Summer Solstice

The summer solstice holds special meaning for me. This all started during the Alaska years. (Backstory: my family lived in Anchorage from when I was 15-20.) The year before Dave and I married I even took him to Alaska with me, so he could experience the magic of the longest day of the year. We had dinner that night at Anchorage's famed Simon and Seafort's restaurant. Dave fondly recalls the King Crab legs he ordered, which extended six inches off both sides of the platter they were served on, and John Elway, dining at the next table.

Last year we spent June 21 in Paris in an apartment overlooking the Seine. When we came in from dinner around midnight, the streets were filled with celebratory festivities. I woke up about 4am and discovered the party still going on just as strong. The next morning we learned that in major cities throughout Europe, the summer solstice calls for a serious fete.

Tonight was a little less cosmopolitan although quite fun in its own right -- we had our neighbors and their adorable children for dinner, and enjoyed some "it's the Mojitos" moments. Sadly, when cleaning up the kitchen tonight, I discovered the uneaten strawberry pie that they'd brought for dessert. We forgot all about it! We may eat it for breakfast ...