My Memorial Day weekend was a healthy and active one, chock-full of sweat-inducing activities like baseball, running and lifting.
That is, (watching) baseball, running (errands) and lifting (pints of hard cider to my sun-parched lips.) To be fair, it was sweat-inducing, but only because the temperatures held above 90 degrees for three days straight.
Ok, so it wasn’t my most athletic weekend to date. But at least I ate well over the holiday, forgoing traditional picnic fare in favor of something light.
You’ve got to let me finish. What I meant to say was forgoing traditional picnic fare in favor of something light…ly battered and fried. (Though more often heavily battered and fried.) It’s true: my usually good habits went by the wayside this weekend as I celebrated the unofficial start of summer. Considering the sheer volume of Old Bay fries that made it past these lips at Oriole Park on Saturday afternoon, it’s a small feat in itself that I walked away from the holiday weekend with a pulse.
I also walked away from the holiday weekend with a newfound respect for puppy owners – and a surprise appreciation for my dog-free life. I was the primary caretaker of a toddler goldendoodle these past few days, and while I’ll be the first to admit she’s the cutest mixed breed in Delmarva, I’m not a big fan of the 3 a.m. wake up calls or the lunging sneak attacks – a combination of which is depicted below:
Tell me how your Memorial Day weekend compared. Unless you’re a Kansas City Royals fan, in which case, we’re in a fight.