Confession: Though I am quixotic enough to dream of intimate tea parties on the lawn, complete with parasols and petit fours, in the meantime this is how I do time with friends—
Hey. Any chance you wanna stay for lunch when we do that photoshoot?
I’ll make egg sandwiches and iced coffee.
Yes! you can bring your homemade granola bars. Yum.
We’ll send the kids down to the creek and lie in the grass shooting photos of maple leaves against the blue sky.
We may or may not be able to hoist ourselves back up again.
Kids in cut-off jeans and crocs will have accidents in undies, go bobbing for earthworms in an old tire and come up with a faceful of slime, sort of accidentally slip and fall into the creek, and all talk at once. Mommies will do gymnastics in and out of their chairs supervising whose turn it was and who started screaming first, insist on everybody taking three more bites before running off to play with the puppy, squeeze in a surprising amount of chat, and dissolve into near-hysterical giggles at surprising times because they don’t get out much* and feel a little giddy.
This is an intimate tea party, Mommy-style.
I may be wrong, but I think that later in life, when I meet my friends in our quiet living rooms or a posh café for lattes and expensive salads, I will think that nothing was better than the good old days, with impromptu picnics hodge-podged out of what was in our fridges at the moment.
It’s spring at last, and the sun has been out for a whole glorious week. I’m spending hours and hours on new projects, trying to sneak in my laundry and housework on the side, completely obsessed with digging holes in the dirt and poking things into them.
Writing feels extremely pointless.
Jesus has been very good to me.
Happiness is a whole lot messier than I thought.
What does spring impromptu look like where you live?
*I don’t get out much is my favorite excuse for brain glitches of any kind. Though not strictly true, it is true in the way I mean it.