I just realized it's been over a year since I've blogged, and that one of the few things I posted last year was on the Fourth of July. I'm either more patriotic than I think, or the long weekend just makes me feel like I have permission to do something for no reason other than I feel like it.
So, I know some people like to choose words for each year. In my case, I think the words choose me. And now that we're half way through, I'd say my word for 2015 is Hermit. Maybe there's a nicer way to put it: Contemplative. Alone. Intermission. What I do know is I spent most of last year planning parties for every occasion. And this year, I've missed two girls' trips, and barely know it's a holiday until I see everyone's facebook posts at the beach or the lake. And then I think, shoot I should have planned something.
And that's when it's nice to have friends who also don't plan. Because you can be at dinner the night before and someone says, "Hey, want to shoot fireworks tomorrow?" And someone else says, "Of course." And then you get to feel like a human who is participating in life again. Or at least spend the day eating carbs with wet hair, burning things.
We also made home-made ice cream. And by we, I mean Victor. Jason bought the machine maybe a million years ago. It sat in our garage until yesterday when Victor brought it to life with a little love and $762 worth of ingredients to make the creamiest and most expensive gallon of diabetes you have ever eaten.
It was good times.
Yesterday was also Jenny and Victor's 19th anniversary, so I got them cake. I chose tres leches because it is my favorite and I am a giver like that. But when I got home, I realized it was missing an "r". And then Jason said "Maile don't you remember that Jenny is lactose intolerant?" So basically I got her a mis-spelled anniversary card that causes diarrhea. You're welcome, Jenny.
Then we spent the rest of the night eating watermelon on lawn chairs, and watching Victor, Jason and Chance try not to get their arms blown off.
And also traumatizing our dog who spent the rest of the night buried in the back of Annie's closet.
A little video by Annie, who at 12 knows how to operate all things electronic ten times better than I do.