Traditions

We went to our favorite sausage shop in Detroit. It has been a family tradition to get our sausage for Easter and Christmas from Markevich European Meats on Michigan Ave since before I was born. The proprietor's wife was into sport fishing and everything she caught was mounted on the walls (Sharks, swordfish etc,) so I grew up going to this obscure little shop with it's white tile walls, stuffed fish and the delicious strong smells of smoked meats, garlic and long lines of people clutching their white butcher shop paper wrapped packages as they left. The feeling is almost like the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld. You bring only cash, you never ask what anything costs and you know what to order when you get to the front of the line. This place has not changed since I was a kid and hopefully never will. I have a reputation for being a strong and assertive person, until I get to Markevich's shop. Without fail I always get yelled at due to my children touching the merchandise. I quietly cower with my cash in my hand and hope she (the eldest Markevich) doesn't single me out. Last year while at the counter I looked back to ask my son a question and she poked me with a pencil on my hand and asked "What do you want?" This time went fine and the boys were on their best behavior. I got the goods and left. I brought my camera to take a picture for the boys to look back at when they take their kids to get the sausage. Three generations (my mom, mother-in-law, me and my boys) and the thirty old fish on the wall.

We went onto the Rouge Factory Tour at the Henry Ford. The kids loved seeing how trucks are assembled.

I'm tired and ready for a nice quiet night.