Today is cloudy and cold. I should know not to expect anything different. It is winter, seemingly an endless winter. After the dogs go out, I stand at the back door watching for them. I can feel the cold coming through the dog door. I’d shut the back door, but Nala would ring the poochie bells over and over for me to open the door. She’d do that until I left the door open. I give in to her so I don’t have to keep jumping up and down. She knows that.

When I was a kid, Italian and Chinese were, to us, ethnic foods, a little exotic. We ordered Chinese from The China Moon or as we always called it The Moon. We didn’t eat there. My father ordered take-out. We usually had fried rice, maybe a beef dish and a couple of appetizers. My parents sometimes ordered a lobster dish. It wasn’t offered to us. My father said it wasn’t for kids as if that were a rule. We believed him. We had Italian food at Kitty’s. It is in the next town over from where I grew up. It was always filled with diners and was loud. The waitresses, many of whom were older, could carry trays lined up on their arms. I was awed. I remember we sometimes went there during my father’s vacations, the ones when we stayed home and did stuff every day. It was a treat to go out to eat. I never ordered spaghetti. We had spaghetti at home. I ordered chicken or sausage parm or cacciatore. The waitress always delivered the freshest Italian bread for the table. I loved to sop up the sauce.

Kitty’s is still there, but it has been years since I last ate there. When I did, it looked and sounded exactly the same. Even the parking lot was filled. I didn’t order spaghetti, in keeping with tradition, but I ordered some sort of pasta. When I was an adult, we often ordered take out from the Moon, but we also ate in the restaurant. They had a great buffet one day a week. When I visited my mother, it was where I wanted to have lunch especially on buffet day.

The China Moon was around almost longer than I had been alive. We expected it to be there. I remember it was where we ate before the prom or before a big dance or event. It had been owned by the same family since 1953. The Moon closed in 2020. The land was sold, another piece of my home town gone. It now lives only in my memory drawers.

Yesterday I didn’t post because I had an early concert, the start of another uke week. I have practice and my lesson and three more concerts. We’re playing Motown.

I wish I could stay home cozy and warm, but I’m out of the usual, cream for my coffee and bread. Almost anything else I could do without but not my coffee.

This entry was posted on February 16, 2026 at 12:37 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.