Not yet a ponch of Tycho proportions, but very nearly (#foodcoma)

This was a spectacular weekend, complete with an overdue and much-anticipated reunion; a film that surprised and moved me in tectonic ways; a breakthrough in my fleeting ability to live in the moment; and, above all, a constant, incredible smorgasbord of ridiculously awesome food, prepared by and for the people that I love.  Needless to say, the detox program has crashed and burned in a tower of smoking, still-warm debris.  And GOOD RIDDANCE.  (Although I could use a primer on the symptoms of scurvy, because this weekend was enough to wash every last useful nutrient from my system and replace them with industrial-grade carbs).

Time to get what little sleep I can before Monday comes barreling into the station.  Only six minutes left to take care of today’s lent post.  I miss writing big, meaty posts as part of this challenge; hopefully that can resume this week, before another weekend of (30th birthday) insanity begins.

This weekend I was witness to Theo's first sip of canadian wine, first bowl of poutine, and, most deliciously, first beaver tail. Like a true European, he chose one of the chocolate variety.