Where’s The Butter?

The other day, Little S was listing the relatively few things Luke still had yet to do on the house. “…Build the stairs, build the walls, do a little more electric, a little more plumbing. Oh, and build the other house,” he says. That should give you some indication that, combined with his day job, he’s been pretty busy lately. So it is really special when he can take a day off from all his responsibilities and spend time with the family.
Yesterday we got to go down to Roscoe Village in Coshocton, to the Apple Butter Stirrin’ Festival. I had visions of period dressed women surrounding a homey big black pot with apples in their cinnamony sweetness boiling, and us getting to watch and sniff. Well, my first clue this wasn’t to be was the trailer at the entrance with a “Funnel Cakes” sign on it. Oh, well- it was more of an arts and crafts festival, with a couple of tents offering jars of homemade apple butter, produced in Bucyrus, OH. We did find some treasures- Little S got a wooden pirate sword that I now get to sanction. I got a beeswax candle in the shape of a turkey. I wanted the brown one, thought it was a neat color. But Luke wanted the traditional yellow one. The only one of those left was one the man had just made and was still cooling on the rack. He let us have it and we did our best not to knock it around the rest of our trip. “Here, let me take the bird while you go get your coffee.” “I can’t carry the bird and push the stroller.” Yikes, more difficult than a newborn. 🙂 I’m already planning our Thanksgiving display with the bird taking center stage. I picked up some apple butter, even if it was made closer to us than we bought it. In the same store they had Webkinz, and A Major bought her third pet to reactivate her online gaming. It is a leopard named Mara Grace.
Instead of packing the usual dinner-in-a-cooler, we planned to go out to a restaurant afterward, a big deal (as anything done with nine people would be), and I was hoping for a Mexican place. I told Luke that after some thought on the subject, I decided I would rather be stared at by people in an actual Mexican restaurant, rather than by people at Taco Bell. So we hunted for a place in Mt. Vernon that fit the bill. Fiesta Mexicana was the first we stopped at- very busy, very loud, and the host wasn’t even sure how long the wait would be. So, we kept driving. We happened upon a second place, La Paloma, on the corner of a building downtown. I went in to look around, and immediately noticed the quiet (no music!) and other children in the restaurant. Points! We got seated and settled, and looked at the menus, The girl informed us that there were only two sides of rice left, explaining that they were a little busier than usual. I wondered if that was because we were there. We got tacos for the kids, I had an enchilada combo, and Luke had a smothered burrito, and we both got rice. Points! The dinner passed with very little incident, and the wait staff all commented on how well-behaved the children were. Points! Eventually there was music playing, and I heard Chris Tomlin. That coupled with the waitress talking about homeschooling her kids made me think the people here might have Mount Vernon Nazarene University connections. In all, it gave me a good feeling about our restaurant choice, and I would recommend their establishment to anyone going through Mt. Vernon. Friendly folk, good food.
A Minor had had it long before, while we were still at Roscoe Village, so she was definitely done now. The whole ride home she cried, asking for A Major to sing to her, something A does every night at bedtime. Since we had a cd playing of Betsy Hernandez singing lullabies, we told A Minor that this was A singing to her. She didn’t buy it. Toward the end, A Minor moans, “I rewy rewy rewy rewy rewy (really, she said ‘rewy’ a bunch of times, it was so funny) need to go to the bafroom, and I can’t stop crying!!!!” We all couldn’t help laughing. A phone call to Grandma had the front door open for our arrival and A’s speedy trip to the bafroom. Then on to bed. Good times.

2 Replies to “Where’s The Butter?”

  1. 🙂 At first, I thought A minor was the BABY! So When I saw that she was talking, I started calculating how old she was and laughed when I remembered A flat is the baby. Or am I still confused? 🙂 That is so sweet that A Major sings to her every night. Daddy and I have to do the bedtime singing. Usually I enjoy it, but it would be sweet to have a little singer wanting the job. Yeah for the well behaved children in the restaurant! 🙂

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