I was sad to watch the last Thanksgiving leftovers disappear from our fridge. There’s something comforting about a jar of sweet pickles, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a plate of turkey covered in plastic or foil. But that’s where we’re at.

“Let’s have pancakes in the morning,” Martin suggested.

I am not one to say no to pancakes. Ever. They’ve been a Saturday morning tradition in my family for generations, so I always feel this nostalgic tug for a buttery cake off the griddle. I think that every member of my family has his or her own version. It’s part of how we identify ourselves like our family name, each signing it with different flair here and there.

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Now that we’ve got a fridge in the hangar loft we’re building, I told Martin, “We need to fill it with summer!” Insert ice cream bars in the freezer, lots of ice, a bit of watermelon to snack on, and our newest favorite summer beverage:

A couple of months ago, I was completely indifferent about ice. Living in Europe will do that to a girl. I once had a few ice cubes in a restaurant drink over there. Yeah only once.

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My grandfather would have turned 99 years old on Christmas morning. One of his greatest legacies in our family came every Christmas Eve when he made a hot, spiked batch of Tom and Jerrys for everyone. I have no idea how this drink became so iconic in our family. (It is a very popular Christmas cocktail in the US that could best described as a hot, spiked eggnog.)

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