Respect your Elder

Meet Tommy. He is my happy-go-lucky, awesome cousin. But sometimes I call him Thomasina, because I believe names are not something that should be set in stone. He is also one month and twelve days older, a fact of which he likes to flaunt, hence the title of this blog.)

In high school, Tommy went to one of the all-boy high schools, and I went to one of the all-girls one. He's really bad at answering phones and responding to text messages, so besides family events and showing up on his doorstep with ice cream on his birthday, the only time I saw him was at high school dances. I'm not sure if you can tell, dear readers, but I like taking pictures. So every dance I would scout him out and we would take our biannual cousin dance picture.

This is us circa 2006 at an Ursuline dance.

This tradition only fell to pieces once, when I traveled to Connecticut for a regatta instead of going to prom (not thinking to tell him) and he spent a good deal of the night searching for me. Whoops. 

We lived next door to each other our sophomore of college, and it was really nice being able to see him every once and a while on my way to class or to have a beer on the front lawn. 

He's pretty cool; I think I'll keep him.

Thanksgiving circa 2011. (This really is the most recent photo I could find...)

In college, he went through brief intervals of working at my dad law firm with me. It was always a surprise- never knowing if or when he'd show up- so I may have looked a bit like this when I saw him through my office window...

* Quenching my excitement* Hey cousin, hey. Welcome back

This week is dear Thomasina's last week at the office as he is off to pursue his first big boy job and I am sad. So I like to think of fun ways to barge into his office and start conversations, even though it is neither the time nor the place. Here is just one example:

K: So I hear you have a cookie for me.

T: I- What? No... *checks pockets* Who told you that?!

K: No one. I just really wanted a cookie.

Then he gives me boy advice and we talk about his belief of the imminent demise of cursive as a mode of writing. Of which I am not sold, since there are people out there like my mom who still teach calligraphy as well as cursive. But to that Tom looked at me straight in the face and said, "No way." After a failed attempt at trying to describe calligraphy tools, we googled calligraphy and he sighed. "Oh that's calligraphy... I was thinking you were saying she could write in hieroglyphics."

*smiles*

So long and thanks for all the fish.

Adventures at the Laundromat

So, a while back, my twenty-year-old brother was staying at our house for a couple weeks and with him came 6 months worth of laundry. At least. Assuming multiple wears... 

I am really unclear if he actually doesn't know how to do laundry, or what, but regardless, the washing would have taken like 10 hours at least if I tried to do it in our washer/ dryer at home… And so, to the Laundromat!

And what an adventure it was.

On this trek, I brought my computer to watch a preloaded TV show (because there was no wifi there) and my phone to text friends in the many hours I expected to be there. 

I emptied the car of everything that was machine-washable and the rest would be dropped off at the dry cleaner after. Six to eight rolly bins later, I had three triple-load washers filled. So I just sat back and watched TV until it was time to empty them. In the meantime, Savannah walked in. 

Long story short, we had never met.

I did not know Savannah, but our unfamiliar state did not last long. She was waiting to use one of my washers when she looked over at me and just started talking: "Do I know you? You look familiar. Where are you from? Where did you go to high school? And when?"  (I did not include my responses because they are not relevant.)

I started to make the trip back and forth from the washers to the dryers as I heard her talking to another woman (I'm going to assume a woman she actually knows) about how some sketchy landlord wanted her to give him money without having her sign a contract for an apartment. Her response? "I've seen Judge Judy! I know how it works!" (Oh JJ, I do appreciate the fact that it educates as well as entertains.)

I'm back.

Also my brother is in ROTC Army. Therefore, I've got a lot of army paraphernalia going through the wash. 
ANNNDD Savannah is back. 
Asking if I'm in the army. No? Well her dad was in the marines. 
"You like animals? I love animals more than I love my children. There was this one time my little Bitch (that is her dog's name) was bit by a rabid coon or something, I just gave her half an aspirin... Because there was this one time I gave her the whole aspirin and she started foaming at the mouth, so now I just give her one." 

After this rite of passage, I was deemed worthy for all the personal information. She opened *this* conversation by asking me about this song that I have never heard of-- it's her brother's favorite. He's in jail.
"Man, the food there is so bad! I got so fat that my friends could not tell me apart from four pregnant women in this picture we took together." Then she talks about her stint in jail.
Her husband is also in jail, but he doesn't really count because they got married when they were nineteen... and he's in jail.
And there's the boyfriend who was actually right outside. But he didn't come in and help with the laundry because that's her job. He's 15 years older, and doesn't let her leave the house without him. Because he was a cheater, so naturally, he assumes she will cheat on him. At the Laundromat.

But she has her revenge, because when he pisses her off she cuts his pockets and bleaches his pants. Apparently he has no pants with pockets or without bleach.

My adventure ends there when her boyfriend escorts her away. I finish folding my brother's laundry and, like a boss, somehow fit nine loads into the three baskets he provided. 

I am the Folding Queen.

Woes of a New Dog Owner

My simple dog refuses to be trained: she does “sit” occasionally, lays down if I have a treat in hand while simultaneously having my 7-year-old dog demonstrate the proper technique, and only comes if what I’m offering is better than what she currently has, but “stay” is completely nonnegotiable… She will not stay.

Ok. I can handle that. I still love her.

BUT THEN.... 

She goes to the bathroom in the house. Like right AFTER I took her outside.

WHHHHHAAAATTTTTTTT?????? 

So last night around 1:30a, she needs to go out. Ok. I can do that. She goes and I'm so proud.

But then I realize I forgot to unlock the door before leaving the house. 

Locked out. 

But I figure its not that late, I knock on the door and I am let in. Early morning comes and I let her out, she goes, comes back in and then starts to eat both hers and the other dogs food. She’s hungry; I’m going to let her eat. I sit down, I shit you not, for like five minutes. Then she comes to me with her tail between her legs and I know she has done just that.

Elektra, my sweet deluded little minion. Aren't we forgetting one teensy-weensy, but ever so crucial little, tiny detail?

She immediately knows this means she has to go outside, but in all the hubbub of trying to shepherd her out, I again forget to unlock the door. But I am determined to clean this mess up before anyone in the house wakes up. So I go through a secret door and over to the elevator to sneak back into the house… And instead of hitting the lights in the elevator, I hit the all house alarm bell. 

Everyone is up. 

And now, in the time that has elapsed, almost the whole house smells.

This is my life pretty much every day.

Frustration levels are high.

Dog school inevitable.

I survived the Mayan Apocalypse

  Happy New Year, readers! These last couple months have passed in an absolute blur, I cannot believe it is already 2013. Let’s see what has happened since last we spoke? I got a dog, my sister got married, I graduated from college, and, yes, I am still driving Hektor, Car of the Year for 2012.

 

Elektra and I

(Serious paragraphs are made better with pictures!) Now that it is a New Year, everyone is making their “New Year” resolutions, I see the same resolutions that I hear every year: eating healthy, exercising, and reconnecting with old friends. This part of the year tends to annoy me. Naturally, I am not saying that striving for health and friendship is annoying, I have those things and will continue to work and improve on them, but by having the same goal every year… that leads me to believe that all those things you wanted for yourself in the past year didn’t work out, because if they did then why would you make the same resolution?

My dear Brother-in-Law and the Bridesmaids

While I haven’t yet decided where this year will take me, I think it always important to take a step back and move forward with baby steps.  For example, my new brother-in-law’s goal this year is to remember to put the DVD’s back in their container after he is finished with them. I would be over the moon if my dog would learn to go to the bathroom outside. The small things in life.

Each year has their own set trials and tribulations, try not to dwell on the past, the what-ifs, if-onlys, instead focus on what’s happening in the here-and-now: Don’t take things so personally. Take chances. And as my friend has told me twice this month: History favors the bold &life is short.

 

Ridin' a dino at the Creation Museum

I hope that this year continues to be that of travel. I’ve already driven down to Louisville twice, up to Dayton tonight, Nashville soon to visit the Parthenon Museum, and Ireland in October. 

Keep Calm and Jump on an Airplane.

More misadventures? Adventures old friend.

Over and out.

Commit to the shoes.

Well, October has been quite the busy month. Papers, exams, Homecoming, my favorite holiday- my birthday, the brilliant John Green came to visit the Public Library for Read Week, my car died, and most recently I went to a Halloween party dressed as everyone’s favorite fugitive, Carmen SanDiego.

Changing leaves... mmmhmmmm.            

So, Katie, how's life? WELL. Story time.

Them shoes.

So this last Wednesday I was picking up a friend for a classic Ben Hur movie night and I noticed my car was making a strange sound as I was parking, but as I know nothing about cars, I thought, I won’t think about that today, I’ll think about that tomorrow. Thursday, I’m on my merry way to campus when I noticed my “ABS” light has turned on. Hmm, I will have to get that checked out… Five minutes later, I looked down and the gas gauge was “on empty.” Odd. Let it be know, I know I had about a half a tank when the journey began. Hmmm, I think, that looks like it could be a problem. Then five minutes later, I look down and, I’ll be damned, the speedometer is also on zero, even though I am clearly driving. I pull into my parking spot, turn the car off, and, for kicks, try to turn it back on… Houston, we have a problem. Well, I’m just let it sit there and try again after class, and if need be, I will have plenty of time to walk to work. Long story short, I did end up walking the 3 and a half miles to and from work, which is not really long, however, not being clairvoyant, I sadly had not worn what I would call “walking shoes.” Ahh silly me. Blisters for every! toe.

Friday was the party where I was to dress as the aforementioned Carmen SanDiego. Hmm, to wear my 5 inch heels, or to not wear my 5 inch heels… *Wear them! And be TALL!*
These shoes… I call them my “2 hour” shoes. I wore them 7 hours. Because they're pretty baller. When you walk out the front door, you commit to your shoes. BUT, needless to say though, the next morning… The blisters from the day before were nothing. My feet felt like they had been subjected to a Chinese feet binding ritual. Sitting around the house was the name of the game that day. And, slightly disappointing, my 6’1 friend had spoken the truth: Even with 5 inch heels I was still a good 4 inches shorter. Operation Tall: Failure.

Han Solo and Carmen SanDiego reporting for duty

And yes, you did just read an entire blog about my car and shoes. Time well spent. 

                                                     Until next time!

Senioritis

Senioritis: n. A crippling disease that strikes high school (or in my case, college as well) seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as graduation. (Urbandictionary.com)

This year will be the fourth time I will have experienced the wonderful and terrible disease.

The first time: End of my junior year of high school

I honestly don’t know why I felt so entitled. I was 17 and knew what was up. Clearly.

Let me first explain my high school because it’s probably different than yours. It is run on what is called a “Modular Schedule.” On a “normal” day, there are 18 “mods” each 20 minutes with a 3 min between each mod as “Walking Time.” A normal class is usually 2 mods and sciences are usually 3 mods, however, I once took a class that was a four mods, but that was an isolated incident. Schedules are made around a 6 day week (A through F)- so constantly rotating. And every student has a unique schedule- made just for them by a little old lady in the scheduling department. When does mod 5 begin? Oh like 9:52. What? Looking back, it’s a nightmare. For the administration and teachers. I loved it; but I totally understand why some of my teachers would just throw up their hands sometimes and tell us to leave. 

Back to my pre-senior senioritis. Seniors have the privilege of leaving school early if they have no class at the end of the day. At the end of my junior year, three of my letter days ended with at least 6 free mods: that is essentially 2+ free hours. There was no way I was spending those in school. There is fun to be had.

What kind of fun? The dog park.

Yes, I would strategically park my car, sneak out of school, and go to the dog park. Because I love my dog that much. My friends never quite understood my excitement, but I was and still am unashamed. And by God, no one, especially not anyone in the “Administration” (because back then, their authority was super skep) was going to stop me.

The second time: Senior year of high school

Yes! Senior year! I get to leave early right? Wrong. The scheduling fairy was not kind to me this year. But, you might ask, how will you make time to go to the dog park?! Well, my dog needs me. I guess I’ll just have to skip class. That was pretty much my thought process. My dad also supported my love of the dog park (probably because my German Shepherd-Rotweiler-Akita was still a puppy and she had some mad energy). I would call him from the bathroom, “Hey, dad, I’m going to call you from the nurse’s office in like 5 minutes to go home sick. It’s so nice outside, I want to go to the dog park.” I would go to the nurse’s office and she would look at me like, Like hell, you’re not feeling well. But my dad, being the best in the world, would inform the nurse that I haven’t been feeling well and would give his blessing for me to go home for the day. My mother also contributed to my senioritis in her own way. While my mom would refuse to lie on the phone to the school nurse, she would write me notes on days that I just didn’t feel school was worth my time, and decided I could be more productive by staying at home. This happened more and more frequently when the weather was nice.

Another thing that makes me a terrible student is that I feel a need to multitask. Early fall of my senior year, I started knitting in class. I started with scarves, and then I made a friend of mine a pair of mittens. Then another friend requested mittens. Then another friend paid me to make her a pair of mittens. Needless to say, I made a little business of knitting in class. Knitknitknit, copy down a physics equation, knitknitknit, calculate something, knitknitknit, conjugate a verb.  However, by the spring, my English teacher forbade me from knitting in her class, which I thought was just a huge injustice. She was also the teacher for my last class and forbade me from leaving with the bus-riders, something I had succeeded in doing the previous 3 years to get to rowing on time. I'm totally an 18 year old bus rider. Yeah, she was not fooled.

The third time: Senior year of College Part 1

I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea, but this was the year I decided to take three language classes- two German literature classes and Latin speeches/erotic poetry/Aeneid. The German was the first to go. Mostly because all the stories we read ended with suicide, homicide, and a general sense of WTF. Another problem with my German class was this extremely exasperating girl who we called “Stephanie.” She was so aggravating that we invented a drinking game all about her. So depending on how irritating she was, I could be in an unfortunate state before 11am. Drinking not only made “Stephanie’s” quirks more bearable, but I always felt I spoke better German after a few drinks. Germans drink before 11, why shouldn’t I? (Also, proof drinking makes me a better test taker- studied at the Hofbräuhaus before an exam… A+. The test taking experience was also ten times more enjoyable. Fact.)

I don’t, as a general rule, skip classes, but when I did it was Latin. And only in the spring, and only when at least two other friends were skipping. Because, number 1 there aren’t that many people in 300 level Latin anyway, number 2- less people in class= I have to translate more. Which I CAN do, except when the teacher would ask questions like, what is the gender of this? Bitch, please. That shit’s not in my head. That’s what a dictionary is for. (Why yes, that escalated quickly.)

The fourth time: Super Senior year of College, aka Senior year Part 2

Worst discovery of my life: Pintrest. More terrible than even Facebook, because I tend to look at funny pins and proceed to chuckle in class when the teacher is talking about something entirely not funny. Another terrible hobby: blogging. I tend to write my blogs in classes where I can’t be on Pintrest. Issues.

This newfound love of blogging really stems from my love of telling stories. And now that my best friend has graduated and I have no one to tell ALL the ridiculous things that happen to me -(sitcom worthy situations mainly brought about due to my misunderstanding how normal life works or that period in my life where I’m pretty sure I was dating a spy)- anyway he suggested I write a book about my life. That seemed like a rather large endeavor, so I thought I’d start small.
My life is fairly ridiculous, so if you have any suggestions of things you’d like me to talk about feel free to suggest anything in the comments.

I won't think about that now, I'll think about that tomorrow.

So recently I watched “Gone with the Wind,” and it did not disappoint. My mind is reaffirmed that it is, by far and away, the greatest film of all time. Upon talking to two friends of mine the next day, I was shocked that they both have not seen the, yes four hour, movie. But for me, it was a staple growing up. I have relatively fond memories of staying home sick from school, curling up on the couch in pajamas with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and popping in that VHS- a totally begenk copy, I might add, recorded off TNT with snippets of commercials and everything. However, in case there are other people in the world who have not seen it, I will not spoil anything here, but insist you go to your local library and rent it today because I promise it’s worth it. Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh are seriously the bomb.com times ten, not to mention the film direction is just superb.

So, Katie, besides all that, why else should I watch this film? Because, dear reader, you will not find another film out there with superior dialogue. I laugh, my mom cries; it'll move you in a way only a fantastic screenplay can. Scarlett O’Hara is a character you just love to hate, but then you still love her in the end, and her counterpart, the scoundrel, Captain Rhett Butler, is quite frankly the most complex and, in my opinion, easily the most lovable character in the whole film. In addition to all that, his lines in the movie are just the best. So on that note, I have decided to include my favorite Rhett Butler quotes… With pictures.

Top 5 Rhett Butler Quotes

5. I'm very drunk and I intend on getting still drunker before this evening's over.

4. With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.

3. No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.

2. RB: So, you see I shall have to marry you.

Scarlett: I've never heard of such bad taste.

RB: Would you be more convinced if I fell to my knees?

S: Turn me loose, you varmint, and get out of here!

RB: Forgive me for startling you with the impetuosity of my sentiments, my dear Scarlett. I mean, my dear Mrs. Kennedy. But it cannot have escaped your notice that for some time past the friendship I have felt for you has ripened into a deeper feeling. A feeling more beautiful, more pure, more sacred. Dare I name it? Can it be love?

S: Get up off your knees! I don't like your common jokes!

RB: This is an honorable proposal of marriage made at what I consider a most opportune moment. I can't go all my life waiting to catch you between husbands.

S: You're coarse, and you're conceited. And I think this conversation has gone far enough.

                                                       Watch: Rhett's Proposal

1. S: I only know that I love you.

RB: That's your misfortune.

S: Rhett, Rhett! Rhett... if you go, where shall I go, what shall I do?

RB: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Now go watch it.