As I was leaving my cousins’ on Sunday, Di said, “I hope this makes the blog!” Are you kidding? Serve me heaven in a grape leaf and not make the blog? Impossible. For the record, there were 99 of those little guys to start with, and shockingly there were leftovers.

Adults chatted and drank wine in the kitchen, while legos were constructed in the dining room and Mr. I-Just-Turned-Seven good-naturedly beat up anyone who walked through.

We feasted (no pictures because I was too busy breaking the fast a week early). After the table had been cleared of lamb, dolmades, Greek salad, rolls, potatoes, and vegetables baked in a heavenly broth, Diane asked, “how soon do we want dessert? Because I need to know when to take the ice cream cake out to thaw.” We decided to take it out in ten minutes, then it would take a while longer to thaw, then we’d be ready for dessert. But, Di went ahead and got out the baklava and the macaroons. You can imagine what happened next.

A side story about the ice cream cake (correct me if I mess this up, Di): the East Coast Cousins were in town a week or two ago on a business trip. It was Tony’s birthday, so Di wanted to celebrate. “Chocolate cake is his favorite,” said Chris. So Di whips up a chocolate cake and presents it to Tony on the big day. “I made your favorite!” Tony’s face falls. “Actually, ice cream cake is my favorite.” Now, I wasn’t there for this part, but I can just see the expression on Chris’ face as he says gleefully, “No, it’s MY favorite!” So, of course, as soon as Tony’s gone, what do we have? Ice cream cake. Coincidence?

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