Joe with all of the children at the National Zoo in Washington, DC.
And finally, the Father's Day tradition is to make mini pies (4 1/2 inch pies in "tart" or "pot pie" tins). These are given to a few of the neighbors who are widowers. And some are donated to church to be distributed to the fathers in church.
However, this year, only store-bought pies were picked at church. So, despite the fact that I made pies after everyone was in bed last night, and, despite the fact that I could hardly walk or stand, I made pies last night. No one in church took my pie, so I brought it home to Joe (who stayed home to take care of sick Spenser). Joe appreciated it, as did one of my neighbors (the others will be delivered when they are home later today).
So ... at least someone appreciated my efforts.
When I was on bedrest, my thoughts too often turned to the Father's Day pies. Who will make the pies if I'm still on bedrest? Will my neighbors miss the tradition? Like I didn't have enough to worry about ...