Remembering Memorial Day Weekend

It's mid work week, I have off today, and that means tackling a surmounting list of chores and busy work so that I can sit back and relax once Saturday rolls around.  Speaking of relaxation (did you like that segue?)  MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND.  Just saying those words conjures up a lifetime of warm and fuzzy thoughts and this year we added a few more to the collection. 

Scott, Brittany, Brandon, me (and Ollie!) drove up to Aunt Wendy's old mountain cabin where we did nothing but fish, cook, eat, laugh, sleep, repeat. I guess you could add "used the outhouse with the door wide open" if you really wanted to make that list more accurate.    

Having Ollie with us - our newly adopted 11 month American bulldog - made the trip even more memorable. To watch him experience a slew of new things and conquer them beautifully, was a great feeling for Brandon and me.  You get this nervous feeling when you adopt from a shelter, like you're rolling the dice with what type of dog you'll have once you get home, but this weekend we were all smiles with pride and gratitude for the awesomeness that is Ollie, our great new family addition. 

What this weekend taught us about Ollie:   

1) He loves long car rides, but can't quite bring himself to lay down and miss the action for ONE SINGLE MOMENT.  So he tries desperately - futilely - to stay awake, but nods off in an awkward half standing-half slouching position with his face mushed against the glass. It's hilarious.
2) He loves squishing his way between Brandon and me on the bed and getting his head as close to ours as humanly/caninely possible.  It's cute for like 3.8 seconds, and then you're like - OK, get off the freakin' bed, dog.
3) He like's going fishing and on boat rides. He likes eating our bait more. 

4) He's "frienemies" with water. Once he's in, he's great - he'll dunk his head in search of ball-shaped rocks, attack floating pine cones and genuinely have a good time, but every moment leading up to that, he's looking at the water like it's some death trap intent on swallowing him up. He even walks around puddles on the sidewalk, I assume, for the same irrational reasoning.  So... we just push him in.   

5) If given the chance, he WILL, in one fell swoop, eat your entire ice cream cone.  You've been warned.  

6) At the end of a long and exciting day, he will crash on the floor and become so unresponsive that the only thing proving he's still alive are his noxious fart bombs.

Good times.  Back to my chores!