This truly is a Thankful Thursday. Having grown up on the lake, I always took an awful lot of things for granted: the ability to run down to the water's edge on a hot summer's day to take a refreshing dip; the ease of hopping into my kayak and paddling around to view the brightly changing leaves on the trees; or the opportunity to haul my laser out to attempt sailing yet again. Now living in Dallas, to do things like this, I need to either ask a friend or pay to rent, unfortunately.
With only three weeks left up North, I am grabbing "lake life" happiness with both hands to sustain me for my upcoming stint in the city. Dallas does certainly have its many, many perks as well, but it is a completely different type of citified enjoyment composed of frequently dining out, attending countless yoga classes, and taking in the latest festival, play, or movie that comes to town. I suppose you can't always have the best of both worlds, but I do attempt to switch off between the two as much as possible.
On that note, here are some pictures of a recent sunset boat ride as I commemorate my time here:
Whoosh -- full-body wind!
Visiting Mom and me in the bow of the boat
Getting a little too brazen in the bow
Cruising back into home
Sunset swim to cap off the night
I am woefully nostalgic, so I tend to struggle with change. When I left Jeff and Dallas for the summer, I was sad to go, and now I am equally sad to return. As a kid, I always liked the idea of taking all of my favorite people, dropping them on a sunny island somewhere, and all of us living together in happy bliss there. Now this childish muse seems rather silly, but geographical location can prove to be rather challenging in maintaining strong bonds with family and friends. Nevertheless, as Jeff and I always say to one another, "Distance makes the heart grow fonder." I think it certainly makes you appreciate more the special time that you do have when together.
Each and every time Milton kerplunks off the dock, wildly paddling after his tennis ball, my mom remarks, "Milton's a good jumper." Well, it's the truth. He is, mostly, but not every single time. With Milton, similar to Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the pitch needs to be just right in order for him to take the flying leap. If the thrown ball lands too close to the dock, too far from the dock, on the left side of the dock, etc., etc., etc. this dood ain't jumpin'. Milton will groan and moan looking up at you with sorrowful eyes and aggravated butt wiggling wondering why you threw such a pitiful pitch quite similarly to a batter who refuses to swing at a wayward ball. Impatiently pacing with an incredulous look, Milton will demand that you, yes you, the thrower, get in after that ball because after all, it was you who basically messed up. I have one word for you -- spoiled. Most dogs would be catapulting off the dock after each and every toss, no exception, tongues lolling out, wet fur flapping, but here is our goldendoodle standing on the sideline critiquing pitches. Oh boy. He must get it from... me.
It does take just a little bit of prompting, but Milt will eventually jump in there after that darn ball. First and foremost in life, Milt's an athlete, and tennis ball is his sport. He's just stuck with me this summer as an inadequate teammate, but to quote Nike, "Milt, just do it."
When Milton's tennis ball rolls under a dresser, which tends to happen quite frequently, he emits high-pitched whines and mournful yelps until someone, anyone comes to his rescue. The loss of a tennis ball, a tragedy for Milt, is an utter and complete catastrophe that requires immediate attention as signaled by lots and lots of noise. Conversely, Milt winds himself up like a fly stuck in a sticky web on our front porch, and we don't hear a single peep.
Momma's poor baby
When Jeff saw this photo, his very first question was, "Heidi, how long did Milton stay like that until you freed him?" "Well, gee, Jeff, I don't know... He never once asked for my help!" Our goldendoodle has figured out the important things in life, and loss of a tennis ball is a far greater concern, worthy of a string of alarmed yelps, rather than tied-up paws turning blue from circulation, which you can just calmly wait out until someone takes notice. I wish my own life concerns were as crystal-clear and clean-cut as all this.
One of my major bucket list items was happily fulfilled this past winter when my brother Dave took me up in his helicopter! I had always wanted to fly in a copter, and when Dave just so happened to purchase one, it was simply serendipity!
Grinning away
Well, my bucket list item has been checked off, but I can still dream, and I have a little dream of getting Milt up in a chopper someday. I thought this would be completely impossible because when I flew with Dave, he was very stern that I should not move a muscle lest I knock, bump, or basically destroy any important device necessary to keep us safe and sound up in the air. Then at our Fourth of July party, I was speaking with Dave's buddy, Duane, and he told me that he's flown with his dog before, so now I'm thinking, Why not Milt too?
I suppose there is still hope for our goldendoodle to get a true bird's eye view from a whirligig someday too!
Early to bed and late to rise. Out of the three of us, Milton is always the very last one to be up and at 'em...! As my mom tends to say, "But Milt doesn't do anything all day! Why is he so tired?" Well, Milt Dog does stuff, an awful lot of stuff, but who are we to determine whether it is productive or not? Heck, half of what I do is probably working against productivity. The caveat with our goldendoodle is that he tends to need four times the amount of sleep that we do in order to properly function -- lots and lots of little nappies.
Sleepy doodle dog
Well, I suppose it is better for me to be waking him up in the morning rather than the other way around. Beauty sleep at its best.
A little early morning peanut butter never hurt anyone, did it?
Getting a good grip
Licking out all the yumminess
Beginning to chew the plastic to reach the creamy bottom -- This is where the fun ends!
My husband, Jeff, thinks that Milton with a jar of Peter Pan is excellent product placement for their company, and they should be paying us to advertise. My initial thought was that people would think, "Peter Pan, so gross that only dogs will eat it." Conversely, Jeff's take is, "Peter Pan, so tasty even dogs like it!" Well, when Peter Pan does eventually approach us about using Milton in world-wide commercials and print ads, maybe even somehow radio (woof!), we will go with the second thought -- Dogs, goldendoodles in particular, love them some Peter Pan!
Milton made the berry picking cut yesterday, and he was oh so giddy about it! My sister and her boys did not join, which means Milton was in because the littlest boy does not quite see all of our goldendoodle's "charms," like sloppy kisses, protective barks, and clean-up licks. I am confident that the Milt will win him over by summer's end -- He tends to have a downright happy effect on most people.
Like a duck
At the land, Milt had an absolute ball scampering down the trails, wading in the pond, scavenging in the underbrush, and he even barreled through the cornfield at one point -- a secret force rustling the ears as he scurried along! Mom and I were hard at work gathering loads of berries while the Milt frolicked. What do we do with our bounty? Well, we make muffins, of course, but, more importantly, we bake PIE!
Yum!
I decided yesterday that I am partial to blackberry picking rather than pecan gathering because once you pick the berries, you are done -- no shelling required! Dump a cup of sugar on the little black beauties, roll out a crust, and you have a refreshing summer treat! Baking a pecan pie, though, requires quite a few more ingredients, included the dreaded corn syrup, and a very steady hand to delicately float the pecans on top of the sickly sweet mixture. Most importantly, though, both desserts make superb homegrown gifts!
