The Miss My Moms

Even though I left Woonsocket 13 years ago, I still get homesick. I can go two months, and no more, before I get a bad case of what I call the “Miss my moms.”
Since I go to Rhode Island so much during the summer and then go cold turkey until the holidays, I can pretty much pencil “miss mommy” into my schedule for right about now. It’s like clockwork.
And that’s one of the reasons I’m SO excited my parents are coming to visit this weekend. When I was in college on Long Island , they used to visit me, but once I moved here permanently they told me, “You’re the one who left, not us. If you want to see us, you come here.” And they were true to their word. They’ve visited me exactly three times in nine years. But my oldest sister turned 50 this fall, and we decided to plan a weekend here to celebrate, so my parents and Denise are coming for the weekend. I’ve got it all planned out – I’ve got dessert places scoped out for my mother, the Museum of Natural History which my sister and dad will love, tickets to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular (at their request). The only thing left is Saturday night dinner. I keep coming up with, and then rejecting, places. Denise is a country mouse who likes to play at being worldly in New York, so we usually do something exotic. But my parents are suburban senior citizens who don’t eat spicy food. I’m coming up with blanks on something that will satisfy everyone. Anyone have suggestions?
What I’m reading:
I’ve been reading The Education of a Coach, this great biography of Bill Belichick, the Patriots coach. Memoirs and sports biographies are pretty much my sole exception to the I only read fiction rule…