A Fallen Icon

A little factoid about the Knowles/Krumbholz/Cook Clan: we rarely ever do things just once. Once is called a trial run, twice is called a make-sure-we-like-it, three times is called a tradition, and the first thing you learn in this family is that NO ONE messes with tradition.

Family Day at the State Fair of Texas is one of these traditions. It has been since forever ago. The Tyler folks drive down together in a big suburban, along the way we listen to tales of Uncle Johnny getting lost and discuss the newest additions to the fried offerings, the first person to see the Dallas skyline gets a quarter, and everyone says "Wait, who has the sunscreen?" at least twice. Then we meet the Dallas relatives at the designated meeting spot, which has been the designated meeting spot since forever ago, mainly because of its proximity to Fletcher's corny dog stand - conducive to grabbing one (or two or three) while you wait for everyone to show up. This designated meeting spot would be Big Tex. The love of every Texan girl's life.

Sadly, though, this pillar of my childhood has gone up in flames. Literally. Big Tex caught on fire. wut. I heard the news via Twitter and almost cried during class. (No hate. I'm just a crier, ok? Call it another one of those Knowles traditions.) I follow a lot of Texas accounts, so I got inundated with photos. Then my father, who up until this point in his 6+ monthlong Twitter career has never found anything worth tweeting, sent out a tweet about it. And then even sent another. Then my mom sent me a text about it. Big Tex = Big Deal to this household. (by the way, props, Dad. you're on your way to making it in the blagosphere, one tweet at a time.)

Big Tex, here's to the years you stood gallant and true, welcoming one and all to the State Fair of Texas. You've gone to the State Fair in the Sky now, cowboy, and we will miss you dearly. One day your successor will rise - may his Wranglers ever be as spiffy as yours always were.

Fall Break Recap

HEY I WENT TO TEXAS. It was fantastic.

Fall Break started with my 8 AM circuits lab, which usually makes me want to flip a lid but this week we were dealing with combinatorial logic - easily my favorite topic in all of circuit theory. It didn't hurt that we were able to finish lab in under the allotted 3 hours. My flight to San Antonio made a pit stop at DFW, and it was trying to sit so close to home for an hour or so without being able to get there. I got over it, though, once I boarded the flight for San Antone and the grooviest brother around. I'll try to refrain from singing his praises too much, so I don't make him blush, but he was waiting at the airport to pick me up before I even got there, took me straight to downtown San Antonio, and directed us to world famous Tex-Mex. Street vendors around the restaurant were peddling all sorts of Mexican wares, so the only obvious course of action was for us to try on multiple goofy hats and purchase the best as finishing touches on our ACL hipster ensembles, and then wear them until we got back to his apartment, right? Right. The night was still young at that point, though, so for good measure we got our minds blown by Looper and ate snuck-in sweetbreads in the theater. Actually sweet breads, as in pastries, not sweetbreads as in animal organs. There was a little confusion on this front, but we cleared it up. (Can I just say hallelujah for the advent of the smartphone? Innumerable are the times that I mention some offhand, unnecessary trivia that can only be validated by on the spot googling.)

Then the next day was ACL Day. Oh, glorious day. After a morning of music videos on the Youtube and an extremely successful trip to the HEB, we met up with some of Brandon's law school friends (who all happen to be wildly attractive ladies. props, Yo-Man) and caravanned down to weird old Austin, just in time for some more Tex-Mex before hitting Zilker Park. Now, I've had a POA for this day since the minute the schedule was released, opting for quality over quantity. So I saw Andrew Bird, The Shins, and Jack White. Ermehgehrdness I loved every minute of it. Andrew Bird was a whistling, violin strumming treat. The Shins were amazing, per usual. And Jack White was unbelievable. He's kind of my hero, and I was about 10 yards from the front of the crowd, right in the thick of things. Not only did he play stuff from his recent solo album, he also played gems from the Raconteurs and the White Stripes. Seven Nation Army, y'all. Live. I was in dorky Jack White lover heaven. Seriously, though, I could go on and on concerning that man. I'll spare y'all. All throughout the day we were subjected to short, albeit torrential, downpours, which just made the whole thing more fun and memorable in my opinion. Due to the rain, I didn't come away with too many pictures. Though I've also tried to stop focusing on picture taking at concerts in order to really enjoy the moment. I hardly ever go back and look at them, so what's the point?

Replete with live music, we filled our bellies with some Whataburger before settling in for the night. The next morning we breakfasted at a diner before parting ways, law students off to study for torts and yours truly passed into the able hands of my parents for the journey east. Where I got to Don Juan's as soon as possible. Then I exercised my power of being an exhausted college student home for a short break. And by that I mean I asked my mom to go to Hastings for me because I was really in the mood for a period drama. YOLO. She brought me Jane Eyre. I want to be Jane Eyre. I want to watch this movie every second for the rest of my life. It was great. The next day, because it would be silly to actually take a break on my break, I undertook to make a t-shirt quilt with my middle school t-shirts. I managed to finish the quilt top and starting the actual quilting before running out of time and thread. Something to look forward to for Thanksgiving, I suppose. That night I got to spend time with my practically sister. We are scarily similar and I love it. She helped me make a tutu for my Halloween costume at our family dinner without batting an eye. This is especially impressive when you consider the fact that "costume" wasn't at all mentioned in the proposition, which went sort of like this: "Will you help me make a tutu?" "Sure."

In short, I love live music, I love Jack White, I love my family, I love food, I love Texas, I love home. Let's do this again sometime, ok, Texas?

It's Almost Heeere

LET ME TELL YOU WHY I'M EMPHATIC ENOUGH TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS.

IN T-2 DAYS I WILL GO HERE

 TO SEE THIS GUY

 

AND WE WILL GO EAT THIS FOOD

 

THEN ROAD TRIP HERE

 

TO SEE THIS GUY 

 

 AND THESE GUYS

 BUT MAINLY THIS GUY

 

AFTER WHICH I WILL GO HERE 

 TO SEE THESE LOVIES

 AND EAT MORE OF THIS

 

 HALLELUJAH, FALL BREAK.

Friday Five

Five Things That I am Sort of Super Proud Of.

5. My vanilla-hazelnut coffee blend: this is by no means anything cool or impressive. I just really really like Einstein Bros. vanilla hazelnut coffee and the departure of the Einstein Bros. from our student center was really cramping my style this year. So I decided it was time to put on my big girl pants and make my own coffee. For the first time. (Call me a princess, but I just sort of assumed that someone else would make my coffee for me for my whole life. That dream is done.) So, basically, all of this is to say that I'm really proud of the fact that I can buy Folgers brand vanilla and hazelnut flavored coffee grounds and mix them together. It's a big deal to me, alright?

4. My heritage: everyone knows I'm from Texas. I make sure of that. I love it, and I am all kinds of proud to be from the greatest nation in the world. And every time you talk about this "Six Flags" you have here in Georgia, I will tell you the origin of the park and the meaning of it's name and list all six flags in order of appearance, regardless of if I've told you before or not. More important than where I come from, though, is who I come from - I am proud as all get out of my family and the values that they have passed down from generation to generation that make me who I am. The majority of my jewelry is heirloom, passed down from my mom and grandma, and I love that it reminds me of the great women who wore it before me and the loving men that gifted it to them.

3. My bookshelf: not to brag, but it's pretty ballin'. I take tons and tons of pictures of my various books/bookshelves, trying (usually failing) to be artsy and cool and Madi. A girl can dream.

2. My babies: I got the mom gene pretty hard. (Not to be confused with mom jeans. I try to stay away from those.) I like to take care of people, then I get really proud of them when they turn out AWESOME under my tutelage. The kids I led in small groups at church, my confirmation kiddos, my 6th 7th grade girls (they grow up so fast!), my EL babies; they all make me so proud that I want to burst and tell everyone "I know them! I know them!"

1. This here little blag: starting off, I never imagined anyone other than my parents and grandparents (and probably the mahjong ladies) would read my incoherent thoughts. Then I came to a technical institute and my incoherent thoughts became more than just a hobby, they became a necessity. I'm proud to have retained this appreciation of words and the freedom of language at a stage in my life where accuracy and numbers and computers and formulas and proficiency are considered "the most important thing".

0. My God: I belong to Him? *brushes shoulders off*

What are you proud of?

birfdaze

Today is a good day. Why? Because as I was walking to class, I passed the same French lady and her dog as I do every morning. And every morning I want so badly to pet this dog. Every. Morning. After I passed, I head French exclamations, felt a nuzzle on my hand, and looked back to see that the pup had followed me and was begging me to throw her tennis ball. So I did.

Today is also a good day because it is a remarkable day of birth. Not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR awesome birthdays are today.

K-Fed and I survived Croatia together and have the friendship bracelets to prove it.

Taabish gives me advice about boys and physics.

SB, aka Snuggs and Kisses, makes my life more exciting.

And now, the pièce de résistance,

The brosky, who's been mentoring me in the ways of fashion since '92.

It's the Little Things

Here are some that have happened recently:

Seeing a komodo dragon
Sending off a bunch of postcards
Skyping a mom, a dad, and a dog
White nectarines
Trolling Saruman
Having a good experience at the grocery store
Contact from friends
Throwing myself a tea party
Finding the perfect souvenir for someone
Eastern Europe
My Utmost for His Highest
Reading 1/4 of War and Peace
Licorice cookies
Holding hands with an old lady
Disney Princess socks
Creeping on Russia pictures
Feeling His provision

Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart!*

*yes, I have had this scene from Anastasia on repeat in my mind all week.

Threes were the theme of our visit to Paris.

We took three bike tours. Three. Now, I am not a bike tourist, but I did my best. The first was a day tour of the city, hitting most of the highlights and big sights. The second was a tour of the grounds and gardens of Versailles, and by far my favorite despite the chilly/drizzly weather. After biking along wide paths through the grounds and we got to stop alongside the channel for a picnic. An Australian shared her nougat with us and a Pittsburghian told me the best way to learn French was to get a French boyfriend. (By this logic, the best way to learn emag is to get an electromagnetic boyfriend. Hit me up, all you electrifying fella's.) The third tour was a night tour, meaning we were navigating the streets of Paris during the busiest time for both motor and pedestrian traffic. On bikes. In a herd of people (mainly flight attendants). All in yellow vests. Except me, who for some unknown reason was given an orange vest. This was not my favorite, but I did it. I bike toured thrice in three days. And patted myself on the back and bought a Fat Tire Bike Tours cap to congratulate myself. Huzzah!

I went three times to art museums. Our first night (Friday) the Louvre was open late, so my parents and I went for a preliminary walk through. This ended up being one of our best ideas, since the crowds around the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, and other bigshots were nowhere near what they were like when we went back Monday morning. And since we had already checked those off the list on Friday night, we got to spend our visit on Monday morning in the less crowded wings where we saw the Lacemaker and Hammurabi's Code. (Call me crazy, but I was jump-up-and-down excited to see Hammurabi's Code whereas the rest of my family took it like champs. I credit Mrs. Marler.) Double the Louvre, double the love. Visit number three was to Musee L'Orsay, where Impressionists and others are displayed in an old train station. Saw some Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, and my favorite, Degas. Pretty dang cool.

We had glaces from three different shops. One was a sidewalk stand on Rue Cler - our home base. I got chocolate and berry cheesecake. The next was another cafe on Rue Cler (that ended up being a chain, but what evs, they made the ice cream look like flowers in the cone). I got chocolate and nutella. The third was during our night bike tour - definitely the highlight of the tour - from a little cafe near the neighborhood where Johnny Depp either lived or lives. I got Cacoa Intense 65% Noir (uhh - yum) and the inevitable mis-order. Mirabelle. It sounded so lovely, but ended up being a sort of peach sorbet. That's not ice cream, y'all. So I ate the chocolate scoop off the top and gave the rest to my mom.

I ordered three drinks from three different Starbucks on three different days in order to utilize their free wifi to check Twitter (a must) and avert crisis, aka, buy Feast For Crows after finishing Storm of Swords. Earl Grey, caffe latte, caffe noir, if you were wondering.

Brandon asked me three times where I got my sweater vest. It's from the Gap.

And of course other things happened that weren't in threes. Such as seeing the Eiffel Tower, buying pants when my legs were cold, eating lots of chocolate, buying corkscrews double the cost of wine, eating lots of bread, strolling through gardens, browsing street markets, many metros, sibling Game of Thrones reading siestas, and the like.

Moseying through the Mosel

This past weekend I met the 'rents and my brother in the Mosel Valley region of Germany. (First trip across the pond for 3/4 of the Cook Clan shout-out!) Our tour started in Cochem, where we ate ice cream - that I ordered in German, y'all - and strolled through the streets until catching a train to our accommodations in Moselkern. Disclaimer: most of our activities this weekend can be found in Rick Steve's Guide to Germany. Rick Steves says "jump", we say "how high, and when should we do it to avoid the most crowds and get the best deal?"

Here's the thing about training around the Mosel Valley (and probably many other places in Germany): there are castles everywhere. Just like banks in Tyler. One on every corner. Our first full day of the weekend was split between roaming Burg Rheinfels in St. Goar and wine tasting in Bacharach. Rheinfels was amazing. It's basically the ruins of the largest castle overlooking the Rhein. And it has no structured tours or rule enforcement whatsoever. Which means anyone who chooses to can scale turrets, climb through windows, descend into underground tunnels, and army crawl through crumbling passageways. Yes, please. Danny - who braved the daunting task of traveling with the Cooks - and I ended the morning caked in German Castle Dust and having found ourselves more times on the wrong side of boundaries than the safe side. In other words, it was a success. After hiking back down we caught the train to Bacharach for some more hiking/exploring and a lazy-Susan filled with glasses of the wines that the region is known for. 

It would seem that the day couldn't have been any better, but the train ride back put the cherry on top of this travel sundae. We happened to share a train car with a group of Germany's Special Olympics athletes as well as a group of partying middle aged Germans. After filling the car with rounds of German drinking songs and toasts, the three or so couples started talking to the Olympians and asking them all about their medals and events and the like. Soon enough, one of the ladies turns around in her seat, looks straight at Danny, and starts rattling off in German. Danny responds as anyone would when being talked at in a foreign language - smile, shrug, look around, stammer, plus any combination of the four - before saying, "I'm American." Fortunately for us, this lady speaks "excellent English!" and proceeds to ask, "ahnd vwaaht shport do you play?" to which Danny responds and they talk about soccer for awhile. At this point, my entire family is in tears for laughing so hard, and after the party de-trained at the next stop we explain to Danny how he was just mistaken for a Special Olympics competitor. One that didn't medal, to boot.

The next day we hiked up a nature trail to Burg Elz and took a tour before leaving Moselkern for the medieval walled city of Rothenburg. We'd been seeing folks in medieval dress all over the train stations, and Rothenburg just so happened to be their destination. The city was hosting a huge, four day renaissance fair that weekend, adding even more charm to the city in the form of campfires, drums, folk songs, etc. We took the Rick Steves recommended Night Watchman's Tour and then ate dinner in Hell. Right outside of it, rather. Later that evening Brandon and I walked around the fair, enjoying the local culture and the musical stylings of a band with members ranging in age from 20-67 and repertoire stretching from Adele covers to Summer of '69 to oompa-pa's. The next day we walked the city wall and my mom and I poked around the renaissance craft fair, a bakery, and a Christmas store before starting the long haul back to Metz.

In short: I love Germany. All of the people I came in contact with were super nice. Germans like to have good, clean, fun. They actually do dance the do-si-do-swing-around-to-the-boring-part-of-the-chicken-dance-dance. Everyone sings. And they have castles. Let's all be a little more German.

From the desk of...

Well, the Housing Department managed to fix our HVAC unit to blow cold air. This is a monumental occasion, seeing as I can finally close my window for more than 8 minutes without being stifled and at risk of asphyxiation. That...was an overreaction. (please read the previous sentence as if you were the Nard-Dog after punching your hand through a wall.) Hyperbole aside, I'm thrilled to be able to close my window. Now I can reset my pictures and knick-knacks without fearing they'll be blown over periodically by gusts of wind. And since I enjoy lists and sharing mundane information, here's a catalog of the flotsam and jetsam littering my desk:

• fancy Kleenex
• flash cards from last semester
• 3 PEZ dispensers - Belle, Pooh, and a BYU football
• a model TIE interceptor
• flashlight
• mug from Steak and Shake
• blank index cards
• way too many writing utensils than practical
• Eat Mor Chikin cow
• teacup from Cafe Intermezzo
• Millard the Hedgehog
• digital Burger King Star Wars watch, in collector's tin
• a Nalgene and a Camelbak
• framed photographs - Halloween circa 1998, atop Judge Baylor, at the HPDHP2 premiere, roomies, with Lord Vader, Mission Week 2011, with my favorite SBDT '10-'11 O
• travel coffee mug in need of a wash*
• empty jar of Smuckers Natural, complete with dirty spoon*
• desk lamp
• Han Solo
• The Fundamentals of Fluid Mechanics
• fingernail clippers
• iTunes giftcard
• handwritten Bible verses - Romans 12:12, Psalm 23:1-4
• TI-nspire, sans batteries

*in my defense, these items are only a day old.

In unrelated news, my grandparents were here last weekend! It was the bomb. And my mom plus my bestie and her mom (and one of my practically-moms) will be here starting tomorrow! I'm planning a dissertational post in which I compare and contrast the particulars of each visit and thence conclude which of the two made the most lasting impression. Jokes. In truth, I'm planning an "oh-my-gracious-I-love-visitors" post in which I detail why my family/friends are the most ballin' people on the planet. Hold on to your hats!

Some Day-to-Day

If it had to be my last week in Texas, you had better believe I was going to make it count, starting with New Year's celebrations hot and fresh off of a ski trip. Celebrations that included charades, spontaneous shuffling, fire building, s'mores, leaping over open flame, never ever have I ever, a fair share of laughter, and one wicked hat. On New Year's day, you bet your boots I ate a heaping serving of black-eyed peas for good luck. Then, the jam packed week began.

Monday Gunday. Most people, when you express a longing to shoot guns, give a quick titter before briskly walking away and giving you odd glances across the room. Other people, like my grandpa, take a moment to think, then say, "Well, we'll need some guns. Give me a week." Then the next time you go to their house they have multiple firearms spread out in the guest bedroom. Then they pick you up and take you out to some property where you can shoot off multiple rounds of ammunition at targets that look like squirrels. True story. I shot a .22 rifle, a .22 pistol, a .357 magnum, a .38 special, and a 20 gauge. Variety is the spice of life, my friends. Plus, nothing says grandparent-grandchild bonding time quite like bullseyes and sporting clays.

Tuesday Two-Stepping. Not that it has anything to do with two-stepping, but on Tuesday I found my absolute, hands down, favorite pair of socks, which have been MIA for the past six months or so. They are fleece and irreplaceable. They were hiding, and I was afraid I had lost them forever. Very afraid. But the world is set right and I have my fleece socks again, so everyone can stop worrying. In the evening, though, my dad did transform the living room into a dance floor, put on the George Strait, and dusted off his figurative boogie shoes in order to teach me how to two-step. He also threw in some waltz and polka lessons pro bono.

Wednesday Unbirthday Party. Wednesday was not my birthday. But we did have a birthday party. Before the birthday party, though, I learned how to pwn Settlers of Catan. And I singlehandedly brought back the usage of pwn. My unbirthday party was at Jucy's, because I like my burgers done Jucy's style. I also like how their styrofoam cups are conducive to jabbing your entire thumb through while trying to put on the lids, which then sends Diet Dr. Pepper streaming down your front. Not that that has ever happened. Thank goodness the only people I invited to my unbirthday were related to me. They had to claim me, Diet Dr. Pepper stained socks and all.

Thursday Day Trip. The Picnic Club saddled up in Calpurnia and headed to Dallas to see Hugo. We were approached on our way into the theater by a guy who had lost his wallet, still managed to have a $50 gift card to the movie theater, needed to get to Fort Worth, so wanted to sell the card for $35 cash. Needless to say, we were all highly confused. It was one of those situations where you know you're supposed to say no, but you don't know why. So we said no. Then we said yes, verified the card did indeed have $50 on it (actually, $49), then saved $14. Holler! After the movie, we headed to the world's largest honky tonk in order to catch Wendell's line dancing lesson. We learned the mockingbird, which is, in fact, a real song, not just a scene from Dumb and Dumber. We put everyone else on the floor to shame with our linedancing and pretzeling and I-learned-this-on-YouTubing.

Friday Farewells. Lunch at Stanleys, boot shopping (and eventually buying), unbelievably amazing Christmas gift exchanging, letters to missionaries writing, ZOTZ eating, wondering why I can't just be packed in your suitcase for Spain. And now, to cap it all off, packing. By the way, ZOTZ are super gross.

The Break

In a nutshell,

we drove.

we ate.

we Christmas-ed.

we Quelfed.

we took part in some drive-by shootings.

we Christmas-ed some more.

we made snowflakes.

we flew.

we skied.

we ate.

we hiked up and subsequently skied down.

we watched Firefly.

we ate.

we shopped.

we watched football.

we flew.

we ate.

we watched football.

And I've been reading and acquiring new penpals and avoiding all sorts of responsibility. But, hey, it's break.

Giving Thanks

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.
Colossians 2:6-7

It seems that overflowing with thankfulness is something I oftentimes forget to do. I'm grateful only for fleeting moments until anxieties and worries rear their nasty heads. Why is it that bad mojo always inhabits 90% of thought, time, and energy, whereas stuff that brings joy and contentment is kept to a mere 10%? This is one of the many reasons why I love Thanksgiving. A whole day devoted to overflowing with thankfulness. My family has had Thanksgiving at our Lakehouse ever since we've had the Lakehouse, barring the year I was in second grade and we went to New York, but even then the rest of our family was still at the Lakehouse having Thanksgiving. And we've had the Lakehouse for a pretty long time. My great-grandfather built it. I should probably know when. (I don't.) Regardless, Thanksgiving meal at the Lake is tradition. Was tradition. Earlier this fall, the Lakehouse was consumed by the wildfires rolling across East Texas. This Thanksgiving was our first without the Lakehouse. It was weird. We were able to feast at a family member's cabin close by, so after eating we drove to Bear Creek for the customary walk around the Lake, only this time included a walk through the rubble as well. At a point in our afternoon, the family gathered to share what we were thankful for. Now, when we do this, we go oldest to youngest. This means that all of the obvious answers are taken by the time it comes to me. On one hand, I don't want to just repeat what everyone else has said, but on the other hand I feel like a jerk when everyone else is thankful "to be here together" and I say something like "Mexican food". It's a conundrum. Usually I try to split the difference and say something unique, but still pertaining to everyone else. This year was no exception. I'm thankful that, even though we loved the Lakehouse, even though I would pick the Lakehouse over anywhere else in the world to have Thanksgiving, even though the tradition and memories reside there, even though it's been this way for longer than I can remember, we still get together as a family, we still have Thanksgiving, and no matter where we are we can still overflow with thankfulness.

I think I got comfortable with the Lake being the place for Thanksgiving. That's where we give thanks. That's where we count our blessings. That's where we overflow with thankfulness. Really, though, we should be doing all of those things regardless of where we are or what day of the year it is. So my Thanksgiving resolution, born from the ashes, is to overflow with thankfulness. All. The. Time. Besides, isn't that what we've been called to do all along?

What was:

What is:

What a Weekend

This weekend has pretty much felt like a weird vacation. It seems like my year's quota for randomly amazing happenings has been filled in the past few days. Kicking things off was my mother's arrival in Hotlanta. What a treat! We spent all day Thursday shopping, complete with a Flying Biscuit finale. Friday brought more shopping and a brother, who drove in from Auburn to eat dinner with us and one of my roommates. At Hankook Taqueria, nonetheless. On Saturday, we met for breakfast at a tiny diner called the Silver Skillet. It was like stepping through a time warp. After all these Rose Festival shenanigans are over, I aim to return for a piece of coconut pie...Sadly, it was time to say goodbye to the madre afterwards, and as she and Brandon made their way to the airport, I made my way through scrounging up an extra ticket to the student section. It was high time for old Brandon Taylor to experience some football Yellow Jacket style. We stung Maryland, remain undefeated, and Brandon caught the ricochet of a field goal. A success, I'd say. After the game, I had just enough time to quickfire shower and dress for Wicked at the Fox. Goodness gracious, it was just as wonderful as I'd remembered. Seeing it for the second time was no less magical than the first. The voice talent was a little lacking in comparison to the original Broadway soundtrack that I've grown accustomed to, but that's only to be expected. Plus, going to the Fox is almost worth it, in and of itself.

Just when it seems like nothing could happen to make this weekend anymore strange yet wonderful, Sunday rolls around and with it, the first ever Alpha Chi Omega Dodging Domestic Violence Dodgeball Tournament. I was a crucial member of the raddest team on the courts - KAMBD. We tore up the bracket, nabbing two wins and an almost, which is more than many teams that were out there can say. At one point, we lost our A and had to bring in a boot and slimfit clad Brandon to fill out the roster. On our already amusing team, it made for quite a spectacle. But team sports didn't end there, because Sunday is intramural sand volleyball day. We beat the two girls we played against pretty quickly, so the team, with the addition of a slimfit clad Brandon, stayed after to scrimmage.

And then, AND THEN, Brandon and I met up with his roommate and roommate's girlfriend to walk to the Georgia Dome for the Falcons/Packers game. And once we got to the Dome, we marched straight up to the information table and asked where to go pick up our sideline passes. Sideline passes. We were escorted by a lovely man named Alfred through the Dome down to field level, where we swapped escorts and were led through the tunnels to the field. As we walked by the Packers' locker room, we saw two players walking toward us. Guess who? Jordy Nelson and Matt Flynn. Now, Jordy Nelson is a tad more well known than Matt, but that Tyler pride runs deep. Brandon yelled, "Matt Flynn! Matt Flynn! We're from Tyler!" and I threw up finger guns and yelled, "We went to Robert E. Lee! Go Red Raiders!". Then we walked on, grinning from ear to ear because we had discussed what we would say if we saw him all day, never expecting to actually see him. We stood on the sidelines of the endzone for the entire warmup period, extremely close to several ginormous gentlemen. Football players are big, y'all. Brandon caught another field goal. Eventually, the Packers all huddled up and did their final thing, and when that was done, who other than Matt Flynn himself walked over to us and said, "Y'all are the ones from Tyler, right?" We replied, "Yes, yes we are." And then he proceeded to introduce himself to us! "I'm Matt." Handshakes, all around. "When'd you graduate?" Brandon told him '08. "Y'all go to school down here?" "No, we don't, but she goes to Tech." I smiled, he smiled. "Y'all enjoy the game." And that is how I met Matt Flynn.

Most. Surreal. Weekend. Ever.

Guess What?

This one will be here in less than a week. Hopefully Atlanta will be ready for Lil' Debs. I know I sure am.

Shedding What's Left of my Summer Skin

Well, I am in Atlanta. Got here on Tuesday. It's a long story. So here goes.

After my last day of work, I was supposed to have two weeks before moving back to ATL and starting my second semester at Tech. On the schedule for Monday was wisdom teeth extraction, then two/three days recovery, then a week and a half of pure, blissful, uninterrupted summer. Apparently it takes longer than two days for your cheeks to return to normal size and your jaw to open normal width and your gums to heal, putting me incapacitated on the couch for a good week. I didn't do much. And amidst my stupor I received an email from the faculty adviser for Emerging Leaders reminding us of our leadership retreat the next Wednesday. When my plans were to drive the 12 hours on Thursday. Thursday is after Wednesday. Cue change of plans. Now my two weeks of summer have been chopped from both ends, leaving me with Sunday and Monday. Two days. Cue speed packing.

Sunday was church and Don Juan's and some other stuff that I can't remember right now. Monday was oral surgeon appointment, Target run, lunch with Gran Jan plus mom, chunking the disk (frisbee), Sonic, packing, and the last Picnic Club shindig of the summer. I love my friends. They are da bomb. And that was the end of my summer.

Now it's time for a new semester. A new year. A new start. This year is going to look slightly different for me, and I am super pumped about all of the changes. First off, after giving sorority life my best shot, I decided that it was not for me and dropped at the end of last semester. No drama, it just wasn't my speed. Second, I applied, interviewed, and was selected as an Emerged, aka a sophomore adviser for Emerging Leaders, the Freshmen Leadership Organization that I was a part of last year. This is exciting. I cannot wait to love love love forty freshmen and help them assimilate into college life. I also cannot wait to roll with the other Emerged. Which brings me to my third point: friends. Last year, on the first night in my shoebox sized dorm room, alone because my roommate came with two boyfriends and moved in only part of her stuff before going back home for three or four more days, I locked the door at 9 probably and Facebook stalked my high school friends until midnight probably when I finally clambered into my bed and cried myself to sleep. Then I woke up the next morning and knew two people on campus. Then my parents left and I knew zero. This year, THIS YEAR, I spent my first day on campus with ten of Tech's finest, aka the Emerged, planning, learning, laughing, and altogether preparing for this year. Then I moved into my apartment, which is no huge space, but compared to my room last year it is the Taj Mahal. And I love it. And it is super adorable. And then, AND THEN, I had a friend over. We stayed up entirely too late catching up on each other's summers and drinking tea. He talked about his job, I talked about mine. He made fun of Texas, I shot him dirty looks. Around midnight thirty, one of my lovely roommates came over with load number one of her stuff, and we had our first apartment party, complete with Melba Snacks. Um, yes, I would say this year has the potential to be a bit better than last. My high school friends are irreplaceable, and will always be my besties, but praise the Lord that last semester and, by the looks of it so far, this semester, are adding to my friend coffers.

Since my mom and I are wonderwomen and unloaded all of my stuff from my car and my dad is superman and woke up early to be in Atlanta at a decent hour to unload the stuff from his car and help arrange the apartment all on Wednesday, we had today to play. And play we did. At the North Georgia Premium Outlets. I love outlet shopping. And now I've just about run out of steam, but before I crashed I wanted to get all of this out so that all you diligent readers know what's up. Then I put a really indie song lyric title, just for Madi, 'cause I know how indie you are.

I Couldn't Be Happier

So sometimes, I have really good days. Really, really, good days. Not like I'm trying to brag or anything, but I have really good days.

Today was a really good day. It was my last day of work, huzzah! Not that I didn't enjoy my job - I enjoyed it to the moon and back. It's just really exciting to end one phase of life and start a new one. And, being my last day, my boss took me out to lunch with my very favorite parents and two of my very favorite mission folk to one of my very favorite restaurants. Can't beat that. She also presented me with the sweetest "Thanks for being a good mission intern, I had lots of fun" token of appreciation. It's a bracelet. I'm wearing it right now.

If that isn't enough good crammed into one day, I got off work early, and got to come home and watch Project Runway with mi madre. Then two of our favorite girlies came by to pay a visit, and we got to talk about crafts and Project Runway and ladies spotted in Marshalls.

AND THEN...my dad came home from work with my new car! Yippee skippee! Just when things were starting to look bleak on the car front, this awesome prospect cropped up. I'm super pumped. I've never had "my own car" before - the one I've been driving since high school was a pass down from the brosky.

My parents have gone out to dinner with some friends. You would think eating alone would put a damper on such a good day, but I really like it from time to time. It helps, too, that my very favorite food group was on the menu. Sweet Potatoes. They deserve their own food group. Plus, I had Van Morrison blasting creating ambiance in the background to keep me company. After dinner, I retired to the playroom and starting making friendship bracelets while the music played. The CD finished after a while, and I got up to change it out, but became bold. I've been curious about turntables and records for a long while now, but I've never had the guts to do anything about it. Every so often I'd mention maybe one day my dad could show me how to use his turntable, but nothing ever came of it. And my dad's records have always been, from my perspective, off limits. It was never said in so many words, I just have always had the feeling that nobody should be touching this prized collection of audio. So...I just did it. I picked out a nice Dolly record from his collection and fumbled my way through to the right stereo settings. Maybe it's just me, but there is something extremely more satisfying about listening to vinyl than to CDs or MP3s. Probably because, to me, it's a novelty and something unexpected.

Then, I talked to one of the coolest people I know via Twitter - disclaimer: I love Twitter. - and we've set up a gameday dress making party. Not to mention, she gave the tip off that the quill was up for Pottermore, and I got into the early registration! Still not real sure as to what all of this is, but if it's Harry Potter Mania, you'd better believe I'm there no matter what.

So, that's the really good day. Nothing extraordinary by some standards, but to me it was really, really, good. In fact, I'm a little overwhelmed. Not to mention, it all has the potential to carry on to tomorrow, when I *hopefullyhopefullyhopefully* get to meet Bruce from Swamp People.

They're All Catching Up to You

Well, it seems as if I am utterly incapable of taking a day off. On this lovely three day weekend, instead of watching movies and TV and eating hot dogs and apple pie, I somehow decided to begin a huge undertaking - the conversion of my desk into a crafting space. Here's the thing: I have way too many t-shirts taking up space in my room, which I want to use for a t-shirt quilt, which would free up lots of floor and drawer room. Well, what's wrong with that, you ask? My intention for the new surface area is a crafting space. To make a t-shirt quilt. To make room for a crafting space. With which I will make a t-shirt quilt.

CATCH-22

Finding myself in a catch-22 today did not deter my room overhaul, but it has found me spending the night in my brother's room because of all the crud that is layered on my own bed. Not to worry, though; he's out camping somewhere in northern Alabama and won't know until he reads this. And then it will be too late to stop me.

Despite all of the dust and drudgery, I've found it very cathartic to go through and finally throw away many useless possessions to which I've been clinging for years. I'm a keeper, of everything, and it catches up to me in the form of uncontrollable clutter. It has also been fun to dig up old treasures and remember the stories attached to them, especially while reconfiguring all of my sewing materials. My grandma, Gran Jan, taught me how to sew a long, long time ago, when I would go to her house and spend hours cutting out patterns and stitching together ponchos and skirts for my American Girl dolls and sometimes getting in trouble when I left before collecting all of the straight pins that I had stuck in the orange couch. Gran Jan also gave me my first sewing kit, along with a sewing basket that belonged to my great-great-grandmother, both complete with needles and notions from way back when. Resurfacing all of those neat belongings and memories has been so much fun, even if it robs me of having any time to veg. And I can't wait to finally have a space devoted to crafting, as opposed to my former location in the dog's room.

(Hi Gran Jan! I hope you and Bub are having a fine time in Alaska!)

Wisdom From a Fiver

We went over to Longview today to help my aunt and uncle move houses. In between odd jobs, I found myself with a gun pointed at me. Naturally, I chased the intruder upstairs with the two pieces of shelf liner I had in my hands at the time of attack.

The gun was plastic. The intruder was my 5 year old cousin. Once upstairs, and after a pretty stellar battle that included her 6 year old brother, she proceeded to unleash the wisdom of her years:

"Your new name is potty." *giggle uncontrollably* "No, your new name is, your new name is - don't tell Brandon this, or he might hug you - the cutest girl in town. That's what boys say before they're about to kiss you."

Noted.

On that Midnight Train to Georgia

Day 001, 13.01.2011
A birthday showing of Beauty and the Beast, my all-time favorite Disney princess tale, at the Fantastic Fox Theatre, Atlanta.

Day 002, 14.01.2011
Lunch with Dad at the Varsity after class. What'll ya have?! Orange Drank, and make it frosty.

Day 003, 15.01.2011
All aboard the Midnight Train! Destorying napkins, one at a time, at Gladys and Ron's (as in Gladys Night, y'all) Chicken and Waffles.

I've run into an issue with this Project 365 mumbo jumbo. Some days, I just take more than one cool picture! But, alas, my dad is not in Atlanta every day, so the coolness factor of my days will probably decrease after tomorrow. Not shown in the pictures from January 14th is me officially becoming a Zipster and driving my first Zipcar - in Atlanta, to boot - and a really neat, artsy type movie theater where Dad and I saw The King's Speech. Two thumbs way, way up. Plus, I carted home a free Javier Bardem poster. Not shown in the pictures from January 15th is exploration of Atlanta by foot and by car, a visit to CamiCakes cupcakes (deeee-lish), and an impromptu hall birthday party.

I think FoodNetwork should create a checklist of all the restaurants they feature. I could check off quite a few. And Heaven knows I do love checking off lists.

I Know the Meaning of These Nineteen Years*

*The title of this post is taken from Les Miserables song lyrics that have been stuck in my head all day. I don't know the meaning of life. Coincidentally, though, I have been alive for nineteen years. Which brings us to...

Today was my birthday. I woke up kind of dreading it. It was my first birthday away from home. I knew that my dad was planning to come to Atlanta and take me to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fantastic Fox Theater, but at the time I went to bed it was still up in the air as to whether or not his flight would be cancelled (pun always intended). Needless to say, not a great feeling to wake up with. Then I decided to make some tea and I spilled my entire electric tea kettle full of warming water on the ground. Oh boy. And because of the snowpocalypse I had no breakfast food in my room, forcing me to eat the top of a Chick-Fil-A bun instead. Then I read my Jesus Calling for January 13, 2011 and it was like Sarah Young knew I was going to be alone on my birthday for the very first time. She says, in God's perspective, "Thank Me for this day of life, recognizing that it is a precious, unrepeatable gift. Trust that I am with you each moment, whether you sense my presence or not." After reading that, I decided to thank God for my birthday each time I started internally whining. Can you believe my day got better? Because it sure did.

First of all, my morning classes were already cancelled, but I got an email announcing that my afternoon lab was cancelled as well. So, I watched two episodes of Friday Night Lights - Season One, my new TV obsession. I decided that I could marry Matt Seracen. Just might, if given the chance. Then the mass influx of Facebook "happy birthday!"s came. For the first time ever, I made it a point to individually thank everyone for the birthday wishes. It really made me realize how blessed with friends I am, even if this was the first time I'd heard from some of these people since middle school. Not to play favorites, but I was really impressed by the sentiments from Robert Goulet's wife, Vera. The mail at GaTech was finally up and running, so I was able to pick up a package which had been sitting there since finals week. Yes, it was from one of my best friends. And yes, it was an instrumental Whitney Houston CD. After some quality Big/Little study time my dad arrived! He came bearing gifts, even though I asked for nothing but Beauty and the Beast and Rose Festival. So, I opened my Hot Tamales, 8 gig flash drive, journal, and Bananagrams before getting ready for the evening. The Evening = Molly, Dad, Roomie, and Big all bundling up and braving the icy sidewalks to walk to dinner and then the Fox. May I say, stunning? gorgeous? unbelievable? And I'm not just talking about the girls, har har har. The Fox was breathtaking. And the show was such fun. And I would say more but I'm saving it for a time when I'm not blogging 'til my eyelids droop shut. (Jonathan Toomey, anyone?)

Long story short, birthday was made great by the plethora of simple pleasures gracing every turn.

In other, yet related, news, I've decided to start a Project 365! One picture a day for a whole entire year. Being my birthday, today is the first day, but forgive me for not uploading and editing the picture yet.