I'll be the first to admit that sometimes, I forget to call my parents.  I see I have a missed call from my mom, register it, think, 'oh, I'll call her back when I'm done running this delivery.'  Next thing I know two days have passed before I remember. 

Jon and I worked a few 14-16 hour days this week.  We worked an awesome sampling/networking event put on by Brooklyn Foodworks tonight, and left deliriously tired.  I stumbled into my apartment a few minutes ago to see a big manilla envelope on the table.  My mom had mentioned that she sent a surprise, so surely this was that.  Inside, I found a couple of Nomad Trading Co. t-shirts for me and Jon.  They're something we had said we wanted, but decided they were a "non-essential expense", so we passed.  Having a few show up in the mail brought an ear to ear smile to my weary face.

My mom regularly does stuff like this.  She sends a card for every holiday.  She tracks the movements of the company.  She comments silly things on my Instagram.  She always cheers me up when I need it.  My dad could not possibly be more supportive.  He's encouraged me to march to the beat of my own rhythm-less  drum since day one. He offers sage wisdom whenever I ask. He pushed me to cycle hard during a recent ride, but still let me beat him.  They're the best.

Jon's parents deserve a shout out too.  Jon can call his mom, tell her we're going to be at his house in a half hour, and somehow she has a three course meal hot and on the table every time we get there.  She gave us a cherry tomato plant, which is currently feeding us.  Jon's dad has provided invaluable legal advice and Knicks historical facts.

To Ellen and Jerrold, Rich and Susan, thank you all for providing us with the love and support that has taken us this far.  To everyone else, if you haven't explicitly thanked your parents recently, consider changing that.