Happiness Project brunch, no. 2

So. Here's the deal. Two Happiness Project brunches have gone by with not a blog post in sight. Why? Because February was weird. Every single person at the brunch collectively agreed. Weird. Most, because they're all my friends and sensitive hippies like me, attributed a degree of the weirdness to Mercury's retrograde. It's a thing. Look it up. We also realized that February is a generally cruel month in the great state of Utah, full of horrible inversions and illness and blah. Not to mention the chapter in Rubin's book: Remember Love. 

Before your mind spins off into cliche visions of bitter suburban book clubs and cat ladies, let me clarify that we are a solid mix of urban singles, marrieds, gays, partners, co-habitators, lesbians, and dating abstainers. We love love. This was not a bitter book bashing. We just didn't love Rubin's chapter. Sure, we found useful nuggets:

Pierre Reverdy wrote: "There is no love; there are only proofs of love." Whatever love I might feel in my heart, others will see only my actions.  
The business school truism: "You manage what you measure."  
Truth: To be happy, I need to think about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth. "Happiness," wrote Yeats, "is neither virtue nor pleasure not this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing."

But overall, we were universally bothered by how she patronizes her husband and, in a roundabout ironic way, infantilizes him as she writes about building healthy relationships. There are lessons to be learned from her writing in chapter two, we simply learned more from workshopping with each other and ignoring her. Mostly. 

Brunchers gonna brunch.

So, before I post the obligatory Instagram photos of the brunch food, let me disclose a modicum of personal insight along the relationship theme. This is a blog, after all. Here's where I landed after reading the love chapter:

I'm intentionally not dating right now. I'm okay with that, see: intentional. I'm working through some stuff that, for whatever reason, I've determined I don't want to work through while also balancing another person in the mix. I go back and forth as to the wisdom of this decision. On one hand, I look back through my dating years and recognize a pattern of thinking I need to have it all pulled together before being with someone. On the other hand, I know that's a false dichotomy. I know I will eventually, as I've done many times over the years, start dating again regardless of my trajectory on whatever imaginary path I've created for myself. Also, I have moments of honest clarity when I realize there's some of that aforementioned stuff that I'd actually like to work through with someone. 

In related news, I really dislike dating. I more or less hate it, actually. It bores me. I don't like the drama and the butterflies and the wondering and the dance of it all. I'm all about the good stuff once that tedium is out of the way. I'm a girlfriend girl. I thrive in partnerships. It's the same reason I suck at small talk. I like to commit and focus and work it out and move on if it's not right. The best romantic relationships of my life have spent significant time in that sweet spot of the hard work of relationships. I'm to a point in my life where I'm pretty solid in who I am and what makes me tick. I would love to find someone that compliments all of that as an equal partner, and clearly I'd do the same for them and compliment whatever makes them tick. I realize you have to, ugh, date, to get there, but whatever. 

Is that enough bloggery disclosure? This could go on for days. No one wants that. Let's look at photos of french toast. 

Not Pictured: Half and Half. Brunch is no place for a diet. 

Teach me, Alton. Teach me. 

I added quite a lot of cinnamon to my version.

Use crusty country bread that dried overnight. Trust me. And Alton. 

Mi madre helping me soak and set the bread.

Griddle, then oven, then mouth. Insanely good. 

You're welcome:

Alton's gourmet french toast recipe.

My tangential, self-absorbed post about Happiness Project brunch, no. 3

Bohemian glass as far as the eye can see