I found it!

Like the best weekends, this one has been centered almost entirely around food. The church pictured above? A restaurant.

I have to admit that on Friday night when Dan told me we were going to eat dinner at a place a) called Holy Grail and b) inside a former church, I was skeptical to say the least. My apologies in advance for the offensive nature of this next statement (and of this entire entry) but, with the exception of very few sweet little ones, I don't like churches. All the candle sticks and somber-faced stained glass give me the creeps. Plus, I always feel like I'm trying to "pass" the whole time I'm in there. I'm always a second behind in all the standing, kneeling and peace be with youing . As the daughter of parents who chose each other over their religions, I was taught God, not church.

But I think my sorry soul has finally been saved. I worship at the altar of the Holy Grail Irish pub (specifically the Irish Nacho; thick sliced potatoes fried and topped with corn beef, cheese and scallions and served with a horse radish sour cream). Despite its external churchiness, inside, the place was a hoot. Still very much a former church with its high ceilings and stained glass windows in tact, it now has a giant bar in the middle of it. (It is right to give this thanks and praise.) It was actually built very cleverly with pew-like booths and a grand stairway leading to the balcony (which Dan advised me was more the stuff of restaurant safety regulations than a feature of the original church.) It also had a a huge mural of an Irish village painted on the concave wall above where the altar would have been back in the late 1800's when the church was built. It was all just so neat. I've been to a lot of Irish pubs and this is the only one to which I would willingly return.

Dan questioned the restaurant's theme, citing the English connotations of the search for the Holy Grail---you know, all the Spamalot stuff---and it being an Irish pub. A little googling told me that some believe the Holy Grail's mythology has Irish roots but this doesn't explain the note on the menu which read, "Ask about being a knight at the round table!"

None of it mattered to me as I downed a glass of red wine (the body of Christ) and an Irish (French) dip (the body of Buddha).

I don't think it's the last supper we'll ever be having there.

Then yesterday, we headed out to a Farmer's Market where we bought some fresh salad greens, tomatoes, radishes, spinach, scallions and strawberries as well a pound of grass-fed ground beef from a local farm. This, before heading to a chowder festival at Prescott Park in Portsmouth where I gorged on so much creamy-broth concoctions that it may be off the menu for the rest of the summer. (Alternative ending: I gorged on so may creamy-broth concoctions that it felt like high school all over again.) It should be noted that even though our personal chowder favorite, that of Bob's Clam Hut in Kittery, didn't get the popular vote of the masses, it was voted number one by the judges, leaving Dan and me feeling justifiably superior to everyone there.

Then we napped ('cause what else do you do after 89 bowls of chowder?) Plus, a bout of insomnia had me up from 3:30 to 6:30 the night before so by the time 2pm rolled around I was getting loopy. After catching some zzz's we headed out to my sister Bec's house which is 45 minutes west of us to have dinner with her family (minus teenagers) and my parents, sister and nephew who are up for the weekend for Molly's dance recital. We ate hot dogs (turkey dogs, nitrate-free, holla atcha Bec!), hamburgers (buffalo ones were also featured), corn on the cob, thick cuts of tomato and mozzarella layered with shreds of just-picked basil, a tossed green salad sprinkled with Gorgonzola, and potato salad. For dessert I made up some individual strawberry shortcakes using the strawberries I bought at the Farmers' Market, homemade whip cream and some fresh-baked biscuits from the store. Bec put out a platter of s'more fixings and we all had those (yes, in addition to the strawberry shortcakes) while around a fire which brother-in-law Jeff had built in the backyard fire pit.

Dan and I ended up heading out early because his allergies were out of control by then but there was something special about driving away, seeing my family huddled around a fire in the darkness of a summer night.

I forgot that summer can feel like this.

When I saw GiG yesterday, I was relieved to find her looking fantastic and healthy despite having had radiation and her first round of chemo in a month just the day before. Upon greeting me she said, "I was swimming in the pool and it felt great and I don't even have cancer today!"

Indeed, for the weekend, we are all cancer-free.

Today's agenda:

Stop eating crap
1pm: the nugget's dance recital
5pm: accomplish everything I was supposed to have done this entire weekend but never got to
6pm: relax for the night

Welcome summer.