How is today already Tuesday?
And why do "long weekends" always feel so damn short?
It literally feels like it was just five minutes ago I was picking
up Chris from work last Friday
up Chris from work last Friday
ready for the nine hour drive to Nebraska...
As it turns out,
everybody else in Chicago was getting out of the city for the weekend as well.
It took us probably sixty minutes to drive 15 miles.
I finally had to just turn my GPS off because each minute that was added
onto my estimated arrival time made my blood pressure rise higher and higher.
So here's a brief review of my weekend in pics:
Rode seven hours with two dogs on my lap.
Harlow and Marley.
Har and Mar.
Got to Chris's cabin around 1:30 a.m.
Watched as Chris transformed from a 25 year old to a five year old
being back at his old Summer Haven.
He was so excited to fish Saturday morning he woke up by 7:30 a.m.
to get his pole ready and start "organizing his tackle box."
The last time I attempted to organize a tackle box
I accidentally got a fish hook stuck in my lip... I thought it was a gummy worm!
But that's a story for another time.
Anyway,
I left Fremont Saturday morning around 10:00 a.m.
to return to my summer haven.
A little gem I like to call Casa de Wolfe
in the paradise town of Norfolk.
This is the view from my bedroom, pretty nice eh?
I'm lying.
The "view" from my bedroom is now blocked by the
large elliptical my parents have placed in there.
And then the rest of the weekend was pretty much spent
playing in the pool,
and watching and photographing
Knox's every move.
'I don't know how Jade gets anything done.
Or any mom for that manner.
He is always on the move.
Running, walking, falling, eating, crying,
screaming, laughing, pooping, dancing.
Sometimes all at once.
I think it's this sick game he invented where he
literally attempts to go through every action (and emotion)
listed in the dictionary in less than 24 hours.
He usually wins.
And I just sat back and watched.
Toward the end of all of the fun
I was reminded what I don't miss about Nebraska-
tornados.
Half way through our wonderful barbecue the sirens started blaring
and wall clouds were moving in on us.
Naturally, if you grew up in tornado alley
you don't run to the basement when there's a tornado warning.
You run to get your binoculars.
As the rest of us were hightailing it downstairs,
my dad stood outside on a stool trying to get a glance
of the tornado tail before it hit ground.
Luckily, it never did.
And then boom it was Monday morning
and it was time to drive back to Chicago.
And here I am.
Chris talked me into leaving Harlow at the lake with his parents for the next three weeks.
It's very quiet here without him.
I don't know what I was thinking.
I might drive back this weekend and pick him up...
