The boys are still sleeping, all seven of them. I feel like it's finally Thanksgiving. On Thursday, we had a lovely dinner with friends, but I didn't cook anything at all until last night when I made pot roast for Velvet and his brothers from Hookah House who had come into the city for a concert. They ate every bit of mashed potatoes they could scrape from the pot, so I gave them saltines to mush up in the broth. They loved it, and I was proud.
I feel a quiet sense of accomplishment watching kids wolf down food I have prepared. It's satisfying from a nurturing, maternal perspective, of course, but I especially enjoy seeing Velvet feel like a king among his peers. After the concert, the guys met Buzz Kill on Amsterdam Avenue for beers, darts and pool. I'm not sure if he bought every single beer, but between me and Buzz Kill, the guys think Velvet is a lucky duck. More importantly, Velvet thinks he's a lucky duck.
Once they wake up, some will head home to the suburbs. Others may stay until Sunday when they all head back to Hookah House. I'm not sure which kids go to Tree Hugger and which go to Big Beautiful Private University - but I can say that they are all polite and well groomed. The president of the Hookahs brought me flowers. They all put their dishes in the sink and rinsed out their beer bottles for recycling.
I will admit to being a bit stunned when they were getting ready to go out because of couple of the boys are not only handsome but also surprisingly ripped. Those young, strong, shirtless men, positively oozing testosterone, can be a bit overwhelming for an old broad, but I'm managing to keep my fleeting fantasies to myself.
If there's one thing I've learned in all my years as a parent, it's that no one should be like Cartman's Mom who wound up on the cover of Crack Whore Magazine. Nobody wants to be Kyle's mom either.
Migas: scrambled eggs with bacon, spinach, cheddar cheese and steamed taco chips wrapped in a whole wheat tortilla. Coffee or Iced Tea.
If anybody passed a bowl around the living room, I wouldn't be mad.
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