This weekend Alamae and I headed out in the still and quiet morning to drive in circles looking for a vintage fair, stopping for breakfast and directions at the most perfect wood paneled breakfast spot, sharing a bit of bar space with two watery eyed, rough edged men, who bowed their heads in thanks before eating plates piled high with scrapple, pancakes, and eggs. And when we finally found said vintage fair, the line deterred us from purchasing an old baby scale and a few bars of handmade soap.
This weekend I stopped with co-workers at a dive bar after our shift, and I reacquainted myself with pleasure of nearly screamed conversations with strangers.
This weekend I sat around with ten women and three babies, eating reimagined leftovers and possibly the world's most perfect cookie bar in honor of a bookless bookclub. Because we needed our lives to make space for our club, even if this go around we couldn't make space for a novel. And I realized that much like my friend Claire, drinking coffee and eating sweets is one of my very favorite things to do with a day.