I'm with the big dog

Years ago, Kent had a dog named Max. Max was part basset hound, part cocker spaniel, sized more like the Cocker Spaniel, but with the barrel chest of the basset hound. He was super sweet but not the brightest dog around. We knew he was getting old, so we got a second dog, Molly, thinking that we’d have two dogs for a while. Molly was mostly German shepherd and pretty big, about 75 pounds.

About a week after we’d gotten her, we took both dogs on a walk. Oh you should have seen Max—he practically strutted with his tail way up in the air, so pleased to be out with Molly. If he could have talked, we were sure he’d have been bragging to everyone: “Look at me, I’m walking with the big dog! Isn’t this the coolest?”

Anyway, last weekend when my sis was in town, she ran with me. Now you have to know this about Amy: she’s always been a hero of mine in the way she’s stayed active, climbed crazy high mountains, gone ice climbing, run marathons. She’s just amazing. I don’t know anyone else who could go run a marathon at the last second when a friend asked her to.

So there we were out running last Saturday and all I can think is “I’m with the big dog! Look at me getting to run with her, isn’t this the coolest??” I was so proud and so happy to be out there running with her.

Before we ran

Happy 50th anniversary

Today, my folks have been married 50 years! That’s a pretty big milestone, and one worth celebrating.

My sister Amy reached out to me about what we might be able to do for them, and honestly that was a puzzle. I knew getting everyone there was going to be essentially impossible—we’re pretty far flung and for one of us, tickets would be prohibitively expensive. Plus my brother’s at his annual training for the Army, and this is also the busiest time for me with my job. And a vase or picture or what have you didn't seem to be appropriate either.

So what to do?

We live in the digital age, and my parents are most definitely not Luddites. In fact, they're pretty up to date with technology. So I reached out to my brother and sisters and also my sons and said, look—if you’ll record a video of congratulations and send me pictures of our folks across the years, I’ll make a video to celebrate this significant anniversary.

And that's what we did. Here it is:

Congratulations, Mom and Dad, with love from all of us!

Good, that's settled

Last Saturday while visiting my sister Martha, along with her beau Jason and her two daughters, somehow the subject of how towels should be folded came up. Yes, that’s random and no I don’t recall how it happened. Just trust me that it made sense in the conversation.

Both men said prior to being in a relationship with their respective Dzur sister, they’d folded towels in squares. Bah, said we two sisters, that’s flat out wrong. They must be folded in thirds long ways, and then folded in half to hang or folded yet again in half to store. Much discussion over towel folding ensued and then we moved on to how socks are folded. The two men each had their own wrong method while Martha and I pair them up and fold them over from the top.

Out of curiosity today, I emailed our other sister Amy, told her the back story and asked her how she folded towels. Here is her perfect reply:

HA!! Of course I fold them properly! If you fold them in squares, then you have to refold them when you want to hang them on the towel rack!! So silly.*  

And of course she folds socks properly too. So there you go, we’ve provided our guide to practically perfect towels and socks every time.

I offer proof of my own folding methodology:

Exhibit A: Towels plus photobombed by Wally.

Exhibit B: Socks.

*Sadly my sister Amy still uses two spaces at the end of her sentences. But that's OK, I just edited them out.