Enjoy Not Knowing

Just another American living in Sweden

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memory lane: the fourth of july

Won’t you take a walk with me? A stroll down memory lane?

In 2013 my littlest brother graduated high school, and I crossed the Atlantic to celebrate with him and my family. I like to call him my littlest brother because I used to make a habit of leaning on his shoulder. You see his shoulder was at the perfect elbow height for leaning. But we’re going to take a left at this fork in the road and continue our stroll along memory lane in the direction of the Fourth of July 2013.

Evelina and I travelled together across the Atlantic this time, and celebrated the Fourth of July on Lake Winnipesaukee. Celebrating the fourth at the lake is always awesome. There are fireworks, boat rides, water skiing, lobster, and volleyball. It’s basically a weekend of fun, no matter what. Yes, even if the Fourth isn’t on a weekend, it still feels┬álike a weekend.

The Lake

Side Bar: That July we were actually even in Canada for Canada Day.
Which I don’t really know anything about, so let’s get back to the Fourth.

Evelina and I started the day by spending the morning at Fenway Park watching my most favorite baseball team.

Fenway 2013

Sox game

We then high tailed it up to the lake in time for fireworks.

sunset boat ride



The next day I managed to convince Evelina to try water skiing, and it went wonderfully. The rest of the weekend was full of swimming, ping-pong and puzzling.

Water skiing


Fun in the sun

Until next time!



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memory lane: nj summers

As I was saying in one of my recent posts, it sure is nice to reminisce on sunnier and warmer times come fall. With that in mind I’ve decided to do a series of five posts within which I invite you to join me on a stroll down memory lane.

When we were young my parents would take my brothers and I on a trip down to the Jersey shore once a summer. If you’ve seen the reality TV show, yes, it is exactly like that in real life, especially when you’re 9.

memory lane 1

We’d spend a week in a rented house by the beach along with my Dad’s side of the family. I remember the weeks always being full of sunshine, mastering the boogie board, sand sticking to every part of me, and chasing down the ice cream truck realizing at the last-minute that yes, yes we did want ice cream.

memory lane 2

One summer after a day of gallivanting across the sandy beach and fighting through crashing waves, my cousins and I were wrapped up in our towels, freezing, as the sun began to sink. None of us thinking to get more appropriate clothing for the dropping temperature. My cousins took this opportunity to convince me that Gatorade was made of people’s sweat.

To my credit, I did resist the lie for a long time. I really made my cousins work to convince me of this. Initially thinking my cousins were being ridiculous, and definitely pulling my leg. The thing was that they continued with such conviction that by the end of the sunset, I totally bought it. Gatorade had to be made from people’s sweat.

Though, not to my credit, this was before Gatorade started running their commercials with famous athletes sweating in color. If you think about it, Gatorade may owe my cousins millions of dollars for essentially coming up with their advertising campaign.

I don’t still think Gatorade is produced in a factory filled only with people running on treadmills with large collection tanks below them. Though I do prefer Powerade.