper and let her roll around on the grass. I need to see dirty feet climbing into bed at night, too tired to even take a bath. I need to hear Grandma tell me, "This too shall pass." This summer may break me yet, waiting to feel that cool breeze again.

How this post went from sandwiches to moaning about the heat, I have no idea. All I know is that my sandwich is fantastic, the heat is killing me, and I'd give my right arm for one more lunch with Grandma Susie.