Hey y’all, how’s your week going?

Over here things are resuming their typical, stressful early semester feel. I have spent most of the last two weeks trying to navigate complicated computer systems that supposedly will make the education world easier but are currently making me wish I that I could just quit. As in, one day I woke up with my lower face numb and swollen and my first thought was MAYBE IT IS A SERIOUS ILLNESS AND I COULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL FOR A WEEK AND EAT FRUIT CUPS AND SOMEONE ELSE COULD DO MY JOB. I’m not trying to be insensitive to those who are ill, just being honest about my reaction. And whining, because with James gone I have lost my captive sympathetic audience. It turns out it was just some bug-bite and I was fine and back to work with no delay, thanks for asking.

But enough of my whining and weekdays. Let’s talk weekends, specifically last weekend when I snuck away to a old plantation house on the James River near Williamsburg with about 20 friends. Usually, I am the one that organizes these type of weekends. This time however, I was the tag-along friend, the one that was mooching off of another group’s annual getaway. For all you organizers out there, I recommend trying this. It is really freeing to just show up with a pillow and whatever food you were assigned to bring and not ask questions.

We fished in the river, soaked up the sun, ate more chocolate covered raisins than should be possible, floated on kick-boards in the pool,  enjoyed the Williamsburg ferry as if it were a cruise, and played loud games while creepy colonial portraits looked on. There was also a lot of baby loving, as our group included three littles under the age of 2, all of which were passed around and kissed constantly all weekend.

And. Those. Biscuits. They get their own paragraph. Sunday we headed across the river to Williamsburg and found our way to brunch at Trellis. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was that I had skipped breakfast but I actually teared up when I ate that biscuit. TEARS. Without a doubt they were the best biscuits I had ever eaten. The ones in that order were actually our second order, and when I woke up from my biscuit-coma nap that afternoon I hated myself for not taking home the bites I couldn’t finish.

But enough about biscuits. As I find myself dragging through some of these busy weekdays, I’m thankful for lazy weekends on river banks and the sorts of people who convince you to get away and take them. I’m thankful for summers that are hanging on through September and quiet weekends before busy weeks. I’m thankful for friends and laughter and food and chubby baby cheeks. And buttery biscuits. Always.

How did you all spend your long weekend?