Maisie asked why I don't blog anymore. She and her sister have spent countless hours reminiscing over stories and embarrassing photos on this blog. The Boyd Babes page is apparently all the rage at the I-35 8th-grade lunch table.
Well, I certainly can't let the fun stop there.
Where to start- how bout 4th of July weekend. We were bummed to not attend the Green pond festivities but we didn't think Covid was invited to the party. So we crashed in on Denny and Cindy instead. Mike was naturally feeling some symptoms, but our other Covid patient was good-as-new the entire time.
Oh, sweet Maisie.
Having just returned from Alaska - and a week that brought plenty of other surprises- I was looking forward to a weekend of calm. Maybe a couple bottle rockets and snaps, reading a few chapters in my book, pairing some smoked salmon I picked up at Costco with boxed wine, and catching up on some Dateline podcasts while I walked the dogs.
Molly, on the other hand, wanted to make up for not going to the Pond Party by keeping us constantly busy. Somehow we ended up at the Raccoon River beach twice. This is where Maisie always confirms her attraction to non-white boys. The water was cloudy, with spotty areas of foam, a cigarette butt, warm and cool spots, dogs, and a couple I questioned a conception may have been taking place.
But when the sun went down, we stood on our gravel road at the top of our drive in the darkness of a hot July night watching public firework displays erupt in the sky which seemed to reach across the counties, one dog at our feet with the other hiding in the garage basement completely terrified for his life as one of my daughters actually squatted and peed in the middle of the road during the show.
We didn't get to celebrate at any big "parties" as many do over the holiday weekend, but the patio fires at Grandma and Papas, dog training, bug bites, sparklers, and a special "fountain firework" were our birthday gifts to America this year.
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