A few very good things happened today, beginning moments after I woke up and scrolled through instagram where I stumbled upon this post:
Which inspired me to, rather than beg Ben to make a run to Vic’s for the corner biscuit with cheddar cheese grits, instead make buttermilk from 2% and pull my grandmother’s old dented metal biscuit bowl out of the pantry. This is what she kept 1/3 full of flour, covered and ready for baking, ready to teach her teenage granddaughter the secret to her fluffy, brown bottom buttermilk biscuits. I made 5 small biscuits. Enough to satisfy the two of us, and not enough to make me feel guilty about it. Because, you know… Crisco.
And I think using her bowl made all the difference.
The biscuits were so inspiring, I reckon they made my bangs do the thing I’ve always wanted them to do that they’ve never done before. They didn’t bend and frizz in all the wrong places, they were straight and swoopy in a way that made me want to wear bright red lipstick and listen to French jazz from the 1930s and maybe wear a boatneck sweater with the navy stripes.
Instead, I wore my same old cherry flavored lip balm and listened to Christmas music at the Mercantile and I couldn’t find a sweater like that in my closet, but I felt very good about things all the same.