prologue

we are back.

we are alive.

i am quite sick. i am starting to realize that hey, maybe i can't go to the country and not sleep and run around and have a great time like normal people. i can't live like that without paying a huge price. the price being my ability to swallow or maintain normal body temperature.

the other three are presumably fine--tired, sunburnt and cranky--but fine.

unfortunately our fish (phish) has died as a result of leaving him without food for four days.

it was a sad welcoming party, watching old Langhorn flail around and attempt to eat. he suffered through the night and we prayed, prayed for his quick recovery.

but today, when we came home from work, we saw him. belly up and floating. d-e-a-d.

more on our adventures soon (when i get some pictures) but i will say this:

amazing. hot. sweaty. dirty. stinky. awesome. bruce springsteen is way hot for sixty. and joy.

and don't ever--ever--fall in a port-a-potty.

update--while writing this, i heard a flush. i called out "brenna?" in my sick voice (my sick voice is known for being very whiny, raspy and annoying). she then informed me rather nastily that she just gave "our" (re: hers) fish a burial at sea. rip langhorn (or whatever his name was). rip.