On twitter, Jell-O eggs, and Easter

I swear I'll stop blogging in ten minutes, but in light of recent weird twitter postings, I have to tell you a story:

So this morning, something monumental happened (he loves me!) and of course, I panicked and got weird. While I was being weird, I was reminded of a poem that I wrote in high school about this very situation (funny enough, I acted the exact same way then). I tried to google it to find it and instead, wound up with one result.

Of course I clicked on it.

Apparently, the University of Iowa spent some time logging tweets about airport security during the first quarter of 2010. I made it into their files. Hilariously enough, my tweet from March 30, 2010 reads:

11314516444 KatieMaryBarry 3/30/2010 10:49 AM My first year not going home to see the family. On the plus side, I don't have to try to get Jell-O eggs through airport security. #Easter

Why does this make me laugh?

Every year my Aunt Jan makes Jell-O eggs for Easter. They're my favorite. They're weird and slimy but so cute and who doesn't love Jell-O? (The evidence is mounting that I'm an 80-year old in a 23-year old body.)

I was flying back home to Chicago with my bag of leftover Jell-O eggs. Of course I was going to take them home with me...waste them, are you kidding? This was right during the implementation of the liquid/gels prohibition and of course, the TSA man stops my bag of eggs.

An argument about the matter state of Jell-O ensued, with him claiming that they count as a gel and me claiming that they're a solid. (Technically, he may have been right.) Finally, I made him feel them because they were still cold from the refrigerator. My logic? No idea.

Then, I told him I would eat the entire bag right there at the checkpoint. (I'm always this sassy [antagonistic? obnoxious?] at 6 in the morning, trust me. One time, my mom got a thumbs up from a random because I told a dude - who would not shut up about how he got to carry a gun because he was with the sheriff's office - to please keep it down in the waiting area. Complete with bring-it-down silencing hand motion.)

He let me through and when I got back to Chicago, I'm 80% sure that the eggs had gotten overheated during their ordeal and were back to a sticky-goo state and therefore inedible. Bummer. (No one tell Aunt Jan! There's still a 20% chance I enjoyed them!)

On Future Plans

What do I do when things get weird? Well, there are a few responses, but most of them include a serious increase in wild adventures and questionable decisions.

I always think of Mike whenever these things happen. He'd tell me one of two things (they both come from our favorite movies):
      -When life gives you lemons, say "Fuck the Lemons!" and bail.
      -or... Rule #72: No excuses, play like a champion.

I have a feeling this is one of those Rule #72 moments.

So, in keeping with those traditions of panic and drastic life-altering adventures, I made plane reservations. Be glad that I can't afford tickets to Kenya; my roommate from South Africa, Margaret, is turning 50 this year and spending it doing work with women there. She invited me along! Perhaps I'll start pinching pennies and try to make the trip out there before she leaves her year-long post.

I'm going to Chicago in February to spend a weekend with my old friends. Swisher will have just had ACL surgery, so he'll be needing some care. (Not that I'm going to be proficient in providing any sort of care. I'm more of an errand-runner.) I haven't seen Anne's face since I was out there in July. And I would love to be able to snuggle with Maddie and Patrick. (Patrick remains my all-time-number-one-wingman for the incident of the Irish and the whiskey. I will love him until I die.)

The best one, though?
March. New York City. The Katies.
Katie has an interview out there and wanted someone to go along. So I am lucky enough to be her traveling companion. I am beyond thrilled. I am so grateful for this opportunity. I can't even begin to tell you how bright this spot is in my otherwise complicated life-situation. We are going to spend four days being wonderful and wild all over New York. I dug around in my purse for my thank-you notes to send to her father, who graciously picked up my plane tickets, but found them to be covered in blush and the envelopes unusable. So I still sent him one - minus the blush - (in my excitement, I just want to say "Thank-You!" right away!) but included a note apologizing for the janky nature of the packaging (regular envelopes, not the cute ones). He'll understand.

There are still adventures to be had. Life isn't over yet. It never is. One thing that I do love about my workplace is the support. We're mostly women, and since I'm the baby, I get the coddling that I sometimes really need. Today, I needed it. My lady boss, who I respect like nobody else, told me that I was going to be fine and that life is just one set of ups and downs after another. I realize that you can hear that said twenty times, but for some reason, I'm always ready to listen to her advice. So I'm letting it stick. This is just a down. There will be other ups.

This time for Africa

It's been a year since the epic adventure that was Cape Town began...

I've not got the words at the moment, so here's the music video for the song that I most closely associate with our time there.

When I got there, that very first night, my German roommate Svenja and my host mom Priscilla (Mama P, affectionately) played this song and we danced to it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRpeEdMmmQ0

The Chicago Trip

I didn't blog about my Chicago trip last time, either.

I didn't take any pictures this time, which I'm kind of bummed about.

I think it's because I never know what to say. I don't want to say too much, but I feel like saying too little would damage the experience.

It was perfect.

S picked me up at the airport like a gentleman. He was right on time, too. I misread the text directing me to a quieter pick up location, so he had to do an airport loop to fetch me.

Saturday included a grocery store run, sushi and BLTs for brunch (don't ask - it made me very happy), a softball game - I forgot my sunglasses and nearly died in the heat, and his dad's birthday party. I was determined not to be stressed, and so I wasn't. (That's worked twice this weekend, but failed miserably once. So I'm shooting 2 for 3 on mastering stress.)

It was a very lovely evening. I spent it eating chocolate cake and talking to a million people. I reminded his grandmother that we'd met previously - when she told me she wanted to trip a 4th grader at a basketball game. It was great. I really hope that the consensus was solidly in my favor at the end of the evening.

Sunday was a calm day. I made that watermelon salad and headed to a friend's BBQ. I forgot how hard it is to park in Edgewater (just south of Rogers Park!). The BBQ had been moved inside, thank g-d, because it was miserably warm outside. I went outside to inspect the new grill, stayed outside for about five minutes, and came directly back in.

Then we headed to his mom's for dinner. His mom is also wonderful.

After one too many White Russians, I declared that we need to leave "now!" And so he took me home. That's when, overwhelmed by my own emotions, I began to cry. Such a noob mistake, I can't believe I did that. At least I made it back to the safety of his house so I won't be known in his house as "the girl who cried" for the rest of my life.

Upon missing my flight and spending the morning laying on his couch, sweating in the blistering AC-less heat and sipping a Gatorade, I realized that perhaps the night before hadn't gone so terribly. And by "hadn't gone so terribly," I mean exactly the opposite.

In the end, it was nice to have some time to chat about it. Being able to talk things out before you fly a thousand miles is really helpful. I informed him that I am indeed a girl, I do cry sometimes, and that it doesn't get any worse than what he witnessed (drunk tears are so attractive, let me tell you - nothing says "I'm a great girl, I swear" like puffy, red eyes, frizzy lion hair, and rings of mascara).

His response? "You were mad at me for things I hadn't even done [yet]!"

Ah, welcome to life with the opposite sex, my dear.

I had forgotten how much I love that city. I love the intensity, the illusion of calm, the people, the nights. I didn't get to the lake, to the Bean, anywhere, really, but I went everywhere I needed to go. The nights slipped away from me, standing on a rooftop overlooking the city - lights all around, never-ending noise. And the mornings broke beautiful, warm, sensational.
I felt so alive.