The Days Float By

It is hard to come back to a do-nothing job after the weekend I had. I played. Like a 4-year-old, like a 10-year-old, like a 17-year-old, and like an almost 24-year-old. Which is to emphasize that I never really stopped playing. I began a single-person effort to bring back "playing" when I was in high school. Our courtship, C and me, revolved around wading in the creek, rolling down grassy hills, jumping on the trampoline; playing. It's important to me. I'm desperate to hang onto it. When I go too long without a "fix," something that reminds me that play is still a part of my life, I get scared and worried and stressed. Sounds juvenile, but chances are, I am juvenile. The adult, responsible me is an act. I pretend to be her so that I am allowed to be me. And this weekend I played. It was completely reminiscent of the days C and I were getting to know each other and R was always with us.

We were at the creek and I was going to walk down with the dogs on the banks and through the water. Bella is a water dog, but Boris isn't sure he likes it yet. I made one of my bargains with R (the very first one was almost disastrous, but for another time). If he could get his truck through the creek onto the gravel bar, he and C could go swimming with me. He did and they did. Down to their skives in no time and in the water. And we all swam downstream. Why is this so great? Because everyday thousands of different voices flood you trying to tell you not to eat that, or something else causes cancer, or don't be fat exercise more, or lack of quality time destroys relationships, etc. So for these few hours, I spent time with two of the boys I love away from everything just enjoying the creek. That's a wonderful thing.

Followed up by C's mom fixing us her version of our favorite things for lunch. C loves this sloppy joe/baked beans concoction and I'm a fan of chicken, pasta, and parmesan. She also brought home ginger ale and raspberry sherbet. If you haven't before, try those together. We then said hi to Uncle J and Aunt T, who are taking us along to Seattle in July. The dogs were so tired from earlier that they slept and slept. Sunday brought Father's Day and we got Dad a pitchfork because he is the mighty mole hunter. Lunch was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy - I couldn't ask for more.

We had the chance to visit R, AM, and little E at their house, so I spent a few precious minutes with AM and little E. They were clean. I'm sure. The little one is growing so fast. He'll be walking around before he even turns one.

Bella has a puncture wound in her chest. It didn't hit anything because it's not that deep, but I was scared when I found it on Saturday. I don't react calmly when I think my dog is hurt. We have no idea how it happened or when it happened because she's not acting like it hurts. We might have to get the vet to stitch it up. Otherwise, it was a great weekend and surely, the summer can only hold more.