Its always interesting to me to see how the definition of fun evolves as we get older. Four years ago, fun would have included multiple hammer-drunk nights in succession, followed by a bout of bad choices and more fried food than any human needs in a lifetime. T would have cooked, I would have coerced her into buying expensive clothes she didn't need but looked good in, and we would have spent too much time talking to strangers. We slept late and ignored the life that was happening outside of our bubble of somewhat-controlled insanity.
Now the fun is quieter and a little bit easier on our livers. A night out ends at 2 AM, not 6. There's more dancing and reminiscing, less chatting up strangers. More delicious food than over-served booze. There's still all the eating, but now an inexplicable want of vegetables that our younger years lacked. The men in our life stay around (occasionally to our chagrin). Money is spent smartly rather than delightfully impractically. Life can no longer stop for a visit, rather it is readjusted to allow for as much time as possible spent in remembrance of a life free of responsibilities.
Despite all that. Sunday breakfast still occasionally happens at 12, and it still, sometimes, looks like this:
Brunch at The Southern. Complete with a free tasting of Bourbon & v. necessary coffee.They taste better when mixed, imho.
I'm convinced that if I hadn't been there with you I'd be institutionalized already. Thank you for the funnest worst week of my life I could have ever asked for.
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