Monday Meatballs


Thom was gone for the weekend, off on his first solo journey (with friends only, no shepherding adults) to a far-off music festival. It was a big deal event down at Coachella, in the desert east of Los Angeles. The New York Times took note (of the music, not Thom’s attendance); so did NPR. For Kate and me, the biggest deal was that Thom was off on his own on a trip that required two late-night drives — late Friday into early Saturday to get down there (it’s about a 500-mile trip), and late Sunday into early Monday to get back (Thom’s friends dropped him off in downtown Berkeley so that he could go straight to school to take a test). It reminds me of Eamon and his friends driving off late on stormy night to cross the Sierra on their way to see the Winter Olympics in Utah. The thrill of the road trip.

Anyway, he made it there and back, and had a great time that he talked about all afternoon and evening, when he wasn’t napping, and when we didn’t have "24" on the tube. To celebrate, Kate made spaghetti and meatballs (despite my a little too up-close-and-personal portrait of the meatballs, they were extra-tasty).

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