July 4, 2015

5:56 PM

You guys, I did some pretty important things this weekend. And for a holiday that started with two bottles of tequila and a box full of sparklers, I'm willing to suggest that it's kind of impressive.

The first -- I finally dug out an envelope large enough to mail to my niece the American Girl catalogs that I've been receiving since the ill-fated Grace Thomas fiasco.

Secondly, and slightly more importantly, I had a very real conversation with my husband about what I think it means to live a meaningful life. Turns out we're two individuals with the same goal, and two different paths to get there. And we're still trying to figure it out.

I really like having these creative pow-wows with Ryan. We obviously share a life, but we have these aspirations that are ours alone, yet somehow mutually inclusive. And at the end of the day, we both want a happy life together. I like these moments -- the hard stuff -- they remind me that we're building something together, but that we have contribute individually and equally. And if I'm being honest, nothing makes me feel the weight of partnership more than crafting a list of goals that exemplifies just that.

Third -- perhaps most surprising -- folks, JACK DID NOT RUN AWAY. Did not. That's a not, a negative, as in -- he didn't.

Are you blown away?

Living in TC is about 47 million times better than just visiting. Primarily, because cool things like watching the annual air show and fireworks from your backyard are a total go. But also, because this week I can have an elephant ear for dinner every single night. Who would know? Who would care?




In other news, Jack met a dog who's pretty dang similar to him. So of course he lost his marbles. 


But that's nothing compared to the time when I thought it was an awesome idea to walk him down town during the airshow. You want to see a dog lose his mind? Bring 'em to the air show. 

Actually, it was an honest mistake. I love him a lot and I wanted to hang out with him all afternoon, so I hopped a ride with Ryan on his scooter, scooped up Jackeroo, and off we went, scooting to the beach. (It was really cute -- it's everything you think it is, dog on a scooter style). 

And it was totally fine. We saw some German Shepherd pups who were a definite 70 grazillion on the 1-10 cuteness scale. Jack is really quite cavalier and down to defend my honor in the face of squirrel, rogue leaf, or mailman, so some GSD pups are no match for him. He barked his brains out and moved along. 

Then -- THEN! A surprise airplane maneuver. Well, it wasn't so much the planes. It was the insane-train sound that follows, oh about ten seconds, after they pass. 

My dog was terrified. And I was really validated. 

He hopped into my arms and did not want to get out ever. Cue the snugly mom feelings, immediately followed by I'm the absolute worst feelings. 

If you're wondering -- it's been a few hours and everything is cool now. But I'm pretty sure he's wrecked to small fireworks and the fairly routine misfires that happen in our driveway from here on out. 

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So, he didn't run away, but he still hogged my whole Fourth of July blogpost for another year in a row. 

Whatevs. 

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Someday, which is probably never, I'll address the tequila intro. 

Ha! Hope your 4th rocked!









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