So, moving on...
We took a trip up to Bear Lake where my brother and sister-in-law live. My dad (who lives in Nebraska) was in town visiting them, so it was the perfect opportunity to visit. It also happened to be Rasberry Days - a special weekend event held every August in Bear Lake that brings in thousands of visitors. (Thousands is a lot in Bear Lake)
On our way up we stopped in Provo for a picnic lunch, and to give Weston a chance to roam around and get some of his pent up energy out!
Aahhhh, Provo. It brought back (as always) so many happy memories for both Jason and me. To get out of the scorching heat alone was divine. Everytime I drive through Provo my mind is flooded with memories of roomates, classes, and endless good times. I did go through some hard times there, but the good memories are so abundant and overwhelming that everything else is crowded out. I always leave with a keen sense of longing. I don't long for being single, and I certainly don't want to turn back the hands of time. However, Provo never ceases to elicit a sense that I want to return to some of the things I hold most dear - friends that I have lost contact with, good-old-fashioned carefree fun (is it possible to be carefree as a mom?), the constant intellectual stimulation and growth offered by my education at BYU... the time to be social and silly and soak in the beauty of the place.
Anyway, while at the park we thought Weston would want to head for the playground. He took off in that direction, with what seemed to be some determination. We soon realized, however, that he was headed for something else. It looked like he was off to be with the huge group in the orange shirts. He is, after all, a social kid. It turns out we were wrong. He was actually after a ball just beyond the group of people that he had spotted from clear across the park. That's our boy!We finallly coerced him over to the park where he enjoyed a mid-day swing in the fresh happy-valley air.
We were finally on our way, but not after one last cute pic: We were thrilled to arrive at about 5:00. Here Weston is, talking to the dog shortly after arriving. I wonder if Chaco (the Border Collie) understands Weston-ese? Because so far, we don't!