Still getting into the swing of things and dealing with “new baby syndrome,” my life is slowly starting to find some order. There has been an appreciated outpouring of love in the form of gifts of onesies (for baby Henry), a bottle or two of liquor (presumably for me), as well as diapers and baby wipes (for humanity). I expected some of our wonderful friends to pitch in and donate to the efforts of furthering a newly appointed human in his quest for longevity, but what I wasn’t expecting was all of the food.

Breakfast casseroles from Priscilla Belle Jenkins, dinner from Snake and Company, chicken and veggies from the All Saints Caring Committee and plenty more I’m leaving out. The one dinner that stood out in my fading memory of last week was Frank Trice’s famous postpartum baby lasagna. Frank gets pretty legit when he throws one the apron, and I’m told Ashley engineered the béchamel sauce; the whole affair was good enough (and large enough) to have us eating lasagna at inappropriate times. Like breakfast. Midnight snack.