Last weekend, some of my best girls here in Austin and I decided to have a girl's sleepover. I mean, we're adults, but a sleepover still sounded like a super fun way to catch up, spend quality time together, and pamper ourselves, although my goodness, I loathe the word "pamper." It looked a little different than your typical sleepover for eight-year-olds. We made supper together—salmon on the grill, topped with a basil/mango/avocado salsa, plus roasted potatoes, brussels sprouts, and mashed cauliflower. We drank coffee at 8pm, because, well, we could. We sang worship songs together, practicing harmony variations, and talked about marriage and essential oils, and a bunch of other stuff. We took blurry photos in the backyard, most of which at least one person's head was cropped out. We each took a turn in a foot bath, and with the nail polish. And naturally, we rifled through Molly's closet, because friends do that, right?
We pulled a mattress out to the living room, and fell asleep watching The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Well, to be honest, I didn't, I laughed and cried my way to the credits, all by myself ;) No matter how many times I see it, it just gets me every time.
The next day, we woke up to a few rounds of coffee from Molly's Chemex, baked oatmeal that Jessica brought (with cardamom!) and the best peaches I've ever tried. Before Molly left for work, we prayed for the day—for peace and courage, because every day requires a bit of both. And then Jessica and I ran some of the most fun errands to the yarn shop and our favorite local juice place (activated lemonade or sundaze for me, please).
At the end of the weekend, we had rosy cheeks from the heat and a few bug bites, but we also had encouraged and happy hearts. I felt like there was nothing else to say, because it had all been said. Until next time, of course. After all, who says we're too old for sleepovers?
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