One of my favorites memories of my grandparents has to do with Sunday. When we lived back on the East Coast (or visited during the summers), we'd go to church every Sunday. When we got back home, there would be some time to change clothes and maybe play, before it was time for Sunday dinner. We'd have what *we* called Sunday potatoes (aka scalloped potatoes or funeral potatotes), cinnamon rolls, roast beef, and some vegetable. Just thinking about it brings back the smells of the food, the sounds of children running around, and visions of my grandparents' house. Boy, life has changed since then. My grandparents no longer live in the house my grandfather built after his retirement, my grandfather has passed away, and my grandmother no longer cooks for a horde of folks come Sunday afternoon.