the group chat in Minneapolis

we packed our weekender bags, our emotional support water bottles, and I had at least three half-read books we knew we wouldn’t touch. And we took the i-35n.

it was one of those trips that starts out as a casual girls’ weekend and slowly becomes a light spiritual awakening, powered by carbs, steam rooms, and group text therapy IRL.

brunch at hen house

we started the weekend strong with eggs and lattes. it was packed (as it should be), but the brunch gods showed us mercy and we were seated in under 10 minutes. while we waited, we casually browsed their pastry case — and by “browse,” i mean deeply contemplated whether cake at 10am was an act of self-care or just… saturday hangry energy.

verdict: self-care. the whole place had that cozy charm, some funny quips like if a grandma in the Midwest opened a breakfast spot.

eggs? yummy and in big portions.

pastries? suspiciously good.

coffee? yes, please, more.

i’ll never say no to espressos or lattes with oat milk. or even a flat white… yum! please, give me a few more cups of the latte with oat milk as we kick off the weekend.

wandering the Minneapolis Institute of Art

i’ll be honest: i didn’t expect much. it’s the Midwest…

i was like, ok, regional museum, let’s see some nice landscape paintings and maybe a dusty knight in armor. but MIA came through.

the diversity of the collection surprised me with some works from around the world, a decent curation, and a layout that didn’t feel like a maze designed to trap your soul. no shade to the MET (jk, some shade), but MIA held its own.

there was something grounding about being in a space where you could jump from japanese woodblock prints to contemporary textile pieces to ancient sculpture, all in one loop. we stayed longer than planned and had about four separate existential art spirals, which i believe is the correct museum-to-human ratio.

melting at Watershed

this spa was everything. I walked in with stiff shoulders and a little travel fatigue, and walked out like I’ve been poached for 90 minutes.

the quiet. the heat. the “maybe i’ll become one with the water” energy? ideal.

it was the kind of relaxation that makes you reevaluate your entire life and also forget how to speak in complete sentences (yep, we’ve lived it lol). we were soft. we were glowing. we were… ready for bed. which is funny, because dinner was just getting started…

pit stop at Maison Margaux

between the bathhouse and dinner, we found ourselves at maison margaux.

mostly because it was down the street and also because we love making room for another meal by… having a mini meal first. the vibe: french.

it felt romantic, velvet-forward, fancy but definitely not fussy. we had sometime to burn before our sushi endeavors, so we grabbed a couple of drinks and appetizers that hit exactly the right spot: a pre-dinner that flirted with becoming dinner but didn’t fully commit.

it gave us just enough energy to acknowledge how spaced out we were after becoming spa-zombies and then trying to get back into the mode of functioning dinner guests.

omakase at Kado no Mise

listen: if you’ve ever overdone omakase to the point that it starts to feel like emotional sushi roulette, you get me.

the experience at kado no mise was beautiful — every dish was plated like a tiny piece of art and served with a quiet reverence that made you feel slightly unworthy (in a good way). but i’ll admit, my california omakase phase had my standards set a little high, and while it was good, it wasn’t mind-melting.

still, the atmosphere, the flow, the rhythm of the dinner — it was the kind of meal that forces you to slow down, chew thoughtfully, and nod a lot like you know what you’re tasting.

group chat, but deeper

in the end, this wasn’t just a trip. it was a soft reboot. a little moment to disconnect from deadlines, spreadsheets, and google calendar reminders and reconnect with each other — in real life, with real food, in fluffy robes and flickering candlelight. we laughed, we spiraled, we stared at art and accidentally had deep talks over soup. and somewhere between hen house and that 5th course at kado no mise, we remembered what it feels like to just be — with each other, and with ourselves.