Friday, August 9, 2013

Soak it in

TB and I have been trying to squeeze every drop of fun out of the summer (okay, I've been squeezing drops of fun. He's been splitting his time between fun squeezing and demon slaying in Dead Souls). The idea that summer is over too fast is pretty universal, I'd say, but all the more apparent here, when summer is basically 3 months of nice weather surrounded by long periods of either waiting for snow, shovelling snow, or waiting for the snow to melt. No harm, no foul, I love the changing seasons, but I do love to sit in the sunshine while it lasts.

I've really come to realize something these last few weeks, and I'd like to share it with you. It's a little crazy and maybe too controversial, but I feel I have to say it:

I love weekends.

So glad I got that off my chest. So brave.

We imagined this building was Hogwarts, mostly.

I've had a lot of stellar weekends this summer and I'm pretty much addicted to them. This past weekend we decided to go for a walk sans dog, so we could grab lunch and poke around in shops without worrying about Ms. Scrunchface. TB found a free bench in a park nearby and we just sat there, looking like contented lizards, faces turned up toward the sky.

Our lunch was somewhat lackluster so much so that I DIDN'T EVEN INSTAGRAM IT but the afternoon was lovely, just the same. I hate the idea of jinxing stuff but I gotta say, I'm pretty happy with life right now. I'm a little bit sentimental these days because we're coming up on Labour Day, which, as I'm sure I've mentioned at some point before, is my New Years. I continually divide my year into "school year" and "summer" and it certainly doesn't help that Labour Day weekend is also our 1-year anniversary of moving into the house. Basically, I'm in full reflection-mode, thinking about how much has changed since this time last year. Add to that the fact that it's the time of year when a good percentage of my coworkers and friends are moving on to other positions, or, in some cases, other countries, and I'm basically permanently trapped in a glass case of emotion most days. But between the goodbye parties and the farewell cupcakes, I have birthday gatherings, short getaways planned, and some great friends coming into town, which delights me in a way you might have thought impossible. And in between there are these moments of quiet reflection, making me feel lucky for this little life I've carved out.

Oh, also we saw this on our walk:

I told TB we should leave a "deposit" in it and then scribble on the note "No it doesn't. Wouldn't flush."

We are in our 30s.

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