Saturdays in most households have a tradition all their own. Ours have developed a pattern of donut consumption. We realized though that’s it’s far too easy to drive to buy donuty delights, so we’ve decided to start walking. Here’s our journey to the donut shop a half-mile down the road last Saturday.

Walking from our apartment toward the main road whereon our pot of donut gold is found, we pass the soccer field where I play every Wednesday and Saturday with internationals and other center residents. I gain a sense of satisfaction walking past the soccer pitch on the donut run because I know that whatever I consume will be negated shortly by that magical wonder exercise. Or, does it work the other way around: the donut negates the exercise? Oh dear, anyways…

The Texan sun isn’t kind even to donut travelers. Nonetheless Granny and Grandad soldier on for the joy set before them. We joke that we’ll arrive only to find the shop shut this particular morning.

Our first obstacle is crossing four lanes of traffic. I reckon by now you can probably guess the answer to the perennial riddle Why the Granny crossed the road.

A too-short-for-pedestrian-safety-flashing WALK sign later, we arrive. Grandad’s the first to enter. Granny and Henry aren’t far behind. In fact, I’m the one behind.

Now, the donuts. Would you know that I tried to get the Korean patrona to pose with her donuts but she refused?! I asked nicely. =/

At least donuts aren’t shy. I mean with looks like these why would they need to be?

With donuts in tow we head home: cream-filled for Grandad, chocolate with sprinkles for Poppy, apple fritter for Mummy, chocolate with coconut for Daddy, and Granny doesn’t even care. Now, you haven’t seen me and Poppy in the pictures. That’s not because we’re shy but because I’m snapping the pics and Poppy’s strapped to my back much like Henry is riding along on Granny.

In addition to getting to eat donuts, there are two great things about the Saturday morning donut run: (1) Grandad insists on buying and (2) if you didn’t find the donut you wanted, you can always pick a horse-apple on the return journey, although we’re not sure if anyone actually eats them.

Does your family have a Saturday morning ritual?