The summer my skin turned to leather and my bank account never had a comma

Whether I'm in Central America, or good ol' Minnesota, turns out I'm chasing the sun everywhere I go. 

I went to my first music festival last weekend. I impulsively bought my ticket and camping pass off of Craiglist just weeks before, I know...so unlike me. 

Eaux Claires. It was both the best and the worst experience, mostly the best. But I could have gone without the extreme heat and massive thunder storm. Camping is fun, they said.

I have a college degree and I am a nanny. I have thousands of dollars in loans, and I have yet to fully commit to applying to "big girl" jobs.

You know that quote, "don't live to work, work to live."? This summer will forever ingrain that quote in my mind. This summer I have chosen to work to live. And I have not stopped living since June 1st. My days on Monday-Thursday are filled with babble amongst kids, rarely holding a sophisticated conversation with another adult between the hours of 8 and 5. Every other second has been filled with wildly awesome times with extraordinary people and poochies. Weekends on the lake, Thursday's in the porch, Monday nights with my sissy. 

The same weekend I bought my ticket to Eaux Claires, I bought a plane ticket to Washington DC to visit Savannah and Caroline (see basically any post from abroad to learn about these cool chicks). My dad, quietly poking me from the sidelines..."I don't mean to be a wet noodle, but how much money do you plan on having in your bank account by the end of the summer?" Two thousand dollars, I said...lol. 

It is almost August, and while my bank account is draining, I have never felt lighter and more like myself. 

In January, I died my hair red. Since then it has been every color of the rainbow...literally. And I am happy. Since May, I have been off of daily anxiety medication, and I am happy. Since June, I've gotten to kiss the same cute boy over and over, and I am happy. I have always been a big believer on spending money to make memories, this has never not worked out in my favor. I am broke and I am tan, and I am happy happy happy, boppin to the beat of my own drum. 

Beepbeepboopboop over and out,

Hp

A love letter to my dog.

(yes I know it's cliché, and yes I understand that she will never actually be able to read it.)

Last August was the beginning of what I would confidently consider the most challenging year of my life. And last August, this little poochie girl found her way into my heart. 

I adopted Bessie from my grandparents, who had rescued her from a small shelter in Wisconsin 3 years prior. We are unsure of how many homes Bess has called her own, how many litters of puppies she has had (at least 1 or 2), or even her age. 

Shortly after Bess became my partner-in-crime, we came to learn that she needed 15 of her teeth remove due to rot and decay that would otherwise kill her...an unfortunately common occurrence among Dachshunds. However, Bessie's lack of teeth has not stopped her from attempting to eat anything in sight, including, but not reduced to: crumbs, rocks, chocolate, garbage, etc. I thank my grandpa for Bessie's hefty appetite.

What parent in their right mind would let their daughter adopt a tiny dog, and then bring that pup to live in a college house with 5 other girls, her senior year of college? That's right, mine! I am lucky to have parents that have such trust in me. 

About 2 months after my time with Bessinator, I had to say goodbye to my lifelong friend and companion, my kitty Zeke. I sat on my kitchen floor with Zekey in my arms as he went up to kitty cat heaven, Moses following shortly behind him. And all the while, Bess sat not 5 feet away watching over the moment, not too close but not too far. 

Over the next 6 months, life as I knew it felt as though it was crumbling beneath me. Anxiety struck my life like a bomb. Panic and insomnia. All the while, Bess was quietly and calmly at my side. Snuggling into me on nights where I felt sad and alone, and walking along side me on days where I did not feel like getting out of bed. 6 pounds of poochie love held me together. 

To my Bessie girl, thank you for letting me be your mama. For letting me love you and suffocate you with snuggles. Thank you for pooping on the floor right in front of me to let me know that you didn't approve of the boy that I had over...and also making it clear when you have approved...and being a total dude magnet. Thanks for letting me dress you up in weird outfits (I'm really sorry...I never though I would be that kind of dog mom). Thank you for laying awake with me through sleepless nights and the month+ long period in the fort with wine and Parenthood (shoutout to my roommates for allowing the fort & supplying wine). Thank you for doing that crazy little dance every morning to help me get out of bed. And lastly, thank you for following in my footsteps and not caring where you are, as long as I'm close by.

It's ironic to think about everything that can happen in a years time. I'm not even close to near where I thought I would be, but I sure am happier than ever. 

I love you poochie, and am now an official member of the Dachshund cult following because of you. 

Cheers to the next year and another crazy ride around the sun. 

Crazy dog lady out,

Hannah 

Yes Bessie has an Instagram, and yes you should follow her: @Bessiegoes