have you met meg?

no? you haven't met her?

neither have i.

but i want to.

i imagine m and i would be dear friends. ...the kind of friend who also
loves salty and sweet for brunch.
she'd order the banana macadamia nut flapjacks and
i would order the western omelet and we'd happily split.
salty and sweet.

her blog often brings me to tears.
she paints such exquisite pictures of what's inside her heart-
how does she know the same dreams are inside mine?

you must read this post ...
but until you do...
here's a little treat from
the wild and wily ways of a brunette bombshell.

So my dearest, darling-est, dreamiest husband-to-be, know this...

don't take me to the opera. or the rainbow room. don't make it a carriage ride through central park or a weekend getaway. i'm not even sure i need you to get on one knee. but do it on the door step. on the front stoop. sitting next to me. on the same level. turn to me and ask me to be your best friend, your lover, your absolute equal. so that then we can go inside and begin our life together, as we've always known we would.

That being said, you sure as hell better ask my father first. I believe in chivalry. And I was raised in the South.

amen, sister!
tea with tazita next week?