This weekend consisted of hustling back to Colorado to see some good friends get married, embrace the mayhem that occurs around wedding time, and be glad that the silver ring isn’t squeezing my finger.
Then it was a quick flight to a train, to a bus, to a brisk walk to a park where Ben picked us up in the speedboat to take us home. The “house” was anchored in the middle of Lake Union with 100,000 of our closest friends. We found a few more friends on the beach laying amongst the throngs of people and goose shit. Somehow, they were convinced to come aboard and create a party.
The rest, they say, is history.