700 Miles

This weekend my car travelled 700 miles.

Two round trips. 

There alone, blasting loud dance music and singing at the top of my lungs. Back with company, music less loud, hands intertwined and doing everything to keep eyes on the open road. There with company as a passenger and nothing but eyes off the road. Back alone. Alone.

Two tanks of gas, two drivers, one latte, too many snacks. So many slug bugs, a few sad tears, so many happy tears. One snoozing passenger, one bio-break. 

In between all of that driving, there was no driving. 

Three trips to the grocery store across the street because once I didn't have butter and once there was a request for ice cream that we never ate. Two walks to the local coffee shop. One walk to the golf course with three irons and one putter. Two pints at the local watering hole followed up by six samples of the brews we didn't try.  One bet lost, two steaks grilled, six half-birthday gifts opened. Three rounds of supervised handstand practice, two naps, one water spill.

One thousand laughs and three thousand calories (per day). Ha, maybe more than that when you count the Honey BBQ Frito Twists on the walk back from the bar. 

However, I can't count the "what-if's", the "how-can's", the "what-about's". The "in a few weeks", "in a few months", "in a few years". The "When you", "When I", "When we". The "take these", the "leave that".

Sorry, this got serious. Here's one last number, my 400th Instagram Photo.