I am ashamed to say that I have lived in Washington my entire life, and until last weekend, had never been to the Gorge. I've probably driven by it 499 times and peed in the Columbia River right below at least 100 times if that counts for anything? Actually, that just makes it worse, so nevermind.

When I found out the Zac Brown Band was performing at the Gorge in September I squealed. And then in recently-implusive-Nicole fashion, bought two tickets thee second they went on sale. I didn't care who ended up with the second ticket and would have gone alone if I couldn't bribe any of my friends to join me. Turns out bribery wasn't necessary. When I was home in August I mentioned the concert to Mic and Melissa and begged and pleaded that they go with me... Melissa said no. Balls! But Mic wasn't cool with that. He called me as I was headed out of town--actually I was all alone at the single most stressful place on earth (the IKEA warehouse), sweating, and struggling to maneuver two carts of household goods to the checkout line. Terrible timing, but we came up with a terrific plan... long story short: Mic, the sweetest husband ever, surprised Melissa for her birthday with a ticket to ZBB (my extra one), and my apartment is now partially decorated. I am still accepting house warming gifts, by the way; wine will do. 

So. The Gorge. More breathtaking than I ever imagined. I'd hang out there even if there wasn't a concert going on. But the concert itself was phenomenal. I am always wary of live music because sometimes you find out the band belongs in a studio--and nowhere else. Zac Brown Band belongs at the Gorge. Their music reaches a new dimension in person, like they are singing or strumming straight into your country soul; the violin intro to Free even moved this girl to tears.

How can September already be half over?! The sun is disappearing entirely too early in the evening, Week 1 of the NFL is in the books (the Seahawks are still terrible), and I'm about to rehash my summer. What?! Life can slow down any second now--I'm ready. 

Now that I have that out of the way... you know how I always say my birthday should be a holiday, or at least be noted on the calendar like Rosh Hashanah or National Donut Day? Well, I kind of got my wish this year. Instead of parking my birthday girl butt in front of two monitors and daydreaming of key lime cupcakes like corporate America would have preferred, I spent the day with my beautiful friend Holly, preparing for her wedding the next day. Of course, the day was all about her, and rightly so; I'm going to have more birthdays than Methuselah while Holly gets one wedding. But throw in a mani/pedi, thoughtful gifts from the sweet bride-to-be and her in-laws, along with the actual consumption of key lime cupcakes (and Coors Light) at rehearsal dinner, and I still felt like the lucky birthday girl--that didn't have to go into work.



Now, I know that people always rave about how lovely their friend the bride looked on her wedding day and how great the ceremony was, yada, yada, yada. Most of the time that's true, but if we're honest, there are times when that is a flat out biased exaggeration. Shout out to all the ugly brides! So while I may be biased, I rarely say things just to be nice, and I am not exaggerating when I say Mrs. Holly Snell looked absolutely stunning on her wedding day--perfect hair, perfect face, perfect dress. And perfect shoes. I am so blessed to have Holly as my friend and so glad I was part of the big day.



I had to look at my calendar just now to remember what happened to me in August. Ahhhh, of course! Two trips to the best side. What else would you expect? There really is no place like home. My backyard view of the Pacific, my soft-mouthed yellow labs, best friends, family, Snow Goose Produce, and Lake Washington. The end. 







And then there was Labor Day. Melissa and I started dreaming up a camping trip earlier this spring. We might have waited until there was only one campsite left in the state with availabilities to actually book it...Alta Lake? Okay!...but we made it happen nonetheless. I'd never even heard of Alta Lake, and when the accountant at work recounted (pun intended) childhood nightmares of this awful place, I started having second thoughts. But it turned out great. Silly accountants. Alta Lake is clean and clear, surrounded by rugged mountains and a white, sandy beach. Wait...this is Washington, right? Yep. A white, sandy beach. We hiked, we swam, we sunbathed, we drank, and oh yes, we ate hot dogs and s'mores. And Eliza grew three inches..she is getting way too big! Ugh.







I can't imagine a better way to close-out my summer. Love those Chehades with my whole heart.