beaches + cinnamon rolls

In San Diego, there was a delicious little place just a bike's ride away from us that sold giant cinnamon rolls of the cream-cheese-frosted and nutty-sticky varieties. This was lucky, because on one's honeymoon, one can eat whatever one wants as long as one does not enter into a food coma, because then one would miss out on all the honey fun.  Today I'm daydreaming about that morning when we both ate a whole cinnamon roll and then took a walk down the beach while I, in a third-floor patch of Indiana, try to make space in his giant closet for my stuff.  It's harder than it sounds.


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