A Walk to the Beach

Last weekend, Phoebe and I spent 2-3 hours at Titlow Beach and it was good reminder that some of the best things in life are a little rough and understated.  Our favorite part of the beach seems the least desirable at first glance - it's narrow and gets flooded at high tide, there are giant cement slabs everywhere, a decaying beach shelter, and train tracks running all along the side.

But it's also quiet enough that we can roam for hours without disturbing anyone, where giant driftwood logs get brought in by the tides (great for jumping over), crabs hangout in the hundreds between the cement slabs, dozens of big purple starfish hang out in the shallow water, and a small stream provides fresh drinking water to my thirsty pup.

Phoebe was so confused by the diving Scoters. Where do they goooo?

She'll jump logs all day but simply refuses to do this.

Five seconds later she bashed her face into my hand trying to eat it.

Reality Check: only 24 hours in every day

Originally, my plan for moving to Dubai relied on the assumption that I could do everything simultaneously within 6-8 weeks.  I've moved myself plenty of times and this was a longer prep period than I've had in the past.  So what if I've gotten married, bought a house, and it's my first international move as an adult.  It can't be THAT much more work, right?

It has come to my attention that I am too optimistic  over zealous  delusional.

Theoretically, my nice little daydream would've worked if everything went according to plan (which it didn't) or I had 32 hours in every day (which I don't).  But life isn't aseptic - it's late, messy, and full of spillover.  Instead of just allowing myself more time, I've been getting more and more stressed, and less and less sleep (it doesn't help that Phoebe barks everyday at 3am).  A fine recipe for one insanely grouchy Heather.  

Me lately.

Also me, if you're unlucky enough to ask me anything.

Inevitably, I had a mini meltdown while running errands yesterday (sorry Dad).  And I realized how ridiculous this is.  So for Valentine's Day onwards, I'm going to focus on 2 or 3 things at a time instead of 8.  I'll be done when I'm done. That means if you're waiting on me for something, I'm probably going to need another week (or 2 or 3).  I know, romantic right?

Oh and uh...sorry if you've called me in the last 3 weeks and I've been cranky. 

Still friends?

When we were young: Passport photos

...and skinny.

I found these old passport photos while trying to decide what would make good fire starter  (remember?). 

I was eighteen and Steve was nineteen, so that means these date back 13-14 years.  Funny how it simultaneously feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago. Ugh, when did we get so old?

Oh so thaaaat's my natural face shape.

Things we do for love: Dogs on Planes

Sending a dog to the UAE is no simple feat. It takes a lot of planning, a lot of people, and a lot of card swipes. I got several quotes early on so we knew it was going to be pricey.  And once we realized the total cost we knew it meant leaving most of our belongings behind (because leaving Phoebe is never an option).

But my head spins each time I get another bill - even though I knew how much it was going to cost months ago. Yesterday, we received the price for her plane ticket from SEA to DXB. 

It's $5,010.

2016 is the year...

...that we will start itemizing our tax returns. I did our 2015 taxes tonight and admittedly, I was feeling pretty good about myself for getting them done early.

And then I saw how much we would OWE and it wiped that smug little smile off my fache. It's finally happened - we've crossed into big-kid land where we owe the IRS large sums of money at tax time. 

*sigh*

Me.  Right now.