Who, who let the dogs in?

It was Thanksgiving, 2019. I went to Napa for the day, to see son Evan, his wife Erin, their two kids, and Erin's huge extended family, most of them born and raised in Napa. They are terrific people!

Based on my memories, my mom's parents were a bit weird. They liked the desert, liked dried fruit, didn't like the beach. My mom was a far cry from that description.

My dad's mom was wonderful! He and his brothers (total of 4 brothers and 1 sister), supported Grandma Willson financially, and she lived in an apartment in Santa Monica, where those kids grew up.

We got together at the beach, either at the San Onofre Surfing Club in San Clemente or at the beach house in Newport, that Uncle Ted and his family owned.  Once at the beach all the kids had either beach rafts/mats or surfboards. Usually, there were 9 of us kids, more if it was a reunion. (The Ted Willsons called 'home" a mansion in Piedmont, in the middle of Oakland.) 

But I digress.

Back to Thanksgiving, 2019. I volunteered to bring pies and rolls. No, I do NOT make/bake my own pies. I buy them at Nation's (a local burger place) that is open throughout the day and evening. I order 4 pies about a week ahead of time. 

Knowing that Stevie, one of the family member's pet dog (a yellow lab?) had a nose for all things delicious, the pies were put into the garage, in the boxes and in the bags that they came in. By the time we were ready for dessert, Stevie had figured out how to get into the garage and chomped down two + pies.

In answer to the first question that I started this post with, Stevie, the dog, let himself into the garage.

Live richly, marilyn



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