Zen Friday

Two weeks of little writing time and no jogging have me feeling blue, but today was brightened by my sister, who took us to lunch at our favorite feminist, vegetarian restaurant and bookstore, Bloodroot. During my postpartum summer, my sister visited many Fridays–“Zen Fridays,” we called them–and we’d have lunch under a big weeping willow tree. Isabella had her first tastes of soup there. Today she danced among the bookshelves of feminist literature, ate her own plate of quiche, and chatted with the resident cat, Gloria Steinem.

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