
I had such a nice 4th of July weekend at my aunt and uncle's cabin, and this is the only photo I have to show for it (taken last night, back in the cities), because I dropped my point-and-shoot in the lake an hour after I got up north. Big fail. But I basically had the most idyllic Minnesota-summer weekend, otherwise, so it's all okay.
I took Henny up with me to the cabin, which is about as far away as my folks' cabin, but in a different direction. And on a lake. Several other aunts/uncles/cousins were there, too, and the weather was perfect all weekend long. We went for rides on the boat (with Henny in her ridiculous doggie life jacket), sat around on the dock, grilled food, and slept in tents. There would have been room for me in the cabin on the second night, but Minnesota's state parks are closed right now (thanks, government shut-down), so I've got to take camping where I can get it.
Henny was a trooper, but she most definitely doesn't care for fireworks. She doesn't whine or bark (thank goodness), but she silently trembles and looks for places to hide, which is extra sad and pathetic. I'm pretty sure she would have crawled inside my chest if she could have, but she had to settle for burrowing under my arm. I didn't even realize why she suddenly started acting odd on Sunday night until I took her outside and could hear fireworks waaaaay off in the distance, on the other side of the lake.
In other Henny news, it turns out she can swim, but she's not very good at it (she needs more ballast). She wasn't really digging the lake, but I walked her out about six feet from shore a couple times (and had my camera destroyed in karmic payback) to watch her swim back. Despite her feelings towards the water and loud noises, she seemed perfectly happy on the boat rides. Snug in her life jacket and settled on my lap, she quickly fell asleep both times.
I drove back to the cities on Monday, and I celebrated the 4th with Rob (who is house-sitting for my folks at the moment). We had veggie burgers (homemade with chickpeas!) and chips for dinner, which I forced Rob to eat outside. And when it started to get dark out, I built a fire in my parents' chimnea -- it was the first time I'd ever been responsible for making a fire, and now I get why people are always so goofily proud of themselves for it. Something very primally satisfying about that.
Oh, and I also have been picking a ton of ripe raspberries since I got back. Summer win!




















