Ginger Al

In my current attempt to embrace springtime, my last quarter at SPU, and life in general, I went to Top Pot Donuts this beautiful morning with my room-mates Katie and Stace.

Now, do you, reader, understand how lovely a doughnut can be? Not when they have been sitting out in an office kitchen for days. And not when you've eaten five of them in a row. No, you must go up to the counter and pick out one freshly baked doughnut of your choice, plus order a cup of coffee along with that. As you eat your chosen doughnut, you must not say self-deprecating things about yourself for eating such a thing. Yes, of course doughnuts are unhealthy. We don't eat them to be healthy. We eat them because they taste like happiness.

My choice this morning was called a Bullseye: a fluffy glazed doughnut with a dab of raspberry jam in the doughnut hole. Yes.

We sat with our chosen doughnuts and coffees and talked about how things change as we grow up, and how sad this is. From favorite local doughnut shops to our grandparents' homes. We talked about going to Christian schools, and whether we would send our children to such places.

We spied so many little boys who came in with their moms and dads to get doughnuts. And they were all classic boys. To our right sat a boy and an old man, who were silently and carefully playing a game of chess. To our left was a boy in a funny beanie and his mom, and the boy ate all of the chocolate frosting off of his doughnut and then declared himself finished, with most of the frosting around his mouth. Four boys in bike helmets came in. They had mops of brown hair on their head.

I think I might want to have a boy. But that's a whole other realm I don't want to get into. Babies. Nope, don't need to be planning THAT portion of my life out just yet.