this weekend was another good one. we went to a little town called sutter creek, which is just the most charming little place, i swear, one of those towns that just looks stuck in the past, you know? but in a good way, not in a pathetic, sad, worn-down way. not at all. there’s a main street with shop after shop of antiques and salt water taffy and an inn that is a dead ringer for green gables. and we got pizza. not just any pizza. the best pizza i think i’ve ever had. yeah, i think that’s right. a bold statement, but a true one. i could write a sonnet for this pizza, i could, i swear. but i won’t. because, let’s face it, at the end of the day, it’s just pizza. but oh, it was delicious. and now i’ve devoted entirely too much time to pizza. but, it was loaded, it had the perfect crust, and they accidentally put chicken on it, and no one was complaining.
sunday was a lovely day, it was like the perfect sunday. i love perfect sundays. we went to church (which, admittedly, it had been quite some time, and it was so nice to be back!) and the bestie and her darling little one came over for a visit, and the husband bbq-ed for dinner, and it was just nice. a nice, perfect sunday. the way sundays should be.
and now here’s a little morning fluffiness to start the week off right. because that’s all it takes, really. am i right?