nonno and lala (lyn)

It’s early December and it feels like spring.  Karen and I go walking this morning jacket-less.  We see runners in short sleeves and shorts. My legs are not good enough for shorts-in-winter.  I much prefer the cold.

By lunchtime it’s still nice, and restaurants with outdoor seating are full.  But by the time Jill and I leave our afternoon screening of a tedious movie based on an unproduced Tennessee Williams screenplay (we should have known better), winter is returning.  The wind has picked up and the temperature has dropped.  Much better, I think.

Tonight I am eating in alone. 

One night a week Alexander has dinner and sleeps at his grandparent’s home (Eric’s parents).  They also live in the city, albeit on the west side. Nonno (Alexander’s grandfather) is originally from Capri, and is the quintessential Italian… warm, expressive, charming, and a great cook.  When Alexander was just learning how to speak and couldn’t say his S’s, he would still express his love for nonno’s “pahta oop” (i.e. pasta soup).

Alexander’s grandmother is called lala (as her mother was called by Eric and his sister).   Lala is also a very good cook, but perhaps more importantly, she is health conscious.   Lala doesn’t need WW to know how many calories are in everything we eat, or what percentage is from fat, or what is bad for cholesterol levels; she just knows.  She probably also knows what country the food originates from and if there are any labor issues associated with getting the food from its host country to U.S. tables.

So when Alexander spends the night with his grandparents (as he is tonight), I know he is eating a well-cooked healthy meal, is in the hands of people who adore him, and will be going to bed before midnight, something he never does at home.