Pretend That I Have A Great Title For This Post

Hubs and I are done celebrating our nineteenth anniversary.  Even we couldn’t stretch it out to a third day, so we simply ended the festivities after a fancy dinner out by ourselves on Tuesday night, and a little ice cream by ourselves, followed by a drive in the car with grownup conversations, last night.

We’re incredibly classy when it comes to celebrating around here, but we had a great two-day Anniversary Festival, even if Hubs did not buy me a diamond-encrusted tiara.

(I think he was afraid of the power that would come if I were to wear such a gift.)

And then we moved into my dad’s birthday today, so go ahead and call his phone… or honk loudly and repeatedly if you see him while you’re driving downtown.  We all kind of collaborated on a gift this year for him…

… because he got THE CUTEST kitten of ever!  She’s just eight weeks old and still unnamed, because WHY RUSH THINGS?  She’s also so adorable, no one can quit staring at her, and she even lets Thing 2 hug her with all the two-year-old enthusiasm he can muster.

Which, it turns out, is A LOT of enthusiasm.

I’m sure that pictures will follow next week of the kitten, because I won’t be able to help myself.

And… since tomorrow is the 4th of July… I’d say we’ve had a lovely week of parties around the Jedi Manor this week, and we’re not even finished yet.

In other news, the boy has pretty much lived on the golf course again this week.  He’s tanning up quite nicely in the usual FARMER MANNER, and announced that he golfed both his VERY BEST GAME OF EVER this week, as well as his VERY WORST GAME OF EVER.  That afternoon, he told me that he should have just bought an entire package of brand new balls, walked them over to the water trap, and simply dumped them all into the pond in one swift toss.  Apparently he thought it would have saved a lot of time and frustration, had he just done things that way and walked home.

But, when you’re thirteen, your worst golf game is always cured with a greasy cheeseburger and a friend who makes you laugh so hard, you’re in danger of losing Dr. Pepper out of your nose.

The following day he went back out to the course and came home shouting that he’d just golfed a score that could very likely qualify him for the US Open, and he finished the game with the golf ball that he’d started it with!  He held his arms wide and told me to go ahead and congratulate him, because HUMBLENESS, PEOPLE.

I finally decided to embarrass our teenage son by hauling my camera out to the golf course one day this week, so that I could snap some pictures of him and his friend, D, while they practiced at the driving range.

The thing about shots taken at the driving range is this:  After a while, they all begin to look exactly the same.  I suppose a professional photographer might have an eye for different angles… or maybe she’d lie down in the grass and shoot from that direction, but listen… I’ve never claimed to be a professional photographer, and I didn’t want grass stains.

IMG_5774 IMG_5763 IMG_5764 IMG_5755 IMG_5753 IMG_5746 IMG_5749 IMG_5752 IMG_5744 IMG_5756 IMG_5760 IMG_5769 IMG_5771 IMG_5773 IMG_5776 IMG_5777 IMG_5778 IMG_5784 IMG_5797 IMG_5799 IMG_5805 IMG_5807 IMG_5809 IMG_5812 IMG_5815 IMG_5813 IMG_5826 IMG_5811 IMG_5827 IMG_5830 IMG_5835 IMG_5836 IMG_5839 IMG_5832 IMG_5841 IMG_5843 IMG_5845 IMG_5846 IMG_5847 IMG_5848 IMG_5849 IMG_5851 IMG_5853 IMG_5861 IMG_5859 IMG_5872 IMG_5874 IMG_5875 IMG_5877And that’s going to do it for things around here this evening, folks.

Have a very happy and safe 4th of July… keep those sparklers away from your eyes… and we’ll see you back here after the weekend.

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