First and not-as-foremost, I cannot get over brunch. Weekends are for brunch, and brunch is my meal. I declare it. I met up with my book club friends for brunch at Communal on Saturday. I also left all of my inhibitions in my unmade bed and ordered french toast with apple-grape coulis and other-worldly honey butter. You guys, that honey butter. Let's all commit to brunching a little bit more. Yes? Okay then.
Second and foremost, book club. I feel so lucky to know these ladies who don't mind lingering longer to talk about books, plans, mothers-in-law, the demise of blogging, hard life things, and even some unsavory life things (things that reduce us all to giggles). I feel lucky to know women who are real and brave. If I could grow up to be anything, I would be real and brave. Wouldn't you?
This is all to say that on Saturday afternoon, when I was feeling full of bread and courage to be more, (and spring decided to come, just for a few hours), I felt so content. Contentedness, I think, may feel better than even happiness.
Here's to that. And to honey butter of course.