You all know we used to go to Maine a lot and hang out with A & M. And they split up. And now A, meaning Aaron, is out in Washington State working for the forest service.
I automatically associate the fourth of July with Aaron. The fact his birthday is butt up against the holiday has a lot to do with it. The fact that he loved to blow stuff up with reckless abandon and have a huge assed party is another.
The most party we ever had was Pig Roast 2004. There is a Flickr set of pictures from back then, as evidence here on the left this is what it pretty much looked like the entire weekend. I was using journalspace to write journal entries at that point so if you want to go back and read feel free to do so. And it totally reminds me that I need to go through journalspace and pull out my good entries. Must remember to do that... before the thing vanishes on me.
For two straight summers, we rocked up the coast with a truck load of fireworks purchased in New Hampshire. Aaron took up a collection from friends up there so we had over 400 bucks to shoot off the year of the pig roast. It was pretty awesome. We threw what I consider to be one of the best parties ever that year. I wish I could do it again this summer, but I know it wouldn't be the same. Whether I did it here in my backyard, or up there, or in Utah. It's just not ever going to be the same without Aaron around.
The best part was always the planning. The phone call in March that said "I have this crazy idea for the fourth of July..." and then the building, plotting, scheming that surrounded the execution of the plan.
We haven't heard from Aaron since March. And I've sent him several emails to touch base. I know he's remote but the last time he was stationed in this particular area he called once in a while or went to town to check email at the library. I've talked to his mom more in the past couple of months than to him.
I miss him horribly. I was thinking about the eulogy that Doug's uncle John got from his best friend, and he summed up everything I feel about missing someone, and having only memories, albeit pretty good ones, to hold on to. I sometimes feel like he and M are dead, because I never hear from them and it is really like a vast gully of sad in my heart.
Anyway. Happy Birthday Aaron. I know you're not reading this, but you know we love you and hope it was a good one, with whomever you're celebrating and with whatever methods. Be good, be well.
I miss M too, because she was pretty much my girl confidant. I have always had Carrie and my sister, but because Aaron and I were such good friends I built this great friendship with Michelle and I knew I could tell her anything like she could tell me anything. And I miss that. I'm glad I have two really good girlfriends still -- not sure what I'd do without.
Meh. Kind of sad.
Geoff wanted to name her Brady, Staley, Favre... someone has football on the brain.
We thought about Greta, Chan, Hey You Quit Crapping On My Floor!, and there were others. But Brodie seems to suit her well.
She has a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Get updated on some shots and get a physical from our vet and go forward.
And on yet another note - Amy had to put her cat Buford down this past week. A lot of my readers are friends but may not be aware. After a prolonged sickness and a series of different ailments, Buford just wasn't going to be able to sustain the strength of more medical procedures.
I believe Amy made the best and wisest decision for her kitty and for herself... I often think of myself in that position, the cat's position, and wonder if someone would have mercy on me. I wish sometimes we could actually do that for other humans if they've made their desires clear. Buford couldn't speak for himself, and let her know, but she knew for him. A hard and brave decision. I commend her for that.
Buford was a good cat. The skinniest Persian ever, in a totally vogue sort of way. He had wonderfully soft fur and was the best color ever. He would lay across the keyboard while Amy would try and type. She'd email me pictures of him doing this and it would totally crack me right up. He would do these really cute paw presses against her feet, kneading softly and purring loudly. He was an indoor cat who loved the adventure of time out doors, even in the snow! He was a stellar cat.
Amy could use your mojo. It's not expected that she get over this quickly. This was a long and hard process and we all mourn differently - I just hope for a smooth healing of her broken heart at this point. Mojo, babe. Comin' your way.
Alright -- gotta puppy wrangle now. More later.
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