7 Days of Living a Sham
For seven days I woke when I pleased (mostly). I stayed up late and drank wine as if it were my last week on earth. I lunched at The Club, ate low country traditional foods like shrimp and grits, dry rub barbeque ribs, mac & cheese, fried chicken, waffle fries, sweet potato fries, regular fries and steak cut fries.
I ate bread. A lot of bread. I had donuts. Nearly four of them.
Then, on my second day …
Every day we sunned at the club or laid on the beach, water bottles filled with chardonnay and zinfandel.
For a week we lived like a king and queen,
For a week we had it all.
For a week, my life was a complete and utter sham… …and I got the pictures to prove it.
Months ago Stacy and I were called to duty by her Mom and Dad for the critical task of minding a dog in the absence of her parents. A business trip to Italy called them away. We, in turn, spent Sunday to Sunday watching the pooch, under the South Carolina sun. We lived a life neither of us could imagine, again, in paradise.
It was heaven on earth.
It was life on the other side of the rainbow.
It was a week at Seabrook Island and it was all made possible by a hairball named Rocco.
A dog we once thought of as privileged, spoiled and the inarguable favorite child of the family. Seven short days later we learned he’s nine pounds of fluff and a hundred pounds of snuggle, chatter and playfulness.
He was so much fun, so cute and so playful it was all we could do to keep from falling into hysterics.
The result? Sadie.
Sadie will be the name of the small-to-mid-sized apartment friendly dog Stacy and I will be getting in the coming months.
We can’t wait.
Then again, check back with me in the third week of February at 11 o’clock at night when she has to be walked.
Maybe not so much.