We had a great time making noodles a while back. Kevin was kind enough to load my few photos on his computer this morning. Whenever I begin the process of making a well in a mound of flour and cracking the eggs in it, I think of my grandmother, who taught me how to make noodles. I can still remember the day she taught me. We lived in Oregon. There were no children in our lives. The kitchen wallpaper, which we struggled to hang, had blue and yellow flowers all over it. My 85 year old grandmother leaned over the table giving directions as she demonstrated. Everything was "a bit of this' or a "handful of that." I couldn't help but think of her as I watched Evelyn roll the dough (and ate bits of it.) Not too long ago Jesse stood on a stool doing the same thing . Time blurred.