12 on the 12th: May

So I am a little late. Whatev. 

one: My new favorite morning treat. Even better? I bought myself a Magic Bullet. Now I can take my smoothie with me to work right in the blender. Saweet.

two: Morning smoothie plus a little "me time". Every year after finals I have a tradition of reading all of the Harry Potter books. Yep, I admit it. I am a nerd.

three: How can you read the books without watching the movies too?

four: So I admit, I didn't take this picture in hopes of debuting it on my 12 on the 12th. I actually bought a new skirt so I took a picture to send to Jake at work for his approval. And then I realized I only took 11 pictures to be on my 12 on the 12th. So it made the cut.

five: Driving home.

six: Got a call from my favorite high school friend on the way to Malta. Love her!

seven: And the reason for my visit home. I made a quick stop at an old friends wedding reception. She looked beautiful!

eight: I made my Mother promise we could eat at Taco B if we went to the reception. This is one of the top things I miss about living in Malta.

nine: A little "Sister and Me" time.

ten: Almost home!

eleven: Ah, home sweet home.

twelve: This is why I need to have a kid! I said "Zayne take off my shoes for me." And guess what? HE DID!

The One Where We Graduate...

You know, since I have started college I have had my fair share of majors. Freshman year, I walked on campus as a Social Work major. Ha, that lasted about a year. I didn't even take any classes related to the field. Not one. But hey, I did get a great scholarship for it.  I then treaded the water of a General Education major. You know, the "cop-out" choice for those people who have no interests whatsoever. Then I got the bright idea that I was destined to be a teacher. And I stuck with it. For three long years. I stuck with my passion of English and focused on Heath Ed as my minor. [Sometimes I wonder...Health Ed? I have absolutely no interest in it. Silly past me.]

Then one day after teaching a short English lesson to a bunch of high school kids who really cared less about what I had to say, I had an epiphany. An epiphany that started with "What the heck" and ended with "am I doing?" I realized I had no interest in spending the rest of my life in school. So, I quit. Six credits to go and I gave up on Education. Phew. Dodged a bullet with that one.

But then I realized I had been in school for four and a half years and didn't have a major. Yikes. So, I counted up the credits I had acquired while in school and decided Literary English was the way to go. 

And now I am done. 

What to know what my favorite part of being done is? When people ask what I graduated with. Oh man, talk about a crack up.  "So Kate, what did you spend the last five years in school getting a degree in?" My answer, "I now have a bachelors degree of Literary English in my back pocket!" Them, "Literary English? What the heck are you going to do with that?" My answer, "Who the heck cares! I am a college graduate!"

Truth is guys, I can't do a whole lot with my silly degree. But hey, it's a degree. That is a whole lot more than a lot of people these days can say. So yah, I am proud of my Literary English degree. I am even prouder to shout from the rooftops: 

I AM A COLLEGE GRAD!

To make the day even better, my big brother Alan and I graduated on the same day.

it's [just me] playing catch up...

You know when you have so much to say that you just don't have a place to start? Yah, me too. So instead of taking the extra time searching my mind to come up with some cleverly witty introduction to the madness, I am just going to jump right in. Prepare yourselves for quite a few RANDOM blog posts.

The One with the Spanish Gift Giver..

Remember my creepy Spanish friend Ben and Jerry? Oh goodness, I could have a whole blog [not just a post, mind you. A. Whole. Blog.] dedicated to him. You know those people who just love to hear themselves talk? Ben and Jerry. You know those people who make themselves feel more intelligent by using big words even when they make absolutely no sense? Ben and Jerry. Every time he opened his mouth, I mentally pictured a Friends episode I have seen a million times. I even caught myself giggling right out loud a few times at the image. Don't know what I am talking about? Not to worry, I have linked a lovely clip for your viewing pleasure.

Ah, "Baby Kangaroo Tribbiani". Gets me every time. Anyways, throughout the semester Ben and Jerry became one of those students where every time he raised his hand, the whole class groaned. I groaned. The boy sitting next to me groaned. Gosh, even the professor groaned. Needless to say, I tried to keep my distance. His mohawk [dyed yellow, but still showcasing his grey hair], his cut-off shirt that no longer attached at the bottom so it was worn like an awkward bib, his chewing tobacco noticeably placed in his bottom lip DURING class, and his extremely creepy winks helped in my "keeping of distance" solution.

So I missed a few classes in a row once. Like two weeks. No big deal. Anyways, the day I came back, Ben and Jerry moved from his normal desk and sat right behind me. I tried to ignore the move like any good "gosh, this guy creeps me out" girl would do but, alas, he tapped me on the shoulder. I very hesitantly turned around. Mind you, I don't remember the exact words he used, but believe me, it made absolutely no sense. Sorta like this, "Katie, your absenteeism in Spanish tutorial has not gone undetected. I solitarily have missed your facade within the architectural confines of this here learning facility. As a perfunctory symbol of my feelings regarding your nonappearance, please consent to the reception of this efflorescence."[Ha, you better believe I used a "Thee-saurus" for that bad boy]. And then he pulled a little flower out of his backpack.

At this point, I am sure I was about as red as the flower. It didn't help that Mr. Ben and Jerry was talking so loud that the WHOLE class had turned to watch the conversation. Even the professor. I almost died. I almost died again when one of the guys sitting next to me leaned to Ben and Jerry and said, "Dude, how can you not notice the big ring on her finger?"

Needless to say, the entire Spanish class had a good laugh at my expense. 

PhotoBooth

What happens when you combine a day of graduation celebrations, good food, family, and Photo Booth? A hilarious little Zayne and a close-to-heart-attack-from-laughing "Pa".

it's [just me] and her titles...

When I was little I had bright red hair. Bright red. And I had a lovely little cowlick right smack dab on my bang line. Red hair and a bang cowlick? Cute, I tell you. Cute indeed [sarcasm intended]. To make matter worse, I had three older sisters who had mastered the skills of a curling iron and a bottle of hairspray. So of course I had to keep up.

I would try to curl my hair everyday for school. Emphasis on "try". You see, the hot rod inches from my skin scared the crap out of me. I could curl the sides of my hair just fine because I could see what I was doing. But the hot rod and little arms didn't mix for the back of my hair. This equated to the left and right sides of my hair being curled and the back...well let's just say it looked pretty stupid.

That is, until Kimmy took pity on me. I remember the fist day she curled my hair in a long time. I got on the bus and the bus driver said, "Wow, all of your hair is curled! You should do it more often!" From then on, I always begged and pleaded with Kim to curl my hair. I am sure it annoyed the crap out of her, but she did it anyways. So I appointed her with the title of my lifelong hairdresser.

To be honest, I appointed her with a lot more titles than just "hairdresser" throughout the years. She's been my chauffeur. She's been my cook. She's been my maid. She's been my roommate. My TV-viewing partner. My second mom. My wedding planner. My counselor. My college planner. My secretary. My vacation coordinator. My financial backer. My secret keeper. My shopping partner. My role model.

Best of all? She's been my sister.

Happy Birthday Kimmy. Thanks for...you know...everything.  

it's [just me] and my big brother...

Today I had an Oral Final for my Spanish class. After several "Yo soy amable pero un poco terca" and "No me gusta cocinar" the professor asked me to tell her about my family. I responded, "Yo tengo cuatro hermanas y un hermano." My professor's eyes showed her surprise and she replied, "¡Ah, pobre chico!"

Poor boy? Uh, yah right. That "poor boy" has the best "cuatro hermanas" anyone could ever ask for. And I am sure he would say the same. I think. No, I am sure of it. Pretty sure anyway. Definitely. 

***

When we were little, we had a LONG lane that we would ride our bikes down to catch the bus to school. One day, after the bus dropped us off, my big brother and I jumped on our bikes and decided to race home. I looked over at Alan to see how much faster my little legs had to peddle. My eyes somehow steered my bike...straight into the barbed-wire fence. [Really, I still have quite a substantial scar on my hand to prove it.] Let me tell you, I cried. I cried and screamed and thought for sure I was dying. 

Alan jumped off his bike and ran over to my oh-my-gosh-I-am-sure-I-just-died little body. He didn't hesitate. He didn't get disgusted by the gushing blood [Now that I think about it, it probably wasn't gushing. But to my seven-year-old self, it definitely was]. He didn't point, laugh, and run back to his bike to win the race. Instead, he picked me up and RAN all the way home. Ran. The whole lane. And let me tell yah, it was a long lane to run, especially for a nine-year-old holding his screaming seven-year-old little sister. 

Even at nine-years-old, my big brother took care of me. 

Happy Birthday, Al. Thanks for always taking care of me. 

Spring Sunday...

pink skies // flowers picked and gifted // volleyball in a park by the river // walking across bridges 

oh, the perfect spring sunday.