Abigail M. Schilling

On the Sundays we don't go to church (which are more often than they should be) we go to Mimi's for breakfast. Once the decision (to go to breakfast instead of church) is made (easily in the summer because the service time is much too early) we lay around in our underwear until we muster the energy to put clothes on.

Getting dressed might be the easiest part (unless you count the decision making) because it's so short-term. On weekdays we must plan for at least 8 hours in the office and who-knows-what after and the varying temps of air conditioning and hot hot California, but on Sunday mornings we can wear whatever we want. We're not seeing co-workers, or friends from college, or potential dates.

This results in a variety of outfits: short skirts and tube tops, pajama pants, t-shirts with cut-off jeans, hats, earrings, and every accessory imaginable. We never look like we're all going to the same place. We brings books and magazines to read while we wait (there's always a wait because it's Sunday brunch and all the families are there and the grandparents are paying) and discuss the menu at length.

I always get the stuffed french toast. It's stuffed with cream cheese and covered with fruit and they let me sub out everything it comes with (which is important to me because I don't like anything it comes with). We try to be girls about it and talk about how we just can't eat it all, but in the end we eat it all (and then complain about how full we are).

We try not to talk about boys, they are, after all, so pedestrian, and instead discuss really important things. Like what we would do if we were really really rich. (I would have all my meals personally prepared. And all my clothes tailored.) Or what celebrities we would sleep with. (Pierce Brosnan. Adam Brody. Clooney. Pitt. The usuals.) We talk about work, what we dreamed about the night before, and what movie we should see next (the recent pick was amazing; see below). And then we resolve to go to church more and drink less (as long as neither resolution gets in the way of our laying-around time).

Every (except when we're at church) Sunday.