I had lofty plans about both this weekend. I am on Spring Break this week, which meant last weekend marked a blissful studying and grading break. James has been traveling fairly frequently and went out of town again today, so we planned on spending the whole weekend exploring our city together. Instead, Saturday became a succession of sleep and gluttony. We got up at 4am Saturday morning to take our visitors from last week to the airport in Baltimore, tumbling back into bed around 5:30. Around noon we woke up for the second time to meet our friends at Ambar to celebrate a birthday over brunch, fully intending to do many great things that afternoon. Art museums! Cleaning out of closets! Bowling! Bike rides! Running! Tracking down that illusive renegade pretzel stand on 15th St! On Saturday, we were going to do it all.
And then we were brought low by the cunning temptress that is bottomless brunch.
Notice how there are only two pictures from our entire weekend, versus the normal onslaught I throw at you? IT IS BRUNCH’S FAULT. Notice how this post has absolutely no transcendent quality or abstraction about love or life or anything meaningful? IT IS BECAUSE I AM STILL RECOVERING FROM BRUNCH. Eggs benedict, waffle with roasted pear compote, mushroom crêpes, sourdough donuts with Nutella spread, peach mimosas, and steak and eggs ordered so many times that finally we asked them to hold the eggs and fries and just bring a pile of steak. Does any non-starving human need that much food? Obviously not. And would it quite possibly kill a previously starving human by exploding their stomach with carbs? Most likely. Did we barely make it home before collapsing into bed for the third time that day? Obviously yes. And was it so incredibly and wonderfully worth it? Undoubtedly so.
A walk happened that afternoon, and a games with friends later, and we did finally make it to the National Gallery to see an exhibit 45 minutes before closing on Sunday. I’m pretty sure things happened this weekend… but brunch has eclipsed them. And I am totally fine with that.
The Art in Life 
Where is this bottomless brunch place you speak of?? I must know!
Ambar on 8th st!!!! Sooooooooo worth you trekking into the city!
You are hilarious! Thank you for sharing your weekend!
Ah thanks girl! Thanks for reading!
Oh how I miss brunches in DC. There is nothing like it, stumbling home for a nap in a mimosa-coma.
DC does brunch so well. You are in CO right? They just don’t get brunch because everyone things Saturday is for extreme outdoor adventures.
Sounds wonderful!
This sounds absolutely amazing.
I have the perfect location here in Boise for brunch if you ever make it this way. We’d stuff ourselves with the best bacon you’ll ever have in your life. If bacon isn’t your jam- there’s a ton of other food that would tickle your fancy. And… it’s bottomless.
Wait — if bacon isn’t my jam??? What do you think I am — a savage with no taste? Obviously, bacon is my jam. I should probably just make a brunch pilgrimage from coast to coast.
Pingback: In Which I Try to Find Deeper Meaning | Read Robyn
WAAAY late to this party, but AMBAR HAS BOTTOMLESS BRUNCH?! I went there for dinner last year and LOVED it, and this brunch situation NEEDS to be investigated. Must notify my sister!
IT WILL PROBABLY CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Or at least force you into some elastic pants.
Pingback: When you come to DC | The Art in Life
Pingback: We should do this. | The Art in Life
Pingback: 5 for Friday. | The Art in Life