Happy Saturdays

Once in awhile, a girl needs a day off.  I knew it on Tuesday that I needed a day off. For some reason, the moons were aligned funny this week and everything that could have happened, did.  Patients fell, patients got horribly sick, patients had to be sent out immediately, patients died and families had to be told in person, little old men got confused and sat on little old ladies beds, nurses called off 15 minutes before the shift, nurses were late, nurses were mean....and on and on. 

So, before I ripped up my nursing license and drove to Montana where I'd live in a cozy cabin surrounded by vegetable gardens, and yarn, and dogs, and live the rest of my life not taking care of another single person, I took my day off today. 

I made my mind up lastnight over a bowl of microwave popcorn, a chunk of cookie dough from the nestle log that I cut into, and a corona. 

You need a day off once in awhile before you can really move forward.  I know that, because of how my job works, I'll probably have several days off this week.  Today though, is my do-whatever-the-hell-I-want-day-off-and-dont-you-make-a-single-gd-list-today.

It's one of those days where you don't shower until 1 PM, but when you do, you use the good shampoo and really lather up.  And maybe even repeat. 

It's one of those days where you put on whatever is comfortable, despite the fact that it doesn't really match.  And, you paint your toenails whatever color you want, because you know your dad can't see them and won't make any comments. 

It's one of those days where you stop and smell the flowers.  Like the Dahlias that finally popped up in the back.  My wedding flowers, in the perfect shade of pink.  Welcome Dahlias, stay awhile. 

Makes me want to get married. 

By the way, while we're on the subject of gardens, check out my basil......

On these kinds of days, I have to tidy up a bit.  Really, how much can you relax with crap all over the place?  For me, I can't concentrate unless the bed is made.  And the dog can't spread out as much with those blankets all over the place. 


So, hello day off. Tomorrow I'll organize, I'll pay bills, and I'll cross things off my list.  


Today, I'll read this book. 

And be happy about Coca-Cola commercials, benches under olive trees, dark rooms, tire swings, apricot jelly roll cakes, and watching it snow.  I have none of those now, but they're nice thoughts. 

Maybe I'll add to the book.  I'll be happy about 18 month old black labs that still have that new puppy smell every once and awhile, logging onto kellehampton.com just to listen to the music, green baby tomatoes, piled up cookbooks waiting to be added to the weekly menu, planning a date all day with your boo who's at work over text messages, making grown-up decisions and realizing that next October is right around the corner, owning a dog who loves each and every one of her toys and proudly displays them all over the room, a tall glass of icy diet coke, and a day full of possibilities. 

Oh, and before I forget.  I've meant to post this for the last five posts....I have found my summer 2010 song.  Actually songs.   I know they didn't come out this summer, but that never matters. 

Life is everywhere.....go get it. 

Just Keep Swimming

Sometimes, life can be overwhelming. 

Sometimes, in the midst of paychecks with a days worth of work gone to taxes, tests that serve no purpose but to waste time, dogs that are so bored that they decide to make a chew toy out of your girly tool box contents, and cars that just don't start right, you think to yourself: "When are the good old days going to begin?" 

Sometimes life just gets to you.  You work harder than you should, yet find yourself going around in circles.

Sometimes....you just have to suck it up and try to absorb all of the goodness around you.   



Like:

Monday afternoon dates.    K and I are frequently working opposite shifts during the weekend.  You know, the time when everyone else gets to sleep in, and cuddle, and have a fun couple of days? That's when we're stuck at work.  Yesterday, however, we had the whole day off and we relished in it.  Sleeping in, eating lunch around 2 in an empty restaurant while everyone ELSE was working.  An afternoon movie that we only paid 7 bucks for because K knew the guy behind the counter and he just charged us for a senior ticket.  Dollar candy and a free soda because we use to go to movies a lot more and had a rewards card.  Yes, it was a very good afternoon date indeed. 

Videogames. When we were in Seattle in June, we spent a good chunk of our time watching my brother continuously die in a videogame.  He'd log in, choose his level, and then die.  Regenerate, jump around in the game, and die.  Die a miserable, embarassing death each and everytime.  Jump, run out into an open marketplace, fiddle around on a roof-top totally exposed, and die.  It was sad.  So, we watched this over and over again, and I think I even asked to play once.  Which he responded,  "It's too hard.".  Oh yeah? Well, we got that game a couple weeks ago and we're awesome.  We crouch, we work together, we strategize, we lay low.  So there.  And, that's basically how we've spent time together anymore.  What can I say? That's what you get after 4.5 years together. 

Dog parks.  Lilly has not seen the dog park since her towel-eating-incident back in October.  Mainly because I didn't trust her immune system, but also because she was shaved like a reverse cow and I didn't want to seem like a bad puppy parent.  Lastnight, I took both dogs to the park, expecting them to be overjoyed and therefore running like crazy dogs.  No such luck.  They simply sniffed, and peed, and drank water.  Occassionally, I'd try to get them running with me, and all that got me was a juicy slobber from Lilly on less than ideal areas on my shorts. 

Storms. Mmmmmm Pennsylvania, there's a lot I don't approve of here, but storms are not it.  I love me some storms.  This weekend we had a friend over, and were just all layin around in the basement when Tropical Storm/Hurricane Badass started up.  The wind blew, the sky turned an evil gray, the rain went sideways, the Lilly dog didn't notice a damn thing, and for a second there, we weren't sure if we were about to watch trees fall down.  It was fantastic.  Sure, I had to re-stake some tomatoes, but it was a small sacrafice.

Tomatoes and Onions.  And basil.  That's what I can grow.  Everything is starting to turn into real food.  The tomato plants are producing fruits of all size and shape.  The onions are big enough to showcase in turkey burgers and salads.  The basil is out of control (and I love it that way).  Zucchini and squash blossoms are all over the place.  It is summer. 

Recommittment.  After my last post, I realized that I was feeling pretty good lately, and so I should probably focus on feeling good in every which way.  So, I bought a new journal to record my habits in, because that's the only way that I've been able to produce change in the past.  I set some goals, like recording everything I eat, taking vitamins, and walking the dog daily.  Yes, I know that sounds awful, but its been so friggin hot lately that daily walks have just not happened.  Still, the dog can only get so much exercise running in the basement.  The other day, I improvised:

Viola!  Bandana.  Keeps the sun off your neck.  Didn't really work, but its cute. 


Tomorrow.  Because, tomorrow can always better.  You can wake up earlier, eat better, walk faster, and start over.  So, for all of those "when is life going to suck a little less" and "I'm tired of being an adult" days, here's to tomorrow.



Goodnight.

Happy Birthday Blog

Last year, on July 19th, 2009, I started this little corner of my heart.  I made my mind up on an airplane flying from Seattle to Philadelphia.  I had finished a book about a famous blog and how it changed that bloggers life.  I didn't want that.  I wanted something though.  I wanted to capture my life, to challenge it, and to expect more from myself.  I wanted to infuse the essence of who I was before I moved.  I wanted to push myself to seek my own mountains out East.  I wanted to stop wasting time.

While it has always been believed that the fundamental search of human beings is for the meaning of life, what we are actually searching for, yearning for, is a feelings of aliveness. -Harville Hendrix

When I was 18, I felt that aliveness.  I had a car that was packed with camping gear, with tokens and bandanas for little kids, with clothing that could all be washed in one colorful load.  I was lean and tan and strong inside and out.  I had a job where it didn't matter what your hair looked like. We ran and we had campfires and pizza once a week.  We were able to kiss the day goodnight in the dusk everyday.  We were able to giggle with children and swim under the warm, sunny sky.  I felt alive.

And then, life happens and people come in and out of your world without warning.  And you forget what makes you really feel alive.  But, that's okay.  It's okay because every person who comes in and every person who leaves changes you.  Change is good.  It's healthy.  I know this because I do have faith.  I believe that the choices that we make and the people that we make them with are still guided by something grander.  Maybe you don't know the reason at the time of heartbreak, but if you're open and you haven't completely put up those four walls around you, you'll find your reason.

When I was 20, that part of me that I had lost started to creep back in.  That survivor in me--that was shattered from broken promises, crazy-ass red haired ladies, the stress of growing up, realizing that things aren't as easy as they make it out to be when you graduate form high school, from deaths and missed chances to say goodbye--it started to take over.  It started to yell loud things like, "Wake-up girl!  This person is not right for you and you have a future to get working on!" and "Make your own path.  Don't take the traditional way if it's not right for you!" I fought it, over and over again. 

When I was 20, I started a journal.  A journal that had no rules, no expectations.  Something honest and something real.  A journal that I put down whatever I was feeling, did not date it, and moved on. I put down those things that I was yelling at myself.  It was my way of pushing myself to feel again. To feel alive again. To feel what was lost through living.  So I wrote. 

And I started to realize the person who was writing was amazing.  This person would share this journal someday with her children, and show them that life's struggles are what make you that person you want to be.

We are born with three instinctual directives: we want first to stay alive, but beyond that, we want to feel fully alive, and we want to express that aliveness.

So. I. Wrote.  I wrote about the things that I want to do before I die.  Like learn Italian, and go skinny-dipping. And carve my love's initials in a tree. Have a real gelato. Learn how to french braid. Have no enemies. Bring life into the world. 

I copied my favorite quotes.  Like: The unexamined life is not worth living.  And: At the core of every solution to every problem, we will find a virtue. 

I became my own therapist.  I wrote down that he wasn't right for me.  I ripped it out.  I wrote on the connected, left-over part of the ripped out page that I should have listened.  I wrote that "If you can honestly say that you loved as much as you could, that you gave without hesitation or reward, that you did all that you could, then ITS NOT YOUR FAULT."  I wrote about the kind of man that I deserved.  One who wouldn't stand for disrespect, who could randomly bring me flowers.  I wrote "True love waits for me" and that I believed in him.  I believed he existed. 

And he did. 

Because, when you pick yourself up, when you dust yourself off and embrace your life, the Universe turns everything around and rushes in.  I took that journal and opened to a random page, far from where I was writing at that time and wrote to my future self, asking "How are things now?"  And things were different.  I was alive again.  I was in love again.  Here comes the sun.


The radical position that I'm taking is that Love is the answer.

But--the story does not end there.  We don't live in fairy tales and simply having love does not heal all.  You still have to push yourself and you still have to work as hard as you can.  You still have to claw your way out sometimes.  People still leave, people still taint, life still disappoints, stress is still unbearable. 

I didn't hit my lowest point when I was 20.  That heartbreak was nothing compared to that feeling of numbness that I felt when I was 22, 23 once again finding myself without that feeling of aliveness.  I had no one to blame anymore, his neglect was gone and in its place was this pure love.  And yet, I still felt the way I did. 

Because, depression is a bitch. 

Depression is a bitch because it takes everything good that you have in your life and makes it useless.  Depression is a bitch because the only way to get over it is to make the decision to get over it.  When I was 22, I felt nothing and nothing could make me feel.  I didn't have plans to hurt myself, but little persuaded me to fully live.  I craved those old feelings, but had no answers. 

Then, one late night, in a moment of clarity, I wrote in that journal.  I will leave this world in true beauty, body and soul. A promise to my future self.  To stand-up. To try.  To keep clawing myself out of that horrendous hold that depression had on me.  To not hurt myself physically.  To stop hurting myself emotionally.  To let go. To move forward. 


So I did.

You are the sculptor of your life.  You have the tools.  You have the choice to react, to respond, to run and hide, or to face yourself and to look inside.  That sounds cliche, but its true.  No matter what, no one can complete you until you complete yourself. 

I am 25 and I try to feel alive everyday.  I breathe in the day.  I write down the beautiful things that I love like Azteca salsa, Dahlias, and air-dried linens.  I listen to music like this and this. I bought a dog that brings instant happiness and instant energy.  I worked through problems with the love of my life, leaving me with the most meaningful and soulful relationship that I know exhists. I seek laughter in every shift at work.  I make lists with goals and I do a little giddy dance when I cross something off. 

I fall sometimes.  We all will.  But this time its different. 

This last year has been the most productive of my entire life.  Not because of work or school, but because of living.  Tonight, Lilly and I slipped out of the house around 9 PM, and headed to the field.  Me in a long sleeve tee and yoga pants, dangly earrings, and flip-flops.  We saluted the day and welcomed the starry sky.  We headed to the field, and we ran.  We ran like crazy people, and we smiled and laughed.  I looked to the sky and told God of the things I was letting go, of the things I was opening my heart to. 

That is living. 

Thank you blog, for letting me write this living down.

Party Like it's 2011

This weekend we kicked off our wedding celebration by hosting our own engagement party. We cleaned the house like crazy, wrote toasts, shopped for new outfits, and contemplated just how special it would be to have all of our lovely friends in one room.

And it was. 

We are very blessed to have fantastic friends, but more blessed that they each think each other are fantastic as well.  This was the first time that many of them had met each other, which can always create a sticky situation between groups of friends.  But there were no problems.  Girls giggled and talked about girly things.  Boys bonded and created crazy things to do for fun.  Girls planned future excursions and dreamed about bridal showers and the shoes they'll wear at weddings.  Boys planned future drinking weekends where they would hit golf balls in the backyard and fill coolers with ice and Ice. 

Here is the anatomy of our weekend.  


We started off the weekend with the two people who knew how to started a party better than anyone else in the world: Liz and Dan. The four of us found ourselves drinking and laughing at an outdoor bar, the only ones dancing in the joint, and not having a care in the world.  They then helped us break in the backyard when we went back to the house, stayed up late, and psyched ourselves up for the next day.

Each day this weekend became better than the one before. 

I loved dancing with Dan on Thursday and hearing him say, "I am so glad we're hanging out tonight Catherine" and "will you quiz me on CPR tomorrow?" 

I loved shopping with Liz on Friday, carefully picking through clothing and sunglasses, and squealing with each new dress we'd find.  I loved that feeling of having a sister for once, and even more than that, having quality girl time, which I find myself lacking all too often. 

I loved keeping Theresa company in the bathroom and chatting with my other sister about how everything was going.  I loved lending her products and getting a chance to finally catch up, after weeks of phone tag. 

I loved finally seeing Katie after 4 years and again feeling like nothing had changed.  As with our phone calls over the years, we picked up right where we left off, like no time had passed. 

I loved opening up to Jon and disguising how much I adore him by telling him he needs a woman to adore him.  I loved letting my guard down and giving our best man a kiss on the cheek, which is what I should have done all along. 

I loved being the person to open the front door when Randy showed up, surprising everyone.  I loved watching his presence and energy take over the house and recharge everyone he saw.

I loved that despite the miles, my brother took the time to call me and check in. 

That is my wedding party.  These are my rocks. 


And what a beautiful bunch we are.

Thank you to Sammy's for creating the perfect meals.  Appetizers of Italian meats and cheeses, bruschetta, caprese salad, and zucchini marinated in tomatoes and yumminess. 

   

My girls mean to the world to me.

Kudos to K for the amazing candid shots.  You rock babe. 

And you boys are pretty amazing too

Studs.

But us girls?  We knew how to get the after-party started.  Slipping away from the boys in our getaway car, and stopped in at the FireHouse for a quick nod to my home state.

And the rest is history. 

Best friends made pacts. New friends formed lasting bonds.  Boys developed bromances.  Drinks were poured for each other.  Stories were exchanged.  Memories were created.  Advice was sought.  Love was shared.

The cycle was repeated the next night. 

We were drunk not off of mudslides and long island ice teas, but of anticipation for next year.  For Seattle. For a wedding. For more memories and more chances to share what we have with the people around us.

We were drunk off of life and the love that it constantly offers us. 

So here I am, thousands of miles from where I was created and born. Thousands of miles from where I grew up and from where I thought the only friendships for me exhisted.  Missing my home, and missing my family, but watching my life and my capacity to love grow more and more.

Thank you my loves.  Thank you for this weekend and for the times to come.  

Create an Outdoor Oasis

CHECK.


After two years of digging and pulling, of raking out weeds and rocks, two years of dirty knees and aching backs, we have the backyard of our dreams.  The backyard of our dreams that we could possibly have with our limited budget.  

This may have been the biggest goal on my summer to-do list.  Finished just in time for our party.   


Check it:

 

Vegetables, flowers, lanters, candles.  Reds, whites, oranges, pinks, whites, blues, greens.  White lights and stained glass lights. 

My new garden oasis.

Random-ish

K asked me today when I was going to post again, and so here it is.  Although, I just have snippits of things to write about since I've done nothing this week to further my life experience.  

The backyard is complete.  Like totally done with the exception of a few lights I need to string and some citronella candles to scatter.  Oh, and a firepit to stock.  Because, baby, we're partying like it's 2011 on Friday.  Yep, our party is about to go down.

This backyard bit has been two years in the making.  I'm not sure why we decided to tackle K's backyard.  The last owners were crazy.  That's probably why we started.  They were hoped up on something with the word ecstasy in it because that backyard was stoned.  No really, rocks everywhere.  Rocks and railroad ties.  Rocks and railroad ties that were concreted into the ground.  And evergreen bushes with no purpose except to grow very deep roots that allowed me to have amazing biceps about a week after their removal.  And did I mention rocks?  Red rocks, white rocks, black rocks, grey rocks.  SO MANY ROCKS. 

Two summers ago we dug everything out.  Last summer I took some of the leftover bricks and formed a garden bed and I grew a couple of tomatoes and too many squash and some nasturtiums. Bunnies didn't touch it.  It was a half decent attempt at a garden.  And I didn't even live here yet. 

This summer, it was my project.  We gutted some more, I made more beds, we introduced more vegetables, and more flowers and the bunnies loved it.  So did the groundhog. 

Last week, by the grace of God, we finally got sod put in, and now there's a lush patch of grass growing.  We put mulch down and its looking pretty fine.  Yesterday, I finally finished.  I filled in the gaps with perennials and annuals. I tied everything together color-wise.  It's beautiful.



But, I'm not going to show you yet because there are lights to put up and candles to light and firewood to stock and it's not yet the garden oasis that I want it to be.

This little guy was in our front herb garden yesterday.  I'm not sure where the front of him is.  He's colorful and obviously has good taste.  That's all.  I just wanted to share that. 

Since company is coming tomorrow, we've been doing what everyone does when company comes---clean like crazy, move furniture around to improve functionality, and hang pictures up.  We do this because we want it to appear like we have our crap together.  We do this because ultimately, our guests deserve that extra effort that we don't do for ourselves.  So, we've been doing all of the above. 

I rearranged everything in this basement, moved some stuff to the storage area that's adjacent, and even made myself a half-decent dressing area in there.  Lilly's cage is also in the storage area next to my desk.  That sure does free up a lot of room.  I have to say----I love the new arrangement.  It's so flowy.  It's so airy.  Now, the tv is along a wall and not the small window in the room. 

Which is why we were able to wake up to the fresh air and the rain this morning.  That's a great way to start the day.  Since I'm a Seattle baby, that's a comforting noise.  I'll gladly fall asleep and wake-up to the rain falling any day.  

I think Lilly likes the new arrangement too.  Now she can proudly look-over her domain. 

Starting tomorrow, this basement will be packed with some of the people that we love the most in this world.  We will laugh and talk. We will play rousing games of Catchphrase and Cranium where we will display our talents of reading each other's minds.  We will eat too much and drink too much. We will talk about weddings.  We will talk about Seattle.  We will look at pictures and take new ones.  We will talk about old memories and make even better ones.  

I am a lucky girl.  

Our Tom Douglas Smorgasborg

I mentioned once that Harrisburg is lacking in the culinary department, and that ultimately, I crave me some Tom Douglas.   


So, we went all out in Seattle, hitting four out of five of his restaurants (sorry Etta's, we wish you weren't all the way at Pike Place).  

And I took pictures of it all.

Starting with Dahlia Bakery, where we waited for the Hotel Andra to get it's act together and check us in, by dining on a quick lunch.  Kevin savored a fish cake (no, that doesn't sound good, but its Tom Douglas, so it WAS) sandwich and I enjoyed turkey and avocado.  The show-stopper was the bread.  So light and soft and yummy.  Ah.  Crap, I'm so far away from it all now. 

And, for a mini-dessert, mini coconut cream pies. 

Which, we hope to share at our wedding someday.

And, this plant, which I thought was just so cute.  How much do I sound like I'm playing a vacation slide show right now?

Dahlia Bakery, check.  

For dinner, we stopped over at Lola's before heading over to Serious Pie.  We've never been to Lola's for a meal other than breakfast, because really, what do you need other than Lola's breakfast?  Nevertheless, we wanted to appetizer-it-up there first. 

Now, Lola's has a Greek theme to it.  So, of course we ordered some hummus and grilled pitas, and then shared a couple skewers of prawns. 

( Okay, if I can ever figure out how to get the pictures off of my phone, I'll be able to show you.)

Then, it was time for Serious Pie, Tom Douglas's pizza parlour.  Beautiful pizza.  Thin, crunchy crust, salty cheese, some with a oil-base, some with a sauce base.  I've had their margherita pizza before and wanted to venture onto something else.  I couldn't decide whether to choose the clam pizza or the pizza with the poached egg on top, which when you cut the pizza spreads it's golden goodness all over.  Very torned, I decided on the clam because, well, it's Seattle.  That was my only reasoning.   Chewy clams with pancetta, cheese, on a crisp, oil based crust.  I ate it all.  I did.  Kevin enjoyed morel mushrooms and pesto on his pizza. 

I didn't take pictures because I got distracted by the delicious pizza. 

Lola's check. Serious Pie check. 

For brunch, K and I walked across the street and were the first in line for Dahlia's Lounge.

We shared monkey bread with caramel sauce.  Heaven. 

I dined on orange juice and a mushroom omlet with creamy cheese, bacon, smashed homefries, and a biscuit with apricot spread.

K lucked out with orange french toast and bacon. 

Dahlia Lounge, check.

But, it was not all a success.  We had one more restaurant to conquer.  Palace Kitchen, where we've never ventured before.  And for good reason, because it definitely disappointed.  But, that's okay because we have plenty to eat in our future.  Too crowded, too limited of a menu.  Good food, yes, but not the atmosphere like the others.  Yes, I feel bad putting a Tom Douglas place down.  I'll admit it. 

OH.  Did I mention?  We actually saw the chef himself?  There we were, sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Andra, waiting for them to get their act together again, and there he was, across the street, getting into his car, looking just like he should in that jean shirt and khaki vest number that he always wears (on every promo photo I've ever seen).  And we just sat there and did nothing, but whatever.  It's not like I'm going to go all Beatle-mania on him and ask him to sign a body-part.  Or like, a baguette or something.  The sighting was good enough....for now.  Ha, just kidding. 
That's one Seattle post down. More to come.

Must. Keep. Blogging

Oh my little bloggy-blog.  I've neglected you this week.  I've put you aside.  I've forgotten about you. I cursed the thought of staying up a half an hour later to write something.  I've been awfully busy, and I hope you understand. 

Last week I worked seven days in a row, and that is no freakin joke.  I'll never do that again, if I can help it.  Seriously.  Don't try it. 

Day number six happened to be the 4th of July, which in my family used to be a sacred day of worship.  Unfortunately, things change and we move away, but more importantly the people who you use to shoot fireworks into their sound moved away and it hasn't been the same since.  So, instead of eating big, juicy clams and shaking my head every time my father pulled out a 3 foot long, bright red firecracker that he hangs off of the deck, I worked.  I worked in the most po-dunk town that doesn't believe in splurging for, oh, I don't know AIR CONDITIONING in 99 degree weather.  I worked and I heard the fireworks go off, and even saw ONE on the way home.  

And my night was filled with gems like these:

Old man:  Do you know how to make Holy Water?

Me:  Yeah, you need a priest....

Old man....You boil the hell out of it!


Old man: Do you know why the Indians were here first?

Me: silence

Old man: Because they made reservations!

That's probably all he could remember. 

And on day seven, I felt like I got ran over by some kind of 16 wheeler and realized that all of this taking care of old people started to make me feel old.  My knees ached, my back hurt, I just wanted to sit in front of the tv.  I found myself saying things like, "Oy, my sciatica." I wanted to be in bed by 7.  You get it. 

Still, it's an itsty-bitsy rush to put that many hours in a week.  To push yourself and accomplish something.  To survive in the first place.  To not really see a difference in your pay-check, but doing it anyways.  To be a super nurse. 


I'm still recovering from the Seattle trip.  How can you come back from a trip and then start a seven-day work week the next day and be all refreshed?  I can't.  I can work seven days in a row, but it's not a pretty picture in the end.  It doesn't help that the fiancee also worked seven days in a row (it's not a competition sweetie), you're planning a major party in 5 days and have to deep clean everything, and you get new grass in the process which forces the pup to change her bathroom situation.  Instead of refreshing, we regressed.  You don't exercise, you don't communicate, you start having accidents in the house.  Not me personally.

And yes, I know, I haven't written a damn thing about the trip.  I have great pictures though.  You want a peek?

And..... a shout-out to the cousins who are maybe reading this now.  Holla.

Cloudy Day

I mentioned that I ran home from work yesterday, put on shorts and the ring, grabbed the camera and the dog.  Here's what we found:

Who has problems, when you have clouds like these?

Not Lilly, who was set for an adventure.

We returned to Harrisburg earlier in the week only to discover that the grass is not green anymore.  It's fried.  Luckily, Lilly and I found the only green left in the field.

And we plopped our behinds right down in that green patch.  Because, who knows how long it will last.

And that's pretty much all there is to that story.                                                                                             

Except Lilly felt like being ironic