So, I just returned from my delightful Minnesota retreat trip. Every year for the past four years, we’ve made this trip, this event. Only once by van (a road trip experience that I hope never to relive and that I seem unable to forget); the other times by plane or car. This year was no different: a million classes, a million events, a great deal of fish to eat, bocche ball, canoes, kayaks, too much alcohol and other, ahem, recreations, midnight skinny dipping (ok, so it was 2 am. sue me), a serious serious serious lack of sleep and, most importantly, people that I know and adore. Like, really fucking adore. I get to see many of them again in September at the Seattle event, and already we’re planning dinners, talking parties, reliving our moments of past glories (KC and the Sunshine Band live, anyone? Halloween night in Freemont Village? The creepy cab driver who wanted to spank, well, pretty much everyone?).

This photo feels like a goodbye to summer photo to me. I know, I know, it’s only August. But soon, the light will change, the leaves will turn. I will cut my fucking mop of hair (yes, I know, it’s redic), and we will all put on jeans. Another summer will go, and the rains will arrive. I will stand beneath their wet hit, arms spread, and remember these moments of stone and sun. Of love and lust and the way the moon can rise long before the sun has laid its head down to the water…

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