Tag Archive: home


Hello blogosphere!

Long time, no see!!

As you may have deduced, I have returned from my trip abroad and made it safely back to the lovely USA. My trip was awesome and amazing and every positive adjective you can imagine and I definitely did not want to come home, but now that I am home, I am definitely glad to be back.

The following things were what I was most excited about coming home to:

  1. Chiefy
  2. My Bed

Yeah, that’s it.

Besides being exhausted and wanting nothing to do with stairs or being awake, I have also been a complete basket case.  The reasons, however, I just don’t feel comfortable sharing with the entire world on the internet, so I apologize for that. I really didn’t need to share that part with you guys, but considering the mess I’ve been, I just haven’t been myself since I’ve been back.

I met some really great people and really, really loved every minute of the trip. It was amazing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m beyond glad I had the chance to experience everything I did.

Now that I’m back, I have so much to do and getting back to reality kinda blows.

I have so much work still to do for class and it seems like I have a never-ending supply of laundry. I only packed 50 pounds worth of stuff, but I just am struggling to put everything away. I hope I remember how to be in the real world and execute the functions of my job. That will be an adventure tomorrow morning. As will waking up at a normal time in EST.  My body clock is all out of whack and I never have any idea what time it is.

I just wanted to quickly update that I made it back safely and that I hadn’t abandoned my blog for forever.  I’m back and am trying to get back into the swing of things.

🙂

Drew is home.

He’s finally home.

I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like. I’m beyond joyful.

I have missed him so much and it just feels so good to have him here again.

There was a lot of traffic at the airport, and we were running late (typical) and Drew’s plane landed early, and apparently it’s not difficult to get into this country as Drew flew through customs.

When we got to the “International Arrivals” drive-up curb thing-y, Drew was already there and waiting for us. Mom was freaking out and getting a little bit road rage-y. She was ready to tuck and roll to just walk to find him. When she opened the door before even putting the car in park, I knew it was the more responsible choice to have me tuck and roll to run down the road to find him.

I got out of the car, all pissed off because she had driven on a rumble-strip just moments before and woke me from a delicious nap I had been taking.

Then, though, I hadn’t even walked ten steps before I saw him.

Tall and lanky as ever, the same as when he left, he stood probably a hundred feet away. I waved. I could tell he was trying to figure out if it was me. And then we started walking towards each other. I wanted to run but I tried to keep my cool. There were so many cars and so many people around.

But then he picked up his pace. And so I did too. Then he started running. And I felt my cold, black heart swell and I started running towards him too. Then he dropped all of his shit on the ground and wrapped me in a big, big hug. He lifted me off the ground and even though my boobs hurt after he put me down ’cause he squeezed me so hard, I didn’t really want to let go. Ever.

He’s home.

 

With Drew studying abroad, it makes me wish I would have been brave and done study abroad while I was in college.

I was too much of a chickenshit to ever leave home.

I went to college twenty minutes away from my childhood home. With traffic, the car ride from my apartment at school to the house I grew up in was twenty minutes. I went home all the time. Sometimes, it was because I legitimately had a reason, like I forgot something. Most of the time, though, I went home for dumb, pretend reasons. I went home to hang out with my dog. I went home to steal food and avoid going grocery shopping (it stresses me out!). I went home to watch movies I wasn’t allowed to take with me back to school. I went home just to have my mom do my laundry (but not fold it, ’cause she does it wrong) and take care of me when I was hungover.

I’m still a pansy, but that is neither here nor there.

My point is that I am so envious of Drew’s European adventure. He posted pictures from his weekend trip to Paris, Brussels and Amsterdam on facebook yesterday. Looking at the pictures from Paris, it made me want to go there again so bad. (We went my junior year of college and I skipped more than a week of classes to do so.) I saw his pictures of the Arc de Triomphe and immediately felt like I needed to go back. His pictures of Notre Dame were amazing, and I died a little ’cause I wanted to be there too. Someday, I’ll go back to Paris and I won’t be such a pansy and I’ll actually go to the top of Notre Dame, like Drew did. Twice.

I want to walk that street and shop 'til I drop.

My fear of heights really ruins my life. When we were in London, I couldn’t go to the tallest part of all the churches. Both times we were in London, I stopped at the first level and waited while everyone else ventured to the top to overlook the city from all of the beautiful churches. I panicked when we went to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. I didn’t go to the ledge because I immediately thought I would blow off and die. I did, however, fake it and took a cheesy picture at the top anyway.

CHEEEEEEEESE

I just really, really, really want to go back to Europe. I want to go all over and see all the sights! I want to see the things I’ve seen before and I want to see and experience new things! I love seeing Drew’s pictures and find myself living vicariously through his experiences. The weekend needs to hurry up and get here so he can travel some more and take more pictures and post them ASAP!

For now, though, I’ll leave you with this photo. We were hanging out in front of Buckingham Palace, and Mom sniped a picture of her two lovely children. Family vacations are awesome.

We were obviously really ready.

I realized I haven’t talked about Grandma in a while.

This is mostly because I’ve spent a ton of time at HomeHome this summer, at least since classes ended at the beginning of August.

Classes are starting this week. Boo 😦 RIP Summer 2010. So I’ll undoubtedly be spending more of my free time at Grandma’s again. In the meantime, here’s a classic tale of one of Grandma’s idiosyncrasies.

Every night, Grandma and I sit down to have dinner at 7 o’clock. We sit at the small-ish round, glass table in the kitchen because the dining room is too fancy and too large for just two people.  I generally sit down first, at my usual place at the table, where Grandma has set my place with a red place mat and her white porcelain dishes. There’s always a glass of milk sitting at my place beside a small lettuce salad or bowl of fruit, because you have to have a vegetable or fruit at every meal. When I take my seat, Grandma looks over the table and asks aloud, “What am I forgetting?”  I no longer respond to this question because the answer is always “Nothing, looks like everything’s here” and she usually just ignores it anyway.

She then makes some disparaging comment, like “well, this doesn’t look as good as the food your mother cooks, but it’ll be juuuuust the way we like it!”  or something like “I tried to work the grill again; that was a job Grandpa usually did…” when, in actuality, she did a perfectly fine job with the grill.  When she says stuff like that, it makes me kinda sad ’cause it’s just unnecessary and the negative things she says are pretty much unfounded. Sometimes I respond with “Noooo, it looks great” or I just shrug because it seems that my comments don’t really make a difference anyway.

By this point, she hasn’t sat down yet, but I’ve been seated for at least three minutes. Comfortably situated in the seat I always sit in.  Meaning, I have pulled my chair out, sat down, and scooted my chair in close enough to the table that I’m not far away at all from the table. No unnecessary reaching. It’s after these comments have been made that she finally reacts to me sitting at the table. There is plenty of space between me and the wall behind me. Sure, it’s a small space; where the table is, it’s in a little nook. But like I said, I am comfortably seated and I am not at all pressed for room. I’m not squished in between the table and the wall. All is well. It’s perfect. No fussing is necessary.

But ooooohhhh noooo. Grandma always, ALWAYS grabs the table and pulls it away from me to “give me more room.” She just grabs the base of the table and yanks it away from me, saying “Here Kate, let’s give you a little more room.”

I DON’T NEED MORE ROOM! More room is the last thing I need. I could hoola hoop with all the room I’ve got!

I have since stopped reacting in any way other than scooting my chair to follow the table. Before, I used to say something like “Oh, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it” or “No! Don’t move the table!!” but my pleas go unheard. Or, maybe she hears them and just ignores me. The latter is more likely, as she has ears like a wolf, like me, so I know she hears me. She just chooses to ignore my requests.

So every day, I scoot into the table on my own and hope that she’ll forget to move the table away.

But, alas, she never forgets. So it’s a constant battle.

Maybe one day I’ll hold on for dear life to the table and pull it towards me while she tries to yank it away. Until then, though, it looks like I’ll continue to scoot my way across the nook to catch up to the glass table that keeps getting taken away from me.

I’m feeling uninspired today.

Do you know how hard it is to come up with something “interesting” to talk about? It’s hard. Really hard.

I’m back at Grandma’s after a week of being home-home. My life is no longer completely out of control and disorganized. I spent a good two hours last night unpacking all of my crap. I put my clothes away, hung shit up in my closet, rearranged the pile of crap on my printer, and color-coordinated slash synchronized my planners (yes, as in plural) and calendars (yes, as in plural).

I suppose that deserves just a tiny explanation.

I have two planners and two wall calendars. The only reason that I have two planners right now is because there’s overlap in the month of July. My planner ends in July (sad face) and the new one starts in July.  The only way I can make sure that I can plan far enough ahead and be aware of what is going on is if I have both of them with me. So there.

I also have two wall calendars so I can have various visual aids to guide me through the week. One calendar is of orchids. They’re lovely flowers. It has the whole month on it, holidays, class schedule, work schedule, moon schedules, you know how it goes. The other one is a dry-erase board that only fits one week at a time. This is where I can write in my work schedule, class schedule, tv shows I want to watch, various activities. Whatevs.

It’s obscene, I know. It’s too much.  But seriously, I love it. (I don’t curr, it’s sexy to let your freak-flag fly!) I LOVE spending all that time color coordinating crap so it looks pretty. I like highlighting stuff in my planner when I’ve completed a task. I enjoy going back through weeks in the past and admiring my work.

I also spent a good fifteen minutes today looking at school supplies. I could have taken longer, but I really needed to make sure I had enough time to get my pre-assignment done for my accounting class this evening. I knew exactly what I wanted but that didn’t stop me from perusing and wishing I had an endless supply of $$$$ to buy stuff I most definitely do not need. It’s not even that I spend time comparing and contrasting similar products. I just really like school supplies. Here’s what I bought:

One 1 1/2 inch binder

One 1 subject notebook

One set of dividers, with pockets (8 dividers)

It is a system of organization that allows me to excel in my masters’ program. Acutally, it just ensures I’ll get a couple looks and hear comments like “wow, you’re really organized…” and “that’s pretty impressive” with sarcastic and/or concerned tones. I think it makes people nervous that someone can be that meticulous. Maybe they’re afraid that I might be one of those crazy people who seem fine until they snap and kill everyone.

Just because I like things done right and believe that everything has a place doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. It’s totally fine that I cringe when someone disrupts my color-coordinating system. It’s totally fine that when something is really cluttered it makes me incredibly anxious. It’s totally fine that the paperclips in my desk at work have a sorting system. It’s totally fine that I use one pencil and one pen among many available to me.

the girls at work think this is funny. it's not funny. so. not. right.

Anyway, I get it. It’s a lot. I’m clearly high-strung. I should probably chill out and relax a little bit.

You’re aware of the crazy now. We can still be friends, though, right?