On New Opportunities, Sadly, Fondly, Excitedly

Posted on August 13, 2012 by kb

This post is a love letter to one of my best friends, who’s off to intern abroad for the next six months. I hope she has an absolute blast perfecting her Italian while eating gelato and canolis and kicking ass at what she’s doing.

I’ve known her since I was fourteen. We got close during geometry class our sophomore year – we were absolute hellions to our teacher – and then traveled to Europe together on an amazing forensic science trip between our junior and senior years of high school.

We went to Chicago together our senior year. She was visiting her boyfriend, and I was falling in love with the lake. We ended up going to the same university. Even though we’ve had very different life experiences, we’ve been able to maintain and strengthen our friendship through the years.

Honestly, some of my best memories from college are from my senior year. The Irish, the Ginger Summer (parts one and two), bar trivia, adventuring, accidentally driving to Wisconsin, the Boston trip, the last night and the sunrise that wasn’t – those are the moments that shape the beautiful memories of my time in Chicago.

I have come to rely on Madeline for advice, for adventure, for a good laugh. Sometimes when I’m really stressed out, she’ll appear in my dreams and yell at me, so I’m pretty certain that she’s my super ego. She is the logical half of our duo, the rational one who always has the right answer. I respect and value her opinions at all times, and have looked to her as a source of strength when I need it most.

I’m so lucky to have a friend like her.

There was a flaming bowl of rum punch involved. That may explain why the picture is so off kilter.

San Francisco, summer 2010, singing “Wonderboy” at a karaoke bar. Are we awesome at karaoke? Absolutely not. Did we rock? Of course. Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power?

The Chicago Mustache Bash:

Spray painting the Irish’s van. Sally, as the van was called, had no working speedometer or gas gauge. The Irish had gotten her for $400 and paid a guy in beer to fix her when she broke.

The first night we went out with our new Irish trivia buddies, they picked us up in the van. I was certain we were going to die when they opened the sliding door while we were on Lake Shore Drive and yelled “air conditioning!”

(The Irish got stopped trying to get back into the US from Canada because they had spray painted “We’re here illegally” on the side of the van.)

South Boston, 2010. A trivia adventure.

Downtown Chicago, 2009. Maddie’s family was in town. Things got wild. This is my favorite picture of us.

On the Weekend Full of Children, Not as Creepily as that Sounds

Posted on August 6, 2012 by kb

None of my friends want children. I want them. At least I did, until I spent the last three days herding twenty-one three and four-year olds around. They’re adorable, I swear, but oh my goodness, so many tears. So many bathroom breaks. Such a challenge to keep them happy, make sure they all have their stuff, and then on top of that, try to keep them entertained.

I don’t know how parents are able to work eight hours (or more) a day and then go home and be rockstar parents. I have enough trouble trying to manage the work-life balance myself (apparently a glass of wine does not count as dinner and cleaning is something you have to do 24/7).

But they’re so cute. During the nap time that wasn’t, I was playing with a little boy who had a stuffed zebra. I would make kissing sounds and “kiss” him with the zebra on his face and arms. He took the zebra and did the same thing to me, laughing. Zebra kisses are the best kind.

Another little boy was telling me all about his family. “Mommy said that some daddies don’t want to be daddies and that some mommies don’t want to be mommies,” he said, so matter-of-factly. I hope that his mom also explained that being adopted means that your biological parents wanted the absolute best for you and made a brave and beautiful choice to give you to another family. (Or as Avery, my neighbor would say, traded you in.)

My brother is a fascinating human being. Very wise and observant. The most kind-hearted individual you will ever meet. The kids in South Africa loved him and I have no doubt that his group of middle-schoolers loved him just as much. Mike was thrilled at the prospect of being able to do some field research. Both of us were adopted, and Mike is studying sociology and biology in college. He wants to focus on the nature vs. nurture question that plagues us all. (Does it plague you? Perhaps not. But I see so many similarities between myself and my birth mother, but also a great many similarities between myself and my mother.) He was excited to see how adoption has played a role in the lives of these children, particularly because of the race difference between them and their parents.

Camp was great. I hope that the parents got a lot out of the sessions, and I hope that all of the kids had enough fun that they’ll be willing to come back next year.

After camp, I babysat. (Child overload, mind you.) We went to Chuck E. Cheese. (Ha, the middle child used to call it “Yucky Cheese” before she could pronounce it. I find her description to be rather accurate.) Flashing lights, colors, the smell of pizza, the terrifying guy in a Chuck E. suit (mascots are one of my biggest fears – no idea why). The girls were thrilled to go home with tiny prizes – a ring for the baby, a magic trick for the middle one, and a bracelet for the eldest.

The mom and dad are some of my favorite parents. They’re always asking me about my life, and have been so incredibly supportive (and curious about) my ADHD diagnosis and the ways in which I’ve chosen to address it. (They’re dealing with it too.)

The mom was like, “What’s your boyfriend’s name again?” I started laughing. “I guess [her husband] didn’t fill you in….” I said, and proceeded to give her the quick update. Unlike a lot of people who give me endless amounts of crap about my dating habits, they’re fully supportive of them. She’s always reminding me that this is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing at this point in my life. I love it because instead of feeling that what I am doing is a negative thing, they totally see that you date, you change your mind, and you find something else more exciting, challenging, and fun. It’s so good to have people in a happy marriage who support me so much.

She also said some things that made me glow inside. She told me that they think I’m adorable (surprising, considering that I show up at their house on a weekly basis with no makeup on and generally disheveled), and she pointed out that she sees me as being more mature than my peers, and said that she absolutely understands the frustration that comes with trying to date within my age group.

Agreed. But all the old ones are a touch crazy: a 43-year old once asked me to dinner – which I was totally down for – but then told me that his wife left him for the tennis instructor (note to self: never let my husband get a tennis instructor) and texted before our dinner to tell me that he had some weird “viral rash” and that he was fine, but uncomfortable. First of all – what’s a “viral rash”? and second, this is a statement that falls under the “way too much information before the first date” category. Obviously, you can imagine my reaction: there was no first date.

That was a terrible story to end such a happy, rambling blog post.

So here’s this: My first task upon returning to my desk: looking into buying 500 units of logo-branded silly putty. I love my job.

On Volunteering, Excitedly

Posted on August 2, 2012 by kb

Exhaustion to end the week, but the exhaustion is the best kind.

Mike and I have volunteered to be counselors at an adoption camp this weekend. We started today, and will go until Sunday. Mike will be working with middle and high schoolers, and I’ve been assigned to Pre-K. (I can’t even tell you how excited I am! Pre-K is the best time. They’re still so cute and baby-ish, but you can see their future grown-up selves starting to shine through.)

The camp is an African Caribbean Heritage Camp – it’s been held in Denver for 14 years now. Most of the counselors are of African or Caribbean descent, but since Mike and I were both adopted, we fit the counselor profile as well. This year’s theme is: The Colors of Us: Celebrating Transracial Adoption.

We meet the kids tomorrow morning, and Mike will be up early to go on a day-long white water rafting trip. (White-water? Not so much. We had terrible snow this winter, and it’s already August, so I feel like it’ll be more like a float trip with some bumps along the way that will stand in for rapids.)

While the counselors are keeping the kids entertained, the parents are attending different sessions and workshops all centering on adoption, race, and culture. One of the sessions held on Saturday will be discussing white privilege through the lens of transracial adoption. The high school kids will be attending the session with their parents and the counselors, and I think that’s an awesome opportunity for discussion and reflection. I’ll be curious to hear what Mike has to say about it.

Mike and I haven’t gotten to do anything like this since we were in South Africa, and I know that we’re both really looking forward to this weekend.

Cute stories, quickly, before I fall asleep on my keyboard:

My mom’s little neighbor, who’s still working through adoption in her mind, asked me how old I was when I was “traded in” the other day. Hah, I had such a good laugh about that. Traded in, like they just wanted a newer model or something.

AND…..

Guess what I got at Costco today? (Besides a Polish sausage covered in spicy mustard.) Both seasons of Party Down for $11.99. Life is beautiful (and so is Adam Scott).

Going to be a hectic – but very fun – weekend!

On the Zoo, Over-Heatedly

Posted on July 31, 2012 by kb

My mom’s five-year old neighbor is one of the most adorable human beings I’ve ever met. (Last summer, while playing Capture the Flag, she came to let me out of jail – an overturned boat in our shared backyard – and she informed me that “that’s what best friends do.” My heart cracked and overflowed.)

For the last six months or so, she’s been reminding me that I promised her that we’d go to the zoo and have a picnic in City Park and that she’d get to meet Carlos. “I’ve never met a cat before; I’ve never met Carlos,” she tells me.

So on Sunday, my mom, my neighbor, and I piled into the car – she wanted me to sit next to her in the backseat, so I did – and headed to the zoo armed with a picnic lunch. It was too hot, so we didn’t last very long at the zoo. We were able to get about 100 feet into the new elephant exhibit, and we didn’t get to see any penguins.

I’m heartbroken – penguins are my absolute favorite things. Here are penguin pictures from Boulder’s Beach in South Africa:

(Can you tell I’m missing South Africa? Always.)

Anyway, the zoo.

We saw lots of sleeping animals – lions, tigers, kangaroos – it seemed like everyone just wanted to be left alone to sleep in the heat. We rode the zoo train. We had ice cream, and our little friend desperately wanted popcorn, so we had some of that too.

After we left the zoo, we went to my house so she could meet Carlos. I was nervous – Carlos is skittish at best around new people, and he’s never been around a 5-year old.

Carlos loved her. At one point, she kissed him right on the nose. He didn’t flinch. We fed him some wet food (is there a better way to get a cat to sit still?), and she got to scratch his back while he ate.

Then we had a picnic in the park, under the big arches.

We had turkey sandwiches, cucumbers, carrots, leftover popcorn from the zoo, and gummy bears. Then we chased each other around with squirt guns and played frisbee until we were exhausted and ready for sleep.

All in all? A great day. I hope that it was everything she imagined it would be.

On Black Bathrooms, Magically

Posted on July 6, 2012 by kb

Oh my goodness, I love black. It’s one of my absolute favorite colors. After my parents’ divorce, we spent a lot of time moving around – rentals = white walls – and I promised myself that when I got a house, I would paint every room a color.

This home, done in blacks and whites and other neutrals is beautiful. There are parts I’m “meh” on (like the horns; not a big fan of horns), but check out that black and white striped bathroom and tell me that’s not amazing.

While I’m no closer to owning a home than I was at twelve, I’m definitely excited for the possibilities of painting and decorating; although based on the looks of our apartment now, I’m not going to be the most amazing decorator ever. I’m sure that KatieBarry-chic will be its own blend of clutter and color and homeyness and it will be wonderful. (and!….a bathtub with claw-feet!)

Also, I’m realizing that since all I really own are clothes and books, I’m going to need extensive shelving. Either that, or I’ll have to pare down my possessions. (Pssh, not going to get rid of my books, even the romance novels. They’re the best things for rainy days and cold winters.)

I have some free time this weekend (read this as: I am babysitting too much to really have a life), so I think I will begin the process of digging through my closet and trying to donate/sell/eliminate excess clothing. Anything from college (oh dear, or even high school) must go if it doesn’t fit, looks weird, or hasn’t been worn in ages.

This is such a difficult process for me, because I find myself crippled by the “What ifs” as I go through things. “What if I need this?” “It’d be great for a costume party.” – That’s the weirdest thought possible, I think. Who actually goes to that many costume parties that often? I haven’t been to one in at least a year. “This might fit me someday!” – Again, a terrible thought. If it’s more than two sizes too big, it’s got to go. (Which means that most of my man-pants are out. Bummer.)

Ah, well. I assume that I’ll come back to you on Monday only to report that I’ve stared at the closet, become overwhelmed, and bailed on the plan to organize. But one can always hope for great change, right?

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 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 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.

a mile high and then some…

the space between reality and the rest

Category Archives: weekend