Mom is making humpke soup, a recipe my father learned when we lived in Belgium that became a family favorite. I haven't had it since well before he died. We made apple-cinnamon muffins for a brunch tomorrow, so the whole house smells like goodness and sunshine. John and Martin are rasslin' in the playroom, Karin is using Anders as a jungle gym. Mom is resting now, reading my friend Chuck's book, she's been chuckling to herself several times already. I'm halfway through Donna Tartt's The Little Friend.
We've got company coming for dinner, an easy meal: soup, salad, bread to dunk. Hopefully an evening walk in the late sunshine although my foot's been paining me today. The house is resounding with laughter and conversation. My cold seems to be finally done.