This past weekend, we celebrated Andy’s birthday by finally doing something we’ve been talking about for years: renting a pet-friendly cabin and taking Riley on vacation with us.
This was our “Honeybee Hideaway,” complete with (fake) well and (real) hot tub.
We spent several hours hiking in Hocking Hills, which was shaded and lovely.
We also got to do a little shopping — mostly crafts and antiques — as well as some nature-watching.
Truth be told, we had fun, but it wasn’t exactly a relaxing weekend. See, Riley is a high-energy, anxious pup to begin with, and then you put him in a car. Add in several hours of winding, bumpy country roads, and you have the perfect recipe for a panting, whiny mess. For his sanity (and ours) we probably will not be repeating this experiment, but it was worth doing once.
Note: The hipster look of these photos was brought to you by this set of Photoshop actions that mimic Instagram. A very neat find that I had way too much fun playing with last night…
… of this:
… and this:
… and this:
… and a guest post for Writer Unboxed in which I say something a bit shocking:
Some people might view the change in my goals as a lowering of standards. For me, it’s about understanding and accepting my limits. I mean that in 2 ways. First: Neither literary acclaim nor blockbuster sales are within my control. That’s just the reality. And that’s okay. Second, and this may also be a reality: I might not be cut out to be a professional writer. After a lot of internal struggle, I realized that’s okay too.
To be honest, that post started out a bit differently. The point wasn’t just that I might not be cut out to be a professional writer, but that most people probably aren’t. However, it seemed safer/kinder to focus on my own soul-searching, and then let people see themselves in it (or not).
Also, to be clear: I’m still working towards publication. It’s just that I’ve realized publication shouldn’t be the benchmark for my happiness. If it is, I may or may not ever be happy. But if I focus on the writing, and I let that be its own goal, then I can be happy right now.
(Overcoming a mindset of 15 years is easier said than done, though.)
I hate you. My dog ought to hate you too, but he’s kind of dumb. Hence he eats your things. Hence he wakes me up at 4 AM. Hence we hurry half-asleep to the kitchen so he can vomit — a record 6 times. Hence I stay up another 2 hours worried that he’s going to get dehydrated and die. Hence I am miserable and zombie-like today.
No love AT ALL,
PS: Not that you care — because if you did, you wouldn’t make your things smell so damn good to dogs — but Riley is totally fine now. And I am going to take a nap.
Me and Riley wishing everyone a very happy Valentine’s Day! Don’t get caught up in the couple-y stuff. Just spread love. After all, it’s the most wonderful and powerful force there is. :)