Dollar dogs & unmixed blessings

It’s the simplest things that lodge in mind and promise to form happy memories for later retrieval, these days. And it doesn’t get much simpler or happier than volleyball without a net in the new pool with Younger Daughter, followed by a mild carefree night out at Greer under a full moon in June with Older Daughter. At her request.

She drove, until it was time to parallel-park (& save $3 on parking). Gotta work on that.

Then we were ridiculously, disproportionately delighted to discover at the concession stand that it was Dollar Dog Night. Or I was, anyway. We managed seven between us. One of us had four, she claims it wasn’t her. Draft Sam Adams, for the price of just seven dogs. Icee for her, for slightly less.

Easy conversation about nothing and everything.

Never mind that the Zephyrs blew out the Sounds, I didn’t care if I ever got back. I’m filing it.


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