717, 716, 715, 714

Thursdayfridaysaturdaysunday.  The days are all running together, and passing too quickly for comfort.  That, and my built in colon alarm clock seems to think 5:30 is the right time to wake up on the weekend.  TMI?  TMI for sure.  Just deal, okay?

(Wednesday night... dregs from day 718)

White wine and wasabi peas.  Evening snack of champions.  

Explosions in the sky.  Fireworks on the Third of July (through the trees from our back porch, because we're too lazy to venture out).  Because we get Salt Lake's dress rehearsal fireworks display.  Or they get our sloppy seconds.  However you want to slice that.

Thursday

Kitty paws.  Hadley deeply resents closed doors.

Taping and edging.  A much better way to spend the 4th than, you know, grilling and drinking, or swimming and drinking, or just...drinking. 

Oh, that's better, here's the drinking.  Red white and blue cans.   America.

Friday

Lazy afternoon seeking refuge in the park.  It's a weird feeling when you can't go home from work because strangers are snooping around in your house, judging it.  Just buy the house already!

Salmon caesar salad.  I took what could have been the laziest meal to assemble, and had to go and toast my own herbed whole-wheat croutons and blend up some dressing.  Going the extra (delicious) mile.

Saturday

Another round of caprese grilled cheese on beer bread.  My sole motivation for  baking beer bread is so I can buy the tall can and drink the extra 12 oz.  I just really like drinking out of an enormous can - it makes me feel like a tiny person living in a land of giants - but the whole can is too filling.

Well hello there.

It's official.  We're moving.  Gotta finish off the very last bottle of Vegas wine.

Sunday

Late morning cloudy jog

I'm really going to miss these mountains

Here I come!

Well that was exhausting

The scruffiest

Pomegranate margarita.  On a Sunday!

Head-sized veggie burrito

Evening Charlie-stroll

Hurry home - storm's a brewin'.

And now it's Sunday night.  Go to sleep and let visions of sugarplums moving vans dance in your head.