Every Sunday should be so lovely. 75 degrees. Fresh eggs, dewy plums and the company of your best gay boyfriend.
I will miss you posing anywhere and everywhere with cats. I will miss the same story told at least a dozen times, but with an alternate, more entertaining ending with each succession. I will miss you losing your glasses at IHOP and almost missing your 14 hour flight back to Shanghai.
Thanks for the Sunday love, Love! It was, as always, eggcellent. xo