The Brookston Family Blog
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We got a shelf for the downstairs guest bathroom a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t gotten around to putting it together until recently. Porter was very excited to help with it and actually wanted to do the hammering, but I let him help with the screws instead.

Porter screws in the shelf, while Alice watches from the wings.

Porter using the Allen wrench

Immediately upon completion, Alice climbed onto the shelf.

Those of you who know me also know my great love of potato chips. I’m very particular about my chips — some might say anal — and only certain brands and types (no flavored chips, for example) are acceptable to me. Where I grew up in Pennsylvania it was not uncommon for there to be a dozen or more local, brands on the grocery store shelves, and each one had their own specific taste profile. That meant, at least to a potato chip geek like me, that you could pair different chips with different foods. For example, Tommy Dales (now out of business, sadly) went perfectly with a V&S Cheesesteak whereas Groff’s paired nicely with glazed donuts and Uncle Don’s were thick and crunchy, making them excellent with a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. For everyday chips, it had to be Good’s in the Blue Can (or bag), not the red. So clearly, I’m in need of therapy, I know. Here in California there are only a few chips I can eat, which is tough on me, but c’est la vie. This is my home now so I persevere. Plus I can order Good’s in the Blue over the internet, which is great, but also a little weird since they were made by Mennonite farmers by hand on an actual farm. Believe it or not, I’ve actually visited the farm. I’m that much of a potato chip geek. It was a kind of pilgrimage to go there. But now the grandson has taken over and they’re made in a small facility nearby. To his credit, he hasn’t monkeyed with the formula and they’re every bit as good as they used to be. I miss the reusable metal cans, but I also understand how impractical they are nowadays.

Here’s me ecstatic to be at the Good’s Potato Chip Farm.

So anyway, there’s a cheeseteak place in downtown San Rafael. The cheesesteaks aren’t particularly authentic, but they’re quite tasty in their own right. And they deliver, which is huge bonus points in my book. But they make awesome homemade potato chips (and great French fries, for that matter). So I order from them whenever I can talk Sarah into it, maybe once a month or so. The other day I warmed up in the oven the remains of a bag of homemade chips from a day or two before to have with my lunch. Porter pulled out one of the chips and said “this chip has a heart, Daddy.” And then he gave it to me, saying. “I love you Daddy.” Now that was a nice moment. And sure enough, the potato chip had a hole in it in the shape of a heart.

The heart potato chip.

I couldn’t bear to eat it so it’s sitting on our kitchen counter. Of course, I don’t know what else to do with it. If you do an eBay search for potato chips — and yes I do every now and then — you’ll be surprised to find individual potato chips for sale with a cross in them or the image of Jesus on them. It’s pretty funny, actually. I have no idea who buys them. I’m a fairly huge fan of potato chips but I would never pay money for a single chip, no matter what shape it was. So who knows. What do you think should be done with the heart chip?

Last weekend both Alice and Porter, and for that matter Sarah, too, felt pretty crappy both days. We spend Saturday and Sunday at home lounging around. Both kids just wanted to lie on the sofa and watch TV. They didn’t really want to eat or run around, which is very unusual. And both were a little feverish from time to time which was no doubt contributing to their lethargy.

Sarah snuggles with the sickies, Porter and Alice, as they watch television.

Sarah smiles.