Yes, I have returned from Michigan. I'm still a bit traumatized over the fact that my parents are moving from my childhood home, where I lived from about five to twenty-six, to a new place.


Yes, the new place is very nice.

So the trip will be briefly reviewed in another post, but NOT RIGHT NOW.

Right now it is time to tell you that boyfriend and I were swim swimming in the pool, like fishies yesterday. And we threw the tennis ball back and forth. I seriously love playing catch. Seriously. I'm probably part golden retriever. Anyway, Spike would get the ball for us when it went out of the pool. And he'd bring it back and drop it in the water. Set it down. Push it in with his nose. Way cool trick he's got going on.

But then, on a run to get the ball, our dear wiener did what most of us would do to get somewhere quickly - a direct line is shorter than a curved one, you take the direct line- he ran that direct line INTO the pool. Belly-flop into the deep end. He went under and popped back up (he's built like a little barrel), swam with some redirection from Jer to the steps, and hopped out. I think we were all in shock, even Atticus, who was witness to the event. "Holy shit. You went swimming." he said with his little Mexican accent.

When it was time to call it quits, I let Jeremiah pull me to the stairs. He even made boat noises "Vroom vroom..." and then he made a boat grinding into rocks sound and stopped quite suddenly. Apparently he couldn't stop in time and "we hit shore" he told me sadly.

We ran into the steps.

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