So, a little life update since it's been a while for one of those. And I mean life, not even pregnancy, even though, yes I am still pregnant. And I'm totally mad about it. And the humidity of the last two days has me on my knees praying to Jesus that he will get this baby out pronto. So far, the heaven hotline has been a dial-tone. But don't worry -- I'm a pro crazy girlfriend and I will just keep calling.

But anyway, that's not what today is about.

This morning, Ryan took a gun to a giant hornets nest that he's been at battle with for the last month. So it all started in early August when I brought it to his attention that there was a relatively non-intrustive big ass hornets nest hanging in a tree right next to one of our guest bedrooms. He got fascinated with it and then decided it was hardcore intrusive when our ding-dong dog, George, decided to EAT one of those wasp-y things. Don't freak out -- he got a huge lip, but that was it. It was mostly hilarious. Anyway, Ryan goes to town (literally, but that's not what I mean) and brings out the hazmat suit (you know, camo hunting bibs, complete with the orange face mask) and hoses that monstrosity down with some really satisfyingly foamy bug spray. We both watched from the slider doors as the hive went nuts and bugs started falling from the sky mid-flight.

Fast-forward a few weeks to today. Ryan threw a rock at the hive and we quickly learned that the foamy bug spray did not do its job. He proceeded to throw ANOTHER rock at it. It's kind of entertaining actually. Anyway, as a friendly swarm builds into a freakin' cloud, Ryan suddenly remembers that he believes in the second amendment and collects a BB gun from the bedroom + more bug spray. Here's where it gets fun.

Now, I'm humbly folding laundry while this is all occurring, and after three quick boom-boom-booms, all three of my dogs are helping me. They want to help me so much, they follow me from room to room, shaking with excitement. I see Ryan crouching on our deck with the bug spray in hand, before sprinting back inside, slamming the patio door shut, and locking it. You know, just incase the wasps can open slider doors.

**Quick addendum: Ryan was really offended when I implied that he used a BB Gun. Apparently, I don't know firearms very well. It wasn't a BB Gun, it was a shot gun. Which variety, I don't know.

The hornets nest is officially handled, you guys. Handled.

****

A few things we're enjoying around here:

Labor day and the final hot exhale of summer.



Rootbeer in glass bottles. Coozy it up, and it feels almost like normal.








Happy FRIDAY!

So, months ago, my doctor asked me if Ryan and I had any vacation plans before the baby came. "Take a trip together, definitely," he said.

I'm not sure he meant that we should wait until I am eight months pregnant and then go camping in the remote parts of the Upper Peninsula, but that's kind of how we took it.






We packed George, a box of popsicles and an extra camera battery and hit the road. I've never been past St. Ignace, so the entire place was pretty new to me -- we hit up Sault St. Marie and rode through the locks, scooted over to White Fish Point and Tahqamenon Falls -- and I definitely saw a sign that was abbreviated to Tahq Falls and thought it said "Taho" -- which Ryan will never forget. We saw the Shipwreck Museum and then zipped over to Pictured Rocks. Finally, we stopped at this pond that is called something weird like Kitchi Ipi Kipi  -- or something like that -- and people, you can straight to the bottom some 45' down. Fish, springs, sunglasses, whatnot -- you can see it all. Naturally you're not allowed to even touch the water because it's where the holy spicket connects to every single baptismal tank in the continental US -- it's that clean and sacred.

On another note, holy mosquitoes. I think they make them bigger in the Upper Peninsula, and they have bigger families, because it was insane. My legs look like I've developed leprosy because a.) mosquitoes like blondes (for real, google it) and b.) I have no self control.

Ryan told me that he doesn't scratch his mosquito bites and they just stop itching in a few hours. And I was like, "ever?" You never ever scratch?" And he shook his head like it's the most obvious thing. I side eyed him pretty hard, and now I'm constantly watching for him to so much as rub his nose.

And then we got back just in time for me to turn 28 and get really angry about the humidity. But that is an entirely different story. Also, Ryan told me really nonchalantly that I have stretch marks. On my butt.

I'm just going to get really melodramatic and die now.



 Two tickets to Paradise. Get it?
 



Happy Friday!

I love Sunday. Really, just so much. It's very Netflix and Chill for a full 24 hours. Ryan's fishing this weekend, and I kind of feel like I haven't seen him since September because "salmon is a limited engagement, Jennifer." Anyway, my point is that it's quiet, except the sounds of the bay.

That's a lie. It's actually Munson Ave, but I tell myself that the car swish sound is lake water waves. Life is what you make it, folks.

***

I'm sure you've heard from just about every single friggin' person, it's officially fall. I'm not sad about it, but I know in approximately 37 days, I'll be doing dishes or something else completely mundane, staring out the window and imagining summer all over again. Ryan at the grill, dogs losing their marbles over a squirrel in the yard,  me doing something interesting that isn't Netflix because it isn't cold. When I look down at my feet and rue the socks and twelve layers of long sleeves, that's when I'll be sad.

And I'll exhibit some concrete sorrow and think, remember flip-flops? And t-shirts. And summer playlists? 

Sigh.

I say this every year, but I think it's so hard to get into the fall vibe, because this summer was so so so good. But seriously, this one was particularly good.

It was very work hard, play hard. It was boats and beer and grilling every night. It was working late and feeling some career accomplishment. It was being jealous of how tan Ryan gets and turning 27 and getting even tighter with this thing I believe and know to be true -- family is everything.








I usually like to wrap up with accomplishments, but I'm not sure that's what this summer was about for us. I mean, this certainly felt like a very good summer, but not necessarily event heavy. And specifically comparing to the summers before this -- we didn't move and start new lives. We didn't get married. We didn't graduate from college. Those are all things that defined summers before this. This year, we just lived and loved each other a lot and enjoyed each other's company in a place that's progressively starting to feel right.

I mentioned this last time, but we're on the official house finding journey. Which, I maybe didn't mention before, I really don't enjoy. I don't like looking for houses. I don't care to look at houses. I just want to live in one. I hate the detail part. That's not my point, I just get carried away. We finished up all the boring paperwork bank stuff last week, so now we just have to decide on something. And I think that is what will envelope next year.

I'm speculating, but I guess I'm trying to create written reminders for myself that this previous summer is not to be taken for granted. I love so much that we're in this very cool part of our lives where big changes happen fast and monumental, life changing things are on the immediate agenda. It's perhaps not the climax of the book, but it is the build-up and it's fun to know that good stuff is coming, but not know what it is yet. And I guess what makes me so happy for the last few months -- this summer was about establishing the setting. Where it takes place is written, what it is can now commence.

***

Happy Fall, ya'll.

Oh man,  I'm getting all kinds of nostalgic because it's Labor Day and I just went to get coffee and there was a sign at Petals and Perks that seemed really joyful because there was a lot of exclamation marks and hand drawn confetti, but it actually brought tears to my eyes because I overreact about everything. It said "Pumpkin Spice Lattes are BACK" -- cue the many exclamation marks.

Sigh. 

And all the basic white girls rejoiced.

Generally speaking, I'm as basic as it gets, but I'm just not into fall. Or winter. Or spring. I'm here for the summer.  And I've considered it on a million occasions that maybe Michigan isn't my forever home because I'm not sure how many more winters I have left.

But I'm totally veering off track and besides, all that said, anyone who's here knows that there is nothing like a Michigan summer. Kid Rock even sang a song about it once.

Because, I mean, just look...



****
It's Monday and if I invented a time machine right now, I would skip going back to invest in Apple or  back to 2004 to rip the bottle of bleach from my 16-year-old hands ---- until tomorrow, anyway. Right now,  I'd really just focus on getting the DeLorean back to last Friday, around 6pm when I crashed hard into Weekend Mode.

And I just want to go ahead and do it again.

All the summer things:
Beaching. 
Pier jumping. Coconut scented sunscreen. Sand in my hair for days.









****
Cottaging. 
Fishers and fish frying. Poker. Tequila. Birthday Cake Oreos.









****
Dogs. 
All the dogs. Everywhere. So many little personalities.




****
And all the other good stuff. 
Laughing. Riding in the haze on Lake Michigan. Carrot Cake. Meeting Ryan at the boat launch for the last time this summer. Final scoops of ice cream. Seeing the "Thanks for a Great Season" signs.
Happy 34th to my favorite guy!



****

You know how, when you're reading a really great book, you just can't stop. You disrespect every single morning, by staying up late to keep reading. But then, you don't want it to stop, so you try to slow it down.

That's summer.

But it ends. And you know it's going to end, so it is what it is. But there's always the chance that the next book is awesome too. And if it's not, you read it 'til it's finished and you start the next one.

That's seasons.

****

Thanks for another great season, 2015.