Here we are again. But we’re not really here again because it’s not morning, I always write in the morning. Its nap time on Sunday afternoon. A time I’ve overlooked. A time I’ve been stressed out. Dead yellow roses sit in front of me looking like they are bowing their heads in Namaste. I’m full. Even though ice cream gives me a stomach ache, I still ate a large delicious Sunday at lunch. I shared it with jack and Fiona. Our beautiful lunch with cousins, Erin and Gianna. An extra-large round table with a white table cloth right in the front by the fireplace. With oysters and coconut cream pie. Extra special French toast for the babies. One fine Bloody Mary for me. Lemonades for the girls. Pigs we were. Extra special Sunday afternoon. At the Buckeye Roadhouse.