Roast Beef at Dawn

It was already Sunday when I went to bed.

After the murder-mystery bachelorette party, which was both every bit as awkward as I expected, and not quite as painful as I expected.

I woke again for the first time around 6:30.

Can I just say that the smell of roast beef cooking at 6:30 in the morning is a little incongruous?

I lay there in the dark, trying to figure out why the whole house smelled like roast beef, or if, perhaps, I was still dreaming.

I woke again a few hours later to the buzzing of my phone.

L was calling from England, and we passed about an hour laughing and talking and catching up on each other's lives.

There was something truly lovely about starting the day laughing and talking with a dear friend far away.

Eventually, after getting the laundry started, I ventured upstairs to make breakfast and discovered a leftover roasting pan.

Clearly, Grandma was making roast beef at 6:30 this morning. 

The question of why this was a logical time to make a roast, remains unanswered.

Maybe it's just because she's 80.

There are a lot of things that happen in this house that seem to only happen because she's 80.

Roast beef before dawn is only the most recent installment.

You stop asking after a while.

And with that, I'm off to tackle the rest of the usual Sunday morning chores before heading out to spend the day celebrating my mom.