Yesterday at church, during Relief Society, someone announced that we were starting up an Indexing competition, to get people more involved in Family History.
I was quite pleased about this announcement for two reasons:
1. Indexing was my baby during my short tenure as Family History Committee co-chair months ago. My co-chair had a lot of family history research he could do, as his family hadn't done much of it in the past. And I, having quite a bit of our history mapped out already, waxed eloquently on the joys of indexing, which helped other people, like my co-chair, do their own family history work. We complemented each other in our interests and passions on the committee. So I am, of course, ecstatic that the current committee are investing in Indexing to get people involved now.
2. I had just indexed a batch of records earlier in the morning - I find that it's a great Sunday morning activity, since I have hours and hours to fill before 3pm church rolls around (and miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep) - and I made sure to confirm that my efforts from the morning would count. The girl making the announcement said, sure, she thought the competition started that day, so why not. And I agreed. And so did the rest of my Relief Society class, when they found that the groups would be split so that we were all on a team.
I did some more indexing last night, and a little more tonight, because when you're on a roll, you should continue strong in your pursuits, right?
With the Indexing software, when you go to download a batch, a number of options pull up, with one usually noted in red, with "(highest priority)" noted next to it. I used to obediently and immediately click on that one, and suffer through whatever it was, because that mark of priority seemed to whisper to me that I couldn't possibly think of taking any other batch, as they were all of lesser importance than this one.
But recently, I've been rebelling. I must not have done enough of that as a teenager, because the thrill of acting out rushes through my blood every time I pick a batch of less distinguished importance.
Not really, but let's do pretend - it makes me simultaneously laugh out loud at the silliness of the notion and feel utterly ridiculous that I would think that's even funny.
I like a good complexity of feeling.
ANYWAY.
Lately, I've been favoring the batches that are all marriage licenses. I think I just completed a batch of marriage licenses from 1941, from Iowa. The batch before was 1939, from Illinois. Or something like that. I enjoy seeing the names of the men and women coming together in holy matrimony, the ages of the couples - one couple was 20 years different in age, and another couple were 16- and 15-years-old!
I've also been listening to an audiobook that is narrated by a woman with a lovely, captivating English accent. The novel includes a love story or two, 2 generations of mother/daughter complexities (parents just don't understand), and World War II. All this to say, creating stories of people's lives has been on my mind, and I've taken to imagining how these various couples first met, narrated in a charming British accent, of course, which makes everything better.
I tell you, it's made my indexing even more enjoyable than it already was! The stories aren't too long. Just how Robert walked down the street, eyes on the letter he had just received, when he suddenly stopped, having accidentally run into something. And Eliza Mae was the loveliest something he had ever bumped into in his life. And as Robert looked into the charming woman's smiling eyes, he knew right then and there - he was going to marry that girl.
*Seriously, read it with an English accent. So much better, right?! I love beginning made-up stories.
And just like that, I've indexed 71 records - that's 71 more opportunities for someone else to learn about their own family heritage. Someone somewhere is going to look up William Bly's name online and will find a link to a marriage record that shows William having married Martha Steene on March 19, 1941. And a whole new world will open up as they finally find the maiden name of their great-grandfather's wife, and they track down ancestors 3 generations back and find out they're part Swedish, through Martha's line. All of this, because of me.
A girl likes to be useful every once in awhile.
Anyway, all this is just to say - perhaps I need to get out more.
OR, perhaps you, too, should index. Come index with me!
Monday, June 24, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Just a Little Father's Day Note to My Father (Obviously)
I woke up this morning and started cleaning our kitchen, trying to make it presentable for at least a few hours. As I loaded the dishwasher, I took a few minutes to reorganize the dishes already in it, to maximize the cleaning potential and fit more dishes in, while also trying to avoid melting plastic on the bottom shelf.
I am officially my father's daughter.
There are certain times in your life when you feel the impact of your parents' influence in your life. Moments when you know exactly who made you who you are. Moments where the nurture vs. nature debate skews completely nurture. The moments when you feel one parent's specific impact are especially poignant.
For me, the moments when I know my father's impact on my personality and habits usually comes when I'm loading the dishwasher.
And by usually, I mean always. Not a dishwasher load goes by where I don't hear my dad's voice explaining the "proper" way to load the dishes. Utensils should be sorted when they're loaded to make for easier unloading. I don't care how well the dishwasher can clean the plates, I'm still going to pre-rinse them before so the washer doesn't get all clogged and gross. There are just better ways to load dishes than others - and I'm trying to teach my roommates that, though they don't seem to see it the way I do....
But dad, your influence in my life has extended beyond kitchen cleaning. Indeed, you've shown how enjoyable vacuuming can be, when you've got a good book to listen to. The way you vacuum the house makes me think there aren't many things more therapeutic than a good 2-hour vacuuming session. I've recently come to appreciate a solid ironing session, provided I have something interesting to watch as I iron. A manicured lawn is high on my list of "great things in the world" and I only wish our lawn service people were as good as you taught me to be at mowing the grass - our grass is so uneven, they don't seem to take it slow enough for the blade to cut evenly, the brutes.
Though they've been an obvious consequence of growing up under your tutelage, my cleaning habits are not the only part of me that reflects you.
I love a good, thought-provoking book. And I like to talk about those books, and the thoughts they've provoked. And I like to talk about them with you, in particular.
When I smell freshly-mowed grass, I think of cross-country season. I never would've had such an association if you weren't such an avid runner my whole life, turning our family into a running family. Goodness knows I wouldn't have run cross-country if it wasn't a Barlow tradition to uphold...which I'm now grateful for (and was then, though I didn't appreciate it quite as much during practices).
I play devil's advocate sometimes with people. I think I learned this from growing up listening to you cheer for whatever football team was playing against our beloved Packers, just to balance mom's home team enthusiasm. Your needling during close games was the only time I saw mom be visibly angry with you.
I write in my journal, not as often as I should, but as consistently as I can. I used to think I did this just because I kind of like writing. But you've kept a journal over the course of your life, and I've seen that, and we've talked about it. And I think I keep writing because of those reasons. I still remember a simple conversation we had in the kitchen once when I was a teenager, when I mentioned something about my journaling, and how I'm not really sure there's anything really valuable in it, and that I always seemed to end things with, "things work out in the end" or "it wasn't a big deal" or something like that. And you mentioned that perhaps my granddaughter would read those entries one day, and she'd see that her grandmother went through similar experiences as she was going through, and that I knew things would be okay, and they were okay, and she could take comfort in that for her own life. Or something to that effect. I don't remember the specific words you used - but I remember thinking that I wanted to be a good support to my grandkids, like you imagined, so I write in my journal.
I can never make someone a sandwich without wanting to cut out a small corner for "tithing." I think I actually learned what tithing really was through your object lessons with my bagels and pb&j sandwiches.
Dad, thanks for helping make me who I am. Thanks for being a man of many interests and full personality. Thanks for being the clean-cut stake president whom I caught watching WWE some Monday nights. Thanks for totally understanding and loving Jane Austen - I love talking Emma with you ("badly done, Emma!"). Thanks for every single twist cone after every single piano lesson you picked me up from.
I will always, always, always think of you when I see or hear about the movie, Carrie. Thanks for sticking that movie out with me that one time. It's a constant source of happiness in my heart, and it makes me smile every time I think of us watching that dreadful horror movie together. Same goes for the Happiness of the Katakuris (what a weirdo movie).
I am officially my father's daughter.
There are certain times in your life when you feel the impact of your parents' influence in your life. Moments when you know exactly who made you who you are. Moments where the nurture vs. nature debate skews completely nurture. The moments when you feel one parent's specific impact are especially poignant.
For me, the moments when I know my father's impact on my personality and habits usually comes when I'm loading the dishwasher.
And by usually, I mean always. Not a dishwasher load goes by where I don't hear my dad's voice explaining the "proper" way to load the dishes. Utensils should be sorted when they're loaded to make for easier unloading. I don't care how well the dishwasher can clean the plates, I'm still going to pre-rinse them before so the washer doesn't get all clogged and gross. There are just better ways to load dishes than others - and I'm trying to teach my roommates that, though they don't seem to see it the way I do....
But dad, your influence in my life has extended beyond kitchen cleaning. Indeed, you've shown how enjoyable vacuuming can be, when you've got a good book to listen to. The way you vacuum the house makes me think there aren't many things more therapeutic than a good 2-hour vacuuming session. I've recently come to appreciate a solid ironing session, provided I have something interesting to watch as I iron. A manicured lawn is high on my list of "great things in the world" and I only wish our lawn service people were as good as you taught me to be at mowing the grass - our grass is so uneven, they don't seem to take it slow enough for the blade to cut evenly, the brutes.
Though they've been an obvious consequence of growing up under your tutelage, my cleaning habits are not the only part of me that reflects you.
I love a good, thought-provoking book. And I like to talk about those books, and the thoughts they've provoked. And I like to talk about them with you, in particular.
When I smell freshly-mowed grass, I think of cross-country season. I never would've had such an association if you weren't such an avid runner my whole life, turning our family into a running family. Goodness knows I wouldn't have run cross-country if it wasn't a Barlow tradition to uphold...which I'm now grateful for (and was then, though I didn't appreciate it quite as much during practices).
I play devil's advocate sometimes with people. I think I learned this from growing up listening to you cheer for whatever football team was playing against our beloved Packers, just to balance mom's home team enthusiasm. Your needling during close games was the only time I saw mom be visibly angry with you.
I write in my journal, not as often as I should, but as consistently as I can. I used to think I did this just because I kind of like writing. But you've kept a journal over the course of your life, and I've seen that, and we've talked about it. And I think I keep writing because of those reasons. I still remember a simple conversation we had in the kitchen once when I was a teenager, when I mentioned something about my journaling, and how I'm not really sure there's anything really valuable in it, and that I always seemed to end things with, "things work out in the end" or "it wasn't a big deal" or something like that. And you mentioned that perhaps my granddaughter would read those entries one day, and she'd see that her grandmother went through similar experiences as she was going through, and that I knew things would be okay, and they were okay, and she could take comfort in that for her own life. Or something to that effect. I don't remember the specific words you used - but I remember thinking that I wanted to be a good support to my grandkids, like you imagined, so I write in my journal.
I can never make someone a sandwich without wanting to cut out a small corner for "tithing." I think I actually learned what tithing really was through your object lessons with my bagels and pb&j sandwiches.
Dad, thanks for helping make me who I am. Thanks for being a man of many interests and full personality. Thanks for being the clean-cut stake president whom I caught watching WWE some Monday nights. Thanks for totally understanding and loving Jane Austen - I love talking Emma with you ("badly done, Emma!"). Thanks for every single twist cone after every single piano lesson you picked me up from.
I will always, always, always think of you when I see or hear about the movie, Carrie. Thanks for sticking that movie out with me that one time. It's a constant source of happiness in my heart, and it makes me smile every time I think of us watching that dreadful horror movie together. Same goes for the Happiness of the Katakuris (what a weirdo movie).
When I see the Tour de France on tv, I picture you in the basement of our Wisconsin home, pedaling hard on the stationary bike to keep up with the US team as they navigate the roads of France, your foster home those 2-3 years of your and mom's young adult life.
When I think of reading the Hobbit, I think of you. I've read chapters 1 & 2 with you about 7 times over the course of my life. If I ever make it past chapter 3, we'll have to throw a party. I don't think it'll happen unless I'm reading from that beautiful green hardcover edition of yours - that lovely book is the only reason I've ever wanted to read it anyway.
There are so many other things that make me think of you and so many ways that I am truly my father's daughter, but for now, this list will have to do. Thanks for giving me your smile, your discomfort with matching other people, and your love these 27 years of my life. I love you right back. You're kind of a darling dad, and I've been so lucky to end up a little bit like you!
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Just Bein' Good Looking, I Guess
My bff Berkley was in town this weekend. We did a lot of fun things, ate a lot of good food, dashed through a lot of Summer rain. It was a good trip, by all counts (at least, I thought it was).
Sunday night, we went to one of my roommates' homes, where her sweet parents offered us a well-rounded meal of fish, fruits, vegetables, pasta, pesto sauce, lemons, etc, etc, etc. It was delicious. A meal I anticipate making one day myself, years from now.
Then we played some piano and had a lovely sing-along to Norah Jones, the Lion King, and Pink, and then dipped our toes in the pool outside for a bit, until rain poured down from the sky in sudden and unexpected overflowing bucketfuls. After seeking shelter inside, we settled ourselves on the couches in the living room and had our weekly gab session. GIRL TALK!
After a little while, we decided it was time to come back to our house, so we thanked her parents for a completely lovely evening and promised we'd return again soon (regardless of any invitation).
As we headed home, we turned on the radio, and I quickly told Melanie to turn back to the station she had just switched from, because the two notes I heard told me that Savage Garden's Truly, Madly, Deeply was playing, and it's my weakness.
That song must've put us in a funny mood, because everything was suddenly goofy and we were hilarious.
So there we were, singing great songs while listening to Delilah on the radio, just being good looking and enjoying a lovely ride home together.
And then.
A car - a small suburban - started passing us on our right side. I was on the left in the back, looking at Berkley on my right as I said something, and I cut myself off mid-sentence with, "is he looking at us?" Berkley looked over and snapped her head back, "yes!" Then she giggled.
We were back in college again, flirting with boys on the road, apparently.
Roommate Melanie, in shotgun, then looked over as we passed the car again, and he pulled up again, and smiled and waved, and then turned to us, breaking out in hysterical giggles.
It's like we hadn't seen or talked to boys in years or something. We couldn't handle it, this was so exciting (I write, as I shake my head in slight embarrassment, and slight nostalgia...)!
He smiled and waved back, and we flirted and danced back and forth on the road, passing one another, stealing glances, smiling coyly, looking away quickly after our eyes meet. I twirled a lock of hair in nervous girlishness.
In short, all the little moves I learned from Seventeen Magazine when I was, well, not yet seventeen.
(Ed. note: I think my ability to flirt peaked in 6th grade, when I tried the "make eye contact, hold eye contact for 4 seconds, then look down shyly with a smile" move on a boy named David in my math class, and it totally worked - he was hooked. You know, as well as a 6th grader can be. I've never been quite as on my game as that moment. And it's been my lament these many years.)
This went on all the way down King Street, with its many stop lights, and as we came out of Old Town, more roads joined our two, and we were separated for a short moment.
But, lo! Our car boyfriend would not desert us, and suddenly he was by our side again. With his window rolled down and his arm out to get our attention! AND...
Some other guy in the backseat!
Okay, there was no other guy in the car the whole time he was driving by us before. This guy in the back came out of nowhere! Suddenly, there was this other figure, a shadow behind the tinted back window. A second boyfriend! It was crazy and blew our minds. There were two of them! This whole time!
Melanie, being a smart, adult woman, refused to roll her window down - we're not 18 anymore! We're smarter than that! And as they kept trying to get our attention, roommate Whitney valiantly kept us just out of reach of them. At one point, another suburban blocked them from driving next to us - another small suburban with a young man who happened to see 4 young women, just laughing and being good looking, and who decided to keep looking at us and smiling until we pulled away.
Something was in the air, these boys were drunk on the smell of Summer rain.
But boyfriend car didn't let new kid on the block steal our attention, and he saddled himself up on our side again quickly enough, waving his arm as though we hadn't seen him there yet.
And then came that moment when we had to decide which route home to take - do we turn left or go straight?
We went to turn left, and then the suburban snuck into a turn lane as well, so we shrieked to Whitney to change lanes again and go straight. Our sensible, worldly, paranoid minds raced to the conclusion that they'd obviously follow us to our home, and we didn't know these guys! So they turned left and we waited for red to turn green so we could go forward. Once they turned left, we slightly reverted back to teenagers and regretted our decision. Until we realized we were still very happy not worrying about them following us, and that our car boyfriends were probably total hicks anyway, and we don't have time for that.
So we drove on into the night, to our home, where we parked and walked into the house, each of us singing a different song from that eventful car ride, causing wonder and worry in our neighbors as they sat on the porch next door, quietly questioning if maybe we were a little drunk, or just a little weird.
But really, we were just good looking, I guess.
It makes a person a little giggly at times.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
One Resolution Down
So this is gracing the world now:
http://mormon.org/me/CGDK
Hooray!!!
I can finally cross that off my 2011 New Year's Resolution list.
I'll catch up to 2013 sooner or later.
http://mormon.org/me/CGDK
Hooray!!!
I can finally cross that off my 2011 New Year's Resolution list.
I'll catch up to 2013 sooner or later.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
So Many Adventures, So Little Recap
I've neglected you all! I deeply apologize. Particularly because I don't have much to say at the moment, so this just isn't much to work with...
I feel like I've been incredibly busy lately with different activities, though, so you'd think there'd be something to say.
Not really.
My words are dried up at the moment - I'll call sunstroke. But in a slightly dry, to-do list sort of way, here's what I've been up to in the last month and a half:
I went sailing!
I've gone twice now, once when there was no wind at all, and once when there was quite a bit of wind. Sailing is easier when you have wind to take you places, but it certainly is relaxing just bobbing in the water when there's no wind at all, so I'd say I really liked the actual sailing that happened the second time, but I don't regret that first, calm sailing experience at all. Actually, now that I think about it, the only similarity in my two sailing experiences was the type of boat; otherwise, everything was different. The first time I went sailing, it was me and my two roommates, with no wind, at 1pm on a Saturday. Just the girls lounging on the river. The second time was Friday evening, with 6 dudes, and lots of wind to take us zigzagging back and forth across the river. It was a lovely sunset cruise, and I'm mostly just glad we didn't tip over - and we picked up a fishing rod! Sorry buddy who lost it out there originally, but I don't think you'll be getting it back. It's a pretty nice rod.
And I want to go sailing all the time now.
-------------------
I went to a reception at the Australian Embassy!
Some embassies are super smart and realize that the best way to get meetings with Congressmen is by becoming friendly with the Schedulers. While we don't necessarily make the decision about whether we schedule a meeting, we certainly control how a request is presented and where to put you on the schedule, so it helps to be really nice to schedulers - FYI for anyone thinking to request something of one of us in the future...
The Australian Embassy decided to follow the direction of the Canadian Embassy and they hosted a reception specifically for Schedulers - this is exciting for two reasons: 1. we rarely get invitations directed to us, for us. So this one, like the other rare invites, have to note explicitly, "schedulers, this invitation is for YOU, not your boss!" Awesome. And, 2. unlike other staff who mingle frequently with their counterparts in other offices, schedulers are kind of stuck to our desks, and we prefer emailing to any other form of communication (it's nice to have a paper trail...), so we don't mingle as much. So it's nice to have a chance to actually meet people. I can't say I did meet many new schedulers at this reception, but the opportunity was there. And that's a good start. And I did meet a few Aussies with really great Aussie accents. And they had some delicious macaroons. So the reception was a success.
--------------------
I went to a puppy party!!!!
I apologize greatly for this - I don't have any pictures. I'm sorry! I was too busy snuggling with puppies to take pictures! And they were darling. About a week from being adopted, these 6 little french bulldogs were darling and so fun! My friend had one last gathering in another friend's backyard for us all to go and meet the puppies before they go to new families, and I enjoyed every second of it. One puppy just snuggled with me while I stood and chatted with some friends - he was in heaven. And so was I. And later, I went and sat next to a friend on a couch on the patio, and suddenly we had three little puppies sleeping on top of each other, between my friend and me, with two of them resting their precious little heads on my leg. They had worn themselves out running around the yard and tackling each other. ohmygoodnessicouldnotcontainmyselftheyweresoprecious!!!!!! I loved them.
--------------------
I went to the Outer Banks in North Carolina for Memorial Day Weekend!!
And enjoyed another lovely Duck Beach experience. I hate to keep failing to live up to expectations of some of my family members regarding this annual holiday excursion, but I just don't use that weekend like the young ones do in the documentary they made a few years ago (my first year going down there). But I enjoyed a rather relaxing weekend of sunshine and warmth. I wasn't sure how the weekend would go beforehand, as it was chilly and rainy, but once we got there, the sun emerged and warmed up our lives, and it just warmer and prettier every day. One year, I'm going to plan my vacation days well enough that I can take some extra days off to enjoy the beach longer. Because it is gorgeous. I mainly played volleyball and bean bag toss, sat in the sun for a bit (on and off - I'm not good at just sitting or laying out, I get antsy too quickly), enjoyed our house's private beach access (we're such VIPs), and got a good tan to start out the Summer. And now, the Summer season is on! Hooray!
---------------------
I've been playing sand volleyball whenever I can!
And I want to play every evening! The first night I played this season, it was a little chilly in the sand, and the sprinklers came on near the end, but we played hard and it was a lot of fun. And then playing down at the beach was just fabulous. The sand was so soft! The sun was so warm! The breeze was just cool enough! I spent my whole afternoon/early evening yesterday playing as well - totally beat the errands and to-do list I had planned to do. I can go another day without groceries. I {heart} volleyball.
---------------------
I sure can't think of anything else I've done lately. Other than BIRTHDAY PARTYING IN CHICAGO! But that deserves its own post (which means you might get it in July...), and Instagram documented it decently well - not my best, but not my worst instagramming. Anyway, I'll re-live that weekend with you another day. Let's get back into the swing of blog things one step at a time. My lazy, Summer-crazed self can only do so much. But Ben, this post is for you - thanks for tough love texts this week to push me back to this blessed autobiography/public journal/random hangout that is my blog. Let's not wait so long to see each other again, shall we?
I feel like I've been incredibly busy lately with different activities, though, so you'd think there'd be something to say.
Not really.
My words are dried up at the moment - I'll call sunstroke. But in a slightly dry, to-do list sort of way, here's what I've been up to in the last month and a half:
I went sailing!
I've gone twice now, once when there was no wind at all, and once when there was quite a bit of wind. Sailing is easier when you have wind to take you places, but it certainly is relaxing just bobbing in the water when there's no wind at all, so I'd say I really liked the actual sailing that happened the second time, but I don't regret that first, calm sailing experience at all. Actually, now that I think about it, the only similarity in my two sailing experiences was the type of boat; otherwise, everything was different. The first time I went sailing, it was me and my two roommates, with no wind, at 1pm on a Saturday. Just the girls lounging on the river. The second time was Friday evening, with 6 dudes, and lots of wind to take us zigzagging back and forth across the river. It was a lovely sunset cruise, and I'm mostly just glad we didn't tip over - and we picked up a fishing rod! Sorry buddy who lost it out there originally, but I don't think you'll be getting it back. It's a pretty nice rod.
And I want to go sailing all the time now.
-------------------
I went to a reception at the Australian Embassy!
Some embassies are super smart and realize that the best way to get meetings with Congressmen is by becoming friendly with the Schedulers. While we don't necessarily make the decision about whether we schedule a meeting, we certainly control how a request is presented and where to put you on the schedule, so it helps to be really nice to schedulers - FYI for anyone thinking to request something of one of us in the future...
The Australian Embassy decided to follow the direction of the Canadian Embassy and they hosted a reception specifically for Schedulers - this is exciting for two reasons: 1. we rarely get invitations directed to us, for us. So this one, like the other rare invites, have to note explicitly, "schedulers, this invitation is for YOU, not your boss!" Awesome. And, 2. unlike other staff who mingle frequently with their counterparts in other offices, schedulers are kind of stuck to our desks, and we prefer emailing to any other form of communication (it's nice to have a paper trail...), so we don't mingle as much. So it's nice to have a chance to actually meet people. I can't say I did meet many new schedulers at this reception, but the opportunity was there. And that's a good start. And I did meet a few Aussies with really great Aussie accents. And they had some delicious macaroons. So the reception was a success.
--------------------
I went to a puppy party!!!!
I apologize greatly for this - I don't have any pictures. I'm sorry! I was too busy snuggling with puppies to take pictures! And they were darling. About a week from being adopted, these 6 little french bulldogs were darling and so fun! My friend had one last gathering in another friend's backyard for us all to go and meet the puppies before they go to new families, and I enjoyed every second of it. One puppy just snuggled with me while I stood and chatted with some friends - he was in heaven. And so was I. And later, I went and sat next to a friend on a couch on the patio, and suddenly we had three little puppies sleeping on top of each other, between my friend and me, with two of them resting their precious little heads on my leg. They had worn themselves out running around the yard and tackling each other. ohmygoodnessicouldnotcontainmyselftheyweresoprecious!!!!!! I loved them.
--------------------
I went to the Outer Banks in North Carolina for Memorial Day Weekend!!
And enjoyed another lovely Duck Beach experience. I hate to keep failing to live up to expectations of some of my family members regarding this annual holiday excursion, but I just don't use that weekend like the young ones do in the documentary they made a few years ago (my first year going down there). But I enjoyed a rather relaxing weekend of sunshine and warmth. I wasn't sure how the weekend would go beforehand, as it was chilly and rainy, but once we got there, the sun emerged and warmed up our lives, and it just warmer and prettier every day. One year, I'm going to plan my vacation days well enough that I can take some extra days off to enjoy the beach longer. Because it is gorgeous. I mainly played volleyball and bean bag toss, sat in the sun for a bit (on and off - I'm not good at just sitting or laying out, I get antsy too quickly), enjoyed our house's private beach access (we're such VIPs), and got a good tan to start out the Summer. And now, the Summer season is on! Hooray!
My friend drew this in the sand the day we left - Duck '13, QUACK! This is our year!
I made this crossword up with all the bananagrams tiles while we all played a game akin to charades at the house one night. I apparently don't sit still very well on vacation these days...
This picture doesn't really show you much, but I really just wanted to convey how beautiful the nights were on the back deck of our house, overlooking the ocean. Full moon! So many stars - I miss those stars...
I dedicate this picture to my mother. Fish tacos - this place is the go-to spot for all Duckers in search of deliciousness. I actually got one fish, one shrimp taco (who am I?!). It was alright. No taco bell, but whatever.
I've been playing sand volleyball whenever I can!
And I want to play every evening! The first night I played this season, it was a little chilly in the sand, and the sprinklers came on near the end, but we played hard and it was a lot of fun. And then playing down at the beach was just fabulous. The sand was so soft! The sun was so warm! The breeze was just cool enough! I spent my whole afternoon/early evening yesterday playing as well - totally beat the errands and to-do list I had planned to do. I can go another day without groceries. I {heart} volleyball.
---------------------
I sure can't think of anything else I've done lately. Other than BIRTHDAY PARTYING IN CHICAGO! But that deserves its own post (which means you might get it in July...), and Instagram documented it decently well - not my best, but not my worst instagramming. Anyway, I'll re-live that weekend with you another day. Let's get back into the swing of blog things one step at a time. My lazy, Summer-crazed self can only do so much. But Ben, this post is for you - thanks for tough love texts this week to push me back to this blessed autobiography/public journal/random hangout that is my blog. Let's not wait so long to see each other again, shall we?
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