K. met me at the market for an overpriced redevelopment sandwich and minidonuts and we talked about the movie, the relative size of Catholic families in Michigan, domestic fantasies, desserts. A splendid hour.


Oh day of wallops and gut punches and encounters with loss! Failed machines and broken umbrellas and pens that won’t write! And the rain, all this rain! Luckily S. was around for lunch, dismissed early on account of hysteria in a fellow juror, strolled over and met me in the market, we ate sandwiches, I ate donuts, she drank a Sprite. My printer was still invisible when I got back to my desk. Ay, this day!

Honestly? Donuts. And while I stand by my argument that Donut Plant donuts aren’t really donuts, I have to admit on his birthday that S. was right: Worth the walk over the Manhattan Bridge.

I met B. out at the shipping containers and she said right away I’m going to want donuts. Totally. I tried to tell her what’s up but even as the words started out of my mouth it all sounded ridiculous and like it didn’t matter very much. We each keep looking back at our summer vacation photos, to a time when we were doing something else altogether. Then we got the donuts, a bag of fourteen, I could have eaten fourteen more all by myself.

There’s just something great about a family tradition, especially when it’s family you choose that also chooses you.

I usually like whatever N. throws together, so when he put out the call for a friendly meet-n-greet, I was all in. We met at the shipping containers across the street, five of us, and talked about technologies, Poll Everywhere was my takeaway, along with an appreciation for the B&H return policy. I bought more minidonuts for the table than we could really eat, taken in by the guy selling the donuts. You gotta get fourteen. Don’t you want to be the office hero?

C. said we could eat as many donuts as we wanted, that she had never once in the history of post-Halloween donut brunch parties ever run out, even when she made donuts for fifty people. Who am I to take her at anything other than her word? By the time I was sick with them, A. made turkey bacon and eggs, then I. and S. showed up with chicken sausage, all of which made interesting protein garnishes to donuts and more donuts and more donuts and another donut and yet another donut after that one.