I Have No Pictures Of This Weekend

And maybe that's why it was perfect.

***

On Friday we visited a used bookstore. We're suckers for those places, with their musty shelves and creaky floors and out-dated wisdom. Bookstores are museums, in a way.

At the glittering mall downtown I showed Brock my favorite perfume--Versace's "Bright Crystal." We didn't buy it, but I sprayed two tester strips to put in my car.

We curled up in bed with air-popped popcorn and laughed our way through Netflix re-runs of The Office. Then, what was supposed to be one episode of Downton Abbey  turned into three, and we went to sleep with Anna's singsong "Mr. Baaaaates..."  echoing in our heads.

***

In the morning, Brock played football with friends while I went running. We undid it all with RubySnap cookies before going rafting in Henefer, Utah.

A few years ago my parents gave us a small inflatable boat. They'd found it at a discount store for $15, marked down from $85 (probably because it had a hole in the bottom...).  I think you're only supposed to use it in pools, but what fun is that?

We patched the hole as best we could and took off down the Weber River. I'm sure we looked ridiculous. I channeled Pocahontas and sang "Just Around the Riverbend" more than a few times. We navigated like pros--snaking around boulders, under highway overpasses and abandoned train bridges--but the last rapid of the day (a Class III!) proved too much. Our trusty raft scraped over a craggy rock, and as we went over the falls we heard the sppeeeeeeeeeeee  of deflating air. We scrambled to grab loose shoes, shirts, and oars as the current pushed us along, our bums bouncing along the rocky riverbed like pinballs.

We hitched a ride back to our car with three stoners and their Rape Van. (Our other option was to walk the seven miles back to Henefer, so Rape Van it was.)

One of our new friends was a self-proclaimed "Ladies' Hair-Band Maker."

"Yeah," he explained. "It's a lot better than the manual labor I used to do."

"I bet," said Brock. "You probably have a lot of time to think when you're making hair-bands."

"I guess so."

"What do you think about when you're making ladies' hair-bands?"

"Um . . . just about making more hair bands, dude."

***

We ate macaroni and cheese after church on Sunday and laughed to more Office  re-runs before afternoon naps.

I fell in love with miniature eskimo dogs after Mojo played with one at Sugarhouse Park. Brock and I sat on a bench as they ran circles around us.

That night, we parked up Emigration Canyon to watch a meteor shower. We laid down the back seats of the car and lied on our backs, heads poking out the open trunk, looking up at the night sky. The inversion and clouds made it hard to see, but we both saw one shooting star. (One is all you need for wish-making.)

By the time we got home, the whole wheat bread I'd made earlier was done baking. We drizzled honey on two warm slices, washing them down with almond milk before going to sleep.

Photo Credit