On Summer, Serendipitously

Posted on July 3, 2012 by kb

When I started titling my blog posts with adverbs at the end, a la advice columnists, I had no idea how difficult it would prove to come up with adverbs that sound marvelous and yet entirely capture the mood of each post. I think I make up words sometimes, and I’m alright with that. I struggle not to sound pretentious, because to me, that’s the biggest sin one can commit in the public eye.

Serendipitously sounds like the lovechild of surreptitious and serene, although I promise it’s just serendipity with a long ending. Although, I do hope to someday title a blog post “…., surreptitiously.” I promise you that post will be brimming with as much faux-pretentiousness as I can possibly manage.

Thursday night. A quick drink. There is nothing more wonderful than sipping a cold drink while sitting outside on a hot summer night. The lanterns and lampshades only add to my enjoyment.

After a quiet night at home on Friday, I welcomed Saturday with brunch at a little place near Jacob’s house. I like the bottomless mimosas, the coffee – and the fact that the waiter noticed the curdling cream and replaced it without me having to timidly raise my hand and request a new cup, and the willingness to accommodate my strange order request without hesitation. The cook laughed when the waiter asked him to make veggie eggs benedict with sausage gravy instead of Hollandaise sauce. It was delicious; if you’re a fan of gravy, I suggest that you try it some time.

My brunch date, or as my five-year old neighbor would say, my BFF. (I was leaving my mom’s house to hang out with a friend one day, and our little neighbor asked me if my friend and I were BFFs. My mom had to turn her face so that the little one couldn’t see her laughing. So cute.)

And the house behind him is one of my favorites. It’s so funky. I imagine the inside to be all hardwood floors and quirky colors (like turquoise and deep oranges). Even if it’s not like that at all, I will keep thinking that it is so that my love affair can continue.

I love this picture. Saw this stoop on my way back to the car after brunch.

I really wanted to go to Jazz in the Park on Sunday. Like really, really bad. But it was just too hot. And…I got super hooked on the show Game of Thrones and so I spent most of yesterday pretending to clean and watched most of the first season instead. I would take a twenty minute break in between each episode and go do some dishes, or pick up trash, or organize things, but between the show and the cherries, Parmesan, bread, and Nutella (Nutella and I are having a serious love affair that was rekindled because Swisher wasn’t around this weekend…since he’s allergic to nuts, I can’t eat it when he’s around) that called my name at the grocery store, I couldn’t maintain my cleaning focus.

Oh well. The Dothraki and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are way more important than cleaning anyway. I have the 4th off, so in between lounging in my kiddie pool and barbecuing, I think I’ll spent some time trying to wade through the mess that is my room. I’m finally trying to be ruthless when it comes to getting rid of clothes. More to come on that mission….

On Hot Cats in the Summer, Vigilantly

Posted on June 27, 2012 by kb

It’s been a while since I’ve subjected you to cat pictures, but I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten how much you all just love to stare at pictures of cats.

I realized last night that I’ve become the stereotypical female cat owner. Sure, he’s adorable, but I’m way over the top with how much I love him. I ordered him a cat bow-tie off the internet, which he wore for about twenty minutes one day. (In all fairness, the bow-tie was $3, including shipping, and it was twenty minutes of adorable, so I don’t regret it.) I catch myself referring to myself in the third person when I’m talking to him, as in “Mommy doesn’t have any wet food for you.”

I also realized that I don’t care whether or not anyone thinks that is ridiculous. He’s my son. I rescued him and I will love him. Seriously (and so incredibly selfishly), I love that he loves me.

In college, my roommate Emily used to call all cats “chicken nuggets”, so it was only a matter of time before it was shortened to chicken. Last week, Swisher said the word “chicken” and Carlos turned his head, confirming my worst fears that he may think his name is actually “chicken.” But then again, maybe not. It’s not like he responds to anything that isn’t “tsk tsk tsk” or the sound of a can or package of wet food being opened.

Wet food is like crack. He can’t resist; it gets him every time. Now that he knows that we have wet food in the house (it’s hot, and I like knowing that he’s getting a little more hydration and also some good protein), he won’t even run. He’ll bound out the door, but once he realizes that I’m not following, he’ll sashay back in and start the begging.

Swisher accidentally shut the door to my room one night, locking Carlos out and forcing him to sleep in the living room. Mike said that when he got up to go to work, Carlos was scratching at my door. Since then, he won’t sleep in my bed when Swisher is over. (But the minute Swisher leaves, he’s right back on his side of the bed, stretched out territorially, his head cocked back as though he’s wondering when I’m going to come keep him company.)

The one drawback to loving a cat in the middle of summer? The shedding! Everywhere! White sheets? Don’t even think about it. (Yes, those are white sheets. The bottom, where Carlos likes to sleep, is no longer white. It’s cat-gray. It’s unpleasant for all of us.) Since all of my friends are allergic (except Jacob), I have to change my sheets or put new sheets down when anyone wants to sleep on our giant bean bag or on the couch or on the futon mattress. I have been doing so much laundry! I started to say, “On the plus side…” but then realized that there really isn’t one.

Until Colorado decides to cool down, I have a very hot, grumpy chicken on my hands, and I am one stressed out cat mother (the thought of heat stroke or dehydration, etc. is terrifying). We have fans everywhere, so hopefully when we’re gone, Carlos just parks himself in front of them and gets some good air. He has fresh water, food, and a dark closet in which he can look for quiet, cool spaces to hang out. But I can still tell he’s miserable. I gave him a cool bath the other day – just barely warm water, and he was dry in less than a half an hour. Maybe more cool baths are in store for us.

Cool baths and wet food are going to get us through the summer.

Side note: I remember one of the vets at some point telling me that Carlos just looks like a feral cat, based on his facial features. I don’t remember what it is, and can’t verify to be sure that this statement is correct. I was doing some Googling and came across this link, in case any of you are curious about feral cats and the TNR (Trap-Neuter-Release program) that took the tip of his ear.

As I read more and more about these sorts of programs, and especially since I know that he’s FIV+ (Cat AIDS!), the more it sinks in that we are both incredibly lucky. Carlos is lucky to be alive – had he been tested earlier for FIV and found to be positive, there is a high possibility that he could have been euthanized. He ended up at the no-kill shelter that is PAWS Chicago, whether it was through the TNR program or through other means, I’m not sure. After waiting for six months to be adopted (by me!), he’s a sweet, sassy, spoiled house cat who hopefully has a much better life than the one he had before. I could not have asked for a more challenging or entertaining companion.

If you’re looking for a pet, please look at the shelters first. There are some amazing used animals just waiting to find great homes. (I use “used animals” because I think it sounds cute, and not because I think the animals have any less value. Trust me, Carlos would not be the lovable smart-ass he is today without his street experience.)

On the Weekend

Posted on June 25, 2012 by kb

I love babysitting. Now that I’m out of college and staring down the possibility of motherhood within the next decade or so, I am looking at babysitting as the ultimate in childhood education. It provides such an insight into the world of parenting. I get to see the kids at their shiny, smiling best and at their absolute, angry worst. I get to watch their minds develop and wonder; they blow me kisses and sign “I love you” when I put them to sleep; we giggle together. Children are truly wondrous.

But more than that, I get to watch different sets of parents actively making choices. Each household does things differently, and all they want is the best for their children. I’m terrified that I will somehow raise children that aren’t independent, free-thinking, and respectful. (See this article in the New Yorker for more on that…)

It’s good practice. It’s good exposure. And I honestly think that for all of my years spent babysitting, I’ll be a much better mother.

Denver has been HOT. Too hot. Whenever the summer gets like this, I always think of that episode of Hey, Arnold! where there’s the heat wave. Don’t ask why, I’m not even entirely sure what happens in the episode.

My apartment does not have air conditioning. The cat is angry about this, and is grateful for the fans we have set up in an attempt to circulate some of the air. So on Saturday, we bought a kiddie pool, some squirt guns, sunscreen, and a plastic jar with a spout and a handle! It’s the perfect combination for summer. Swisher has informed me that now that we own a hose together, we’re pretty much committed to each other.

After the stress that was our first fight last week, I had some more serious realizations: On Saturday, he helped me clean out my room at my mom’s house – she’s trying to reclaim our childhood rooms and I’m resisting. But there was no judgement as he picked through random piles of books and clothes and the knick knacks of my youth. I realized that even though there are things that I’m going to have to accept and learn to love about him, he’s having to do the same thing for me. Helping me clean is always going to be a labor of love (Maddie knows all about this), and one that I will be forever grateful for.

I’m going to try to be more patient and realistic in my expectations, but I also told him that I’m not going to let him slide on anything. I think it was good. Cooling off in the pool was even better. I can’t wait to spend the summer hanging out at the pool I’ve inflated in the empty lot next to my apartment building. (Hah.)

The view from the pool.

On Sunday nights, they do free jazz concerts in City Park. Since it’s within walking distance, last night we made a little picnic of lemonade, bread, cheese, meat, and grapes and headed over with some blankets. It was a lovely evening of lounging on the blankets in the cooling air.

(Swisher took this!)

Sadly, as the jazz was ending around 8pm, a police officer (and single mother of a 12-year old daughter) was shot and killed. We heard the gunshots, thought they sounded like fireworks, and then heard the sirens. Cop cars and an ambulance were all over the park. We weren’t very close to the shooting, and we didn’t really feel any sense of panic (I mean, it wasn’t the stampede-effect), but the stream of people out of the park was pretty consistent.

I seriously hope that this crime doesn’t deter people from coming out to the park. It’s such a beautiful place, and having free music every Sunday is a really great opportunity to feel like a part of the community. Maybe next week, they will have some sort of donation center up so that patrons can donate to the family of the slain officer.

I’m sad. Sad for the daughter of the officer, sad for the officer herself, and sad for the guy who killed her. Misplaced rage, or sad displays of masculinity, or something else led to a split-second decision that took a life, took a mother, and changed another’s life forever. This guy, who’s only 21, will have to spend the rest of his life reliving those moments. I only hope that prison for him is not so much a place of criminal education, but instead offers a place of hope and personal growth. (It won’t, but then again, our prison system has never really been about reducing recidivism. It’s more of a profit mill than anything else. I like hearing about places that really work for rehabilitation and optimism than those which breed gang violence and racially divided populations while glorifying violence.)

When we got home, there were a ton of people in our living room. By a ton, I mean ten, but expecting to see one and seeing ten is still overwhelming. After a while, Mike’s friends wanted to take a walk. Which was perfect, because I wanted to play night frisbee.

Night frisbee has been on my brain for days now. It’s harder, I think, to play night frisbee because all you see is the light, flying straight at your head. The color is nice, but it’s easier to miss. I’m still awesome at it, of course.

After everyone left, Mike, Swisher, and I continued playing on the side of the building. It was such a relaxing night, the perfect end to a very hectic week. (Or the perfect beginning to another hectic week?)

In unrelated news, I love my slapwatch. I do not actually use it to keep time, and so I don’t think it’s been accurate for like six months. (Bear in mind that I’ve only owned it for like 6 months.) Also, my childhood self cheers every time I wear it. Good for her.

On Lawnmower People, Begrudgingly

Posted on June 21, 2012 by kb

I got a picture message from my mom a few minutes ago with the subject: “Found this note in a box. Made me laugh.”

I needed the smile today. But oh man, I am so embarrassed. That’s absolutely the handwriting and indignant sarcasm of my childhood.

(Okay, so it could be worse. I did say please. Check this link out, it goes to a drawing done by a 6-year old in timeout. He asks his parents how they’re doing in hell. Hah, so good.)

On the Flat Tire, Sadly

Posted on June 19, 2012 by kb

I got my first flat tire on Friday night. I was driving up to Boulder after work to see Swisher, and as I was getting off of the highway, I heard a noise like I’d driven over a rattlesnake (and since it was a prolonged noise, it was like the rattlesnake had suddenly jumped into my backseat and was rattling away). I didn’t stress, thinking it was just the pavement being strange.

As I got off the highway and started to slow down, I heard another strange noise and my car handled differently. So I freaked out (internally) and quickly merged right and onto a frontage road and parked (calmly). I got out, and sure enough, my left back tire was flat. I called Swisher, who was already a little grumpy since I was late to begin with. I dropped a pin on my iPhone and sent him a picture of the map and told him to come find me.

And then I set about trying to change my tire. I whipped the jack out of the trunk (of course, I had to move a bunch of crap around, including a bike rack and some shoes), and began attempting to loosen the lug nuts. They refused to budge, so I jacked up the car anyway.

Why? Because it made me feel capable. I am a small, not very muscular human being, and I was pretty stoked to see my car rise up off of the ground. Since it’s Boulder, tons of people stopped by to see if I needed help, and one guy finally tried to loosen the lug nuts, to no avail.

Swisher arrived. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked. I grinned. “Love me,” I told him.

So we put the car back down and left it for the night, since there was no way I was going to be able to get the tire off. The next morning, I waited for an hour for AAA. When the guy got there, he asked me, “Where’s your boyfriend?” I didn’t respond, but instead let him struggle with the lug nuts.

After AAA had done their business (putting on my very sad-looking donut tire), I drove the 2 miles to the nearest Discount Tire, where I spent a large portion of my life savings on 2 new tires. I think the guy saw my face (a look of sadness, shock, and terror) when he said the price, and I asked him to remove the lifetime-warranty-replacement deal from the bill. He kindly reassured me that it was a good idea, and I wrinkled my nose, so he offered to put the other two tires (that I did not buy at Discount) on as being covered under the lifetime-warranty-replacement deal for free. I agreed. And then got flustered and accidentally flung my credit card across the room.

Then it got denied. “I just got back from Vegas,” I explained. My debit card worked, though, so I breathed a sigh of relief. “How was Vegas?” the guy asked. I wanted to tell him that he could just pay some chick to sit next to him covered in glitter while he drinks a 12-pack with a silly straw next to his neighborhood pool, but instead, I muttered the usual, “Great, good, expensive, fun.”

(Not that Vegas wasn’t fun. It was. I was just frustrated that after such an expensive weekend, I was forced to deal with real world problems that also cost massive amounts of money.)

***

Friday night was my first time being in Boulder in a long time (I’m not a huge fan of the place, and haven’t spent much time up there since I was dating Ely last spring). Swisher and I went out for dinner. We were having a happy-enough conversation with two men at the bar about whatever and at some point, one of the men decided to adopt that strange testosterone-fueled-bravado-slash-douche attitude. After a few minutes of this, I told him that I really don’t respond well to men who attempt to patronize me. We continued with our now-awkward conversation, and he continued to attempt to one-up me. I didn’t bend. As we were leaving, I apologized for coming off as abrasive. And then he bought me a beer, so I think I came out ahead on that one.

***

Lights at Pride Fest 2012. We went dancing at a bear bar and it was wonderful!

Katie and Mark and me!

***

This is a strange picture, but I woke up early this morning to find that the sun was streaming through my windows in the most beautiful way. (As I look at the picture, I’m realizing that perhaps I should de-clutter my window space.) I ran the picture through Instagram to attempt to highlight the color, and even though it didn’t turn out exactly as the sun looked, I think it’s still a gorgeous reminder of why summer is one of my favorite times of the year. The way the sun looks so golden through the trees is one of the best lights (besides the gray/green after a rainstorm).

On Las Vegas

Posted on June 13, 2012 by kb

I won’t lie, I was apprehensive because this was our first “Cousins Trip.” I have known these people my entire life, but hanging out with them has been relegated to family events, not adventures.

And this was most certainly an adventure. There was a lot to fit into three days, and since it was Ginger’s and my first time, I didn’t expect to do much more than the typical touristy stuff.

Oh man, my feet are sore. I wanted so badly to wear heels (who wouldn’t?), but due to the broken toe, it appears that any closed-toe shoes are impossible. (I still haven’t heard the final read on the toe x-rays taken last week, but regardless of the doctor’s decision, the pain is way too real to ignore – which I thought I would be able to do for beauty.) We walked and walked and walked. We saw so much more than I thought possible.

There was pool time, eating time, show time, sleep time, alone time…all in all, it was a really great vacation with some really great people.

On the way home, there was a girl traveling alone to spend the summer with her dad. Her mom was trying to hold in tears at the gate as she said good bye and her little sister ran up to give her one last hug. I saw the girl try and be brave with a “Don’t cry, Mom, it’s only two months.” But as soon as she was headed down the jetway, there were tears welling up in her eyes.

A woman a few years older than me was standing right by the girl and asked her if she wanted to sit together. They ended up talking for the entire flight. I think it was incredibly selfless and sweet of that woman to spend some time making a girl feel a little bit more comfortable and a lot less scared.

Quickly, some pictures:

(This Beetle is on display in the Denver Airport. It was hand-beaded by several families over the course of many weeks. It’s beautiful!)

(The security guard after the Blue Man show. He was pretty much amazing, and I told him so.)

(I liked this flower.)

(my grumpy face. By the time we got to the airport, I was exhausted and more than ready to be home. Finding out that our flight was delayed was more than frustrating.)

(The Wynn, Las Vegas)

(I’ve never left Carlos alone for very long. Three days was the longest. I was nervous, especially since he got out and ran to hide in the basement during our 5:00 am departure on Sunday morning. We got back to a very grumpy Carlos, although I was thrilled that he was very much alive. He had taken his collar off somewhere along the way and i still haven’t managed to find it. – old picture)

(The Las Vegas Strip)

(Sorry Ginger, the eyes looked so creepy when I tried to fix them!! I still think we both look beautiful!)

(Caesar’s Palace)

(Mike and I thought it’d be fun to wear hats. It wasn’t.)

(I touched a Blue Man!! Better yet, my favorite Blue Man! Something about his eyeballs was super cool.)

(And of course, there was pool time. Mike said he felt like Jason Segel in Forgetting Sarah Marshall because of the fruit we started collecting. It was cute.)

And now, I’m off to work! I am so late, so I expect to be there quite a bit later than usual tonight. I have a giant project that absolutely must be completed by tomorrow night I am hoping that I can overcome the exhaustion and rock today.

On Bacon Ice Cream, Dejectedly

Posted on June 5, 2012 by kb

I’m panicking this week. Normally, my stress level is about 25% higher than my peers. (That’s on a good day.) This week, for some reason, there’s a nasty frisson coursing through my veins. I feel it tingling at my fingertips, nagging at my cerebellum, squeezing my stomach.

Whatever it is, I’m not sure, but in situations like this, I find myself overwhelmed to the point of inactivity. Rather than channel my anxiety into productivity, I find myself captivated by the inane.

For example: I started this blog post intending to blog about my disappointment with the dessert I had the other night. I then attempted to write about adulthood and why it sucks. And now, I’m off on panicking.

So let’s make this all three of them, and then I’ll be able to say that at the very least, I got one thing crossed off my list today.

You’ve already heard about the panic that threatens to halt my forward progress into Tuesday, supposedly the most productive day of the week, so perhaps now you’d like to hear about why adulthood sucks.

You’re probably an adult. Presumably, you’ve survived 24. Being 24 feels like being in the trash compactor in Star Wars. All sides closing in, it’s do or die. And while I doubt that I’ll be crushed by a giant trash compactor any time soon, I do feel the pressure to be everything at once. Being all things to all people is impossible, as Barack Obama is slowly learning.

But most things seem possible. My goals in life are thus: don’t be a dick, give something back to this planet, be happy, eat as much chocolate cake as possible, have a family, do something I love (but that also is financially rewarding enough to provide for travel, and health care, and retirement, and emergency expenses, and food, and cute pants), and be satisfied with who I am at the end of every single day. Okay, so that’s pretty doable.

But here’s my one problem with the here and now: there’s too much. I work three jobs. I love my family (and therefore spend quite a bit of time with them). I have a social life (which I also happen to love). I travel. I have a boyfriend (…ready for it? I love him, too). I want to read all the blogs and all the news articles in the world. I want to understand pop culture references. I want to make time for bubble baths. I want to travel. I want to learn. I want to explore. I want to savor.

But seriously, how does one find time to do all of that and sleep at night? Between the influx of necessary-to-stay-relevant knowledge and my attempts to embrace adulthood, I’m overwhelmed. But it’s do or die, so I will complain and whine and then I will look back at this age when I’m 30 and think, “Man, if only I was 24 without a care in the world again” and be ashamed that I bothered to do so much stressing. I will realize that I have been flourishing all along.

But, whether or not I’m flourishing is a topic of discussion for a later date. The real reason you’re here is bacon ice cream.

I was in Glenwood Springs with my mom and aunt this weekend, and for a belated birthday dinner, we ate at the Pullman.

The food itself was delicious, but I was one hundred percent dissatisfied with my dessert. Nutella bread pudding and bacon ice cream. My god, how can you go wrong? Well you can. And they did.

The bread pudding was dry without any hint of chocolate or hazelnut flavoring. The bacon ice cream was….indescribable. It was the kind of dish that you take a bite of and then smack around in your mouth trying to figure out what it is you might be eating. No distinguishable flavor. They’d have been better off garnishing a scoop of vanilla ice cream with bits of crisp bacon. I mashed the ice cream around on the plate. I was sad. More than that, I was disappointed. I’d rather just have spent the $7 on a jar of Nutella and a package of bacon. I would have been so much happier dipping a piece of bacon into Nutella.

On Being in Love (like a goon)

Posted on May 31, 2012 by kb

Oh yeah, 2ish megapixel front-facing phone camera pictures! Nothing says “Awesome picture, is it 1999?” like the poor quality photos that the forward camera on my iPhone takes. (I know, I know, quit complaining you lucky bitch. But still, I don’t own a digital camera. I need to milk the phone technology for all it’s worth.)

Swisher has been staying at my house since Monday. He leaves today for Boulder. I’m excited to have my space back (long, hot, bubble baths whenever I want! and sleep at realistic, reasonable hours every night!), but I’m also a little bummed. We’ve been pretty much connected at the hip since Friday night. I am getting pretty used to having him around.

On Monday, he let me rest my exhausted bones on the couch while he made chicken for our salad. When he served me a bowl full of salad, he had shaved the carrots just the way I like them. (Last time we cooked, I complained that the chunks of carrots lessened my enjoyment of the salad. I was just talking out loud, though, and did not expect to find myself greeted with shaved carrots. They were wonderful, and I ate the whole bowl.)

He thinks I’m too skinny, so he’s been working on feeding me. And he’s been doing a great job. Yesterday, I took pineapple, lasagna, and brownies for lunch! In tupperware, like a real human being!

Knowing that he’s been cooped up in my apartment all week (he’s allergic to Carlos, too, so he’s pretty thrilled to be getting away), I suggested that we go to trivia last night. We both love bar trivia. We won the first round, which meant that I got to pick concert tickets. Since the ticket offerings were a bunch of bands I didn’t know, I jumped when I saw the Mickey Avalon tickets. So, thanks to his history knowledge and my awesomeness, we are seeing Mickey Avalon later this month. For free.

We won a few more rounds, which ended in a variety of contests. At one point, I was supposed to pour a beer into his mouth, which you can imagine ended in disaster. He was covered in beer and not very happy with me. (Oops.) We make a pretty good trivia team, even though we probably need to add a team member who can chug beer and pour correctly. (I’ll be the looks, he’ll be the brains, and the random can be the muscle.)

We got home, and I was exhausted (that’s the major theme in my life – exhaustion. My motto seems to be: Be as exhausted as possible at all times), so I curled up on the couch with a blanket and promptly fell asleep. I woke up to Carlos kneading my stomach at 4:30 this morning. Apparently, in my sleep I told Matt that I’d rather sleep on the couch than go to bed. (Haha, last Saturday, after his going-away party, he came in to the room where I was sleeping, and I told him that if he wanted to talk, he should leave. [Keep in mind that it was like 4am, I’d been asleep for two hours, and I had to drive to Colorado the next day.] So he left and slept on the couch. He was very grumpy about it the next morning. I felt terrible, but started to laugh after a while. He’s so cute when he’s upset, and it’s hard not to smile. Sleep me is a very mean, apparently. Or just very protective of my sleep-time.)

I don’t know where this is going, but I do know that both of us are pretty excited. It’s been two and a half years since I walked into that party and saw him for the first time, and I can’t believe that we’re finally doing this. I told him last night that I’m not looking for anything too serious, too soon. But it’s also funny because we’ve already had to address all of the high-level issues before we could even date. So now, we’re left with “Does he like peas?” and other little things. It’s nice and nerve-wracking all at once. It’s the combination of “I love you” and the “Omg, second date” nervous that keeps me on my toes.

On Chicago, hurriedly.

Posted on May 30, 2012 by kb

more about this adventure later, but here’s the Chicago part:

I flew from Denver to Chicago after work on Friday. He picked me up at the airport (with champagne!). Saturday: we saw his grandparents and then he had a going-away party at his house. Sunday: we had brunch with his family; then I had a nap while he packed the car; then we had going away dinner at his mom’s house. (It was really cute because both of his parents came. It was sort of like when both of my parents came to my college graduation party. You’re shocked, because you haven’t seen them in the same room in years, but you’re also really proud of them. And happy.)

And then we left. It was midnight and the moon ahead of us, wrapped in clouds, led the way home.

Swisher picked me up with a bottle of champagne, a sandwich, and some cookies. We sat in the back seat as his brother drove us back to Lincoln Park.

It was the best airport pick-up a girl could have hoped for.

The city.

We went out downtown Friday night. Swisher’s brother wanted to meet up with some of his friends, so we ended up navigating through the crowd at a hip bar downtown. Ugh, I hate feeling like I’m wearing too much pants. Also, I dread summer because I’m so pale. Mini-dresses look good on me, but not as good as the tan women.

Overwhelmed by the crush of bros that was the hip bar, we ended up at Fado’s, one of my favorite Irish bars. The night was perfect. Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect.

We visited his grandparents on Saturday. The view from their apartment over Belmont Harbor enchants me. I could watch the lake all day. His grandma remembered that I liked watermelon and strawberries, so she had some waiting for us when we got there.

On Sunday night, Swisher’s brother made a Thai feast (sans peanuts so Swisher wouldn’t die). It was delicious. Beyond delicious. There were fried fish balls, curry, mango sticky rice, noodle dishes, lettuce wraps. We played a few rounds of Catchphrase before we left, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite games.

And then we left. There were tears and hugs and a general overwhelming feeling of love. It was good.

On Birthday Weekend, Happily

Posted on May 22, 2012 by kb

Walking back to the car from trivia on Thursday night, I came across this sign. And for some reason, it struck me. Autos.

Friday night was amazing. Sushi for ten followed by bar hopping. By the end of the night, I was surrounded by my favorite people and I was sipping Hendricks and tonic in my favorite bar. Life is good. (The facebook caption on this picture reads: We picked the drunkest man in the bar to take our picture. And it’s true, I did. I’m surprised that we’re not more blurry.)

I bonded pretty hard with a girl who was practicing her seductive poses in the bathroom. I was laughing to myself at the sink, and she saw my reflection in the mirror. She hugged me a few times while we laughed.

I love bar graffiti. Sometimes it’s silly, or rude, but sometimes it’s thought-provoking or just pretty.

On Saturday, Anne wanted to go see all of Denver’s weird art installations. So we went and saw the Blue Bear at the Convention Center, the dustpan and broom by the art museum, the red chair and the horse by the library, and the cows by the art museum. I climbed a cow, and while jumping off, nearly fell into a puddle of mud. Quick reflexes saved me by less than six inches.

On Sunday, we drove to St. Elmo, a ghost town outside of Buena Vista.

St. Elmo is not a ghostly as I would have liked. We pulled in and there was a tour group of ATVs preparing to depart. We were able to get out and walk around, though, and the exploration turned out to be just what we were looking for.

It’s creepy to see the fake flowers in the windows of these buildings. Beyond creepy. Anne and I both agreed that the vibe in the town was way wrong for attempting to sneak into any of the buildings.

View from a boarded up window.

Mattress skeleton!

On our way back, we went to Tiny Town. Of course we rode the TIny Town train. The lady at the concession stand asked us if we had children with us. We exchanged looks and said we didn’t.

My five-year old self has an image of Tiny Town that is far more magical than the experience that my newly twenty four-year old self had. Tiny Town is still an adventure, but it’s good for about ten minutes of adventure.

Favorite parts?

The train ride! The temporary tattoos purchased in the gift shop and applied in the picnic area!

After Tiny Town, I drove Anne to the airport. On the way, we were treated to a double rainbow. I’m about to sound like a nine-year old girl clutching her brand-new Lisa Frank folder, but I had forgotten how awesome rainbows were.

Swisher and I cooked dinner together on Sunday night. I was terrified. He’s a good cook, and I’m less than proficient in the kitchen. We made carbonara (my choice and so full of calories!) and salad. We were supposed to make banana bread, but had so many leftover cupcakes that we decided to just eat those instead. He brought me red velvet cupcakes and gorgeous flowers on Friday! I came home to those and a clean kitchen. Is he good or what?

Honestly, I’m thrilled about life right now, but I’m so exhausted. I hate that I look at the calendar and see that it’s already scribbled in for nearly a month. I know that I’m lucky to be so loved and so busy, but oh man, I’d do nearly anything for a free day to lay in the park with a book and a jug of iced tea.

a mile high and then some…

the space between reality and the rest

Category Archives: pictures