The Cabin

I just realized that the last post didn't really feature kids, pets, OR relatives. Talk about a trifecta. Sheesh. Guess I better keep the titles random enough to fit my -er-randomness.

While there were many high points to this trip (like dodging storm clouds at 10,000 feet in a single engine Cessna-stay tuned for the return flight!!!) there was one really low point. Among my many quirks I will confess to an absolute fetish for the stars. There are few things in life better than laying under a sparkling blanket of shimmery magnificence and just holding hands with someone you love. I don't know if this is because I grew up in MN where on a good night you can see satellites, so many constellations you go cross eyed, fiery northern lights, and even a planet or two.

I don't know why, I just know I have a thing for tiny lights. This may explain my sincere desire to be buried in a coffin draped with white twinkle lights. Call me a crazy redneck, but I think having Christmas lights up all year round is nothing short of genius. So you might imagine that the Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays. Patriotism, classic tunes, and light shows...what more do you need?

Well, actually it turns out that the stars are not the most important part. Neither are the fireworks, actually. It turns out I'd rather be holding hands in the dark with not even a single twinkle light than have the entire sky ablaze in glory. Turns out it isn't the stars I really miss at all. Funny how sometimes you can get it all wrong. I guess you could say that until Hubs comes home the stars are just not that bright.