I love weekend breakfasts, absolutely dreamy-stars-in-my-eyes in love with them. They are some of my favorite meals ever. Before we had kids, Greg and I enjoyed weekend breakfasts together, side by side on the dining room bench, with our amazingly rich cups of coffee, while trying to conquer the New York Times Crossword Puzzle, the Merl Reagle Crossword. I made Greg hold the pencil because he always answered way more than I ever could. Unless, of course, it had to do with literature or French.
It’s a little amazing to me the things that stick with us and the things that remain out of the grasp of memory. I can often answer the questions in the crosswords that demand an answer in French, a language I haven’t studied since high school, but I can’t remember the story Jasper told me last week about himself and his brother, Rooirder, and their camping trip through the Amazon. (I’m not actually sure how to spell the name of Jasper’s imaginary brother who lives in South America.) …