Burst of Color

I'd like to say that there's nothing so bad that brunch with my girls can't cure, but it's not quite true.

It's almost true, though.

I had a great day today, even though I had bouts of grumpyness and frustration, even though the wind nearly blew us into another county, even though I haven't ridden either bicycle in two days and am uncertain about the future of these knees for tomorrow. Okay, wait I'd better not start talking about that - it will send me into a downspin.

So, leaving that aside for the moment. Brunch. Happy happy brunch. My favorite omelette: egg whites, spinach, scallions, made perfectly at a certain place where once there was a very cute French boy who hit upon me by remarking, after I'd given him a Ginger Altoid, that it was very sexual. He meant sensual, of course. By which he meant to imply sexual. It was a whole delicious curly-headed incident, witnessed by Miz Fury, my mom, and my sister. I turned absolutely bright red and wanted to take him there, on the table.

Oh dear.

Where was I?

Oh yes, brunch. No French boys today; they are a rare and timid species, the pretty curly-headed French boys. They only make their appearance on the first springlike day. They pop their sweet flirtatious little heads out, suck your Ginger Altoid, pick up their handsome tips, and then sashay their lithe little behinds away for the rest of the year. No doubt to Paris, or Provence, where it might be warmer than it is here.

But the omelettes are still damn good. And then we did some errands and wandering, and making of silly dirty jokes (which are our forte), and we went and drank grog (arrr, why is all the rum gone?), and knitted, and talked about the difficulty of getting a straight answer from a straight man. And I rolled my eyes a lot, and fixed a couple of stitch mistakes for Special J, which made me feel useful and magical.

And we went yarn shopping. And I picked up two different kinds of crack - I mean Malabrigo - for gift knitting. Glorious purple Silky Merino for mom, and burgundy Chunky Merino for one of the bike boys (not that one, a different, though equally handsome one). The burgundy is much less orange than it looks in the photo - it's a nice dark brick red.

Lord, is there anything that yummy yarn and dear friends can't fix? No, there really, really isn't.