Pumped Up Kicks.

Unofficial summer anthem:

Meet Andrew.

We hung out this weekend.

He admired my technology.

He's still kind of new to this world, you see.

We went for a ride in my car.

Honestly, his conversation skills could use some work.

But gosh, he's fun.

And I do love him and his big blue eyes.

Salute.

We try to make a habit of it, Mandy and I.

Chicago, 2011

San Gimignano, 2007

Capri, 2007

Fiesole, 2007

Grrrrrr.

Family Revisited.

I think I feel safest when my family is all in the same place. Same city, same room, same booth at a restaurant - whatever that same place is, I like it. We're all together, talking, laughing, usually eating, and I can relax a little. My brothers are probably telling us some sort of fact or making a smart aleck comment, Mom is making a joke, Dad is taking pictures of his food, and I'm failing miserably in a desperate attempt to make someone in my family laugh.

Never. They never, ever laugh.

Well, never with me. At me, maybe.

And I sit back and watch the chaos.

This weekend my parents came down and stayed with us for Father's Day. We did a little bit of everything and certainly ate a lot of everything. And as usual, on a weekend that was supposed to be about my parents, we were the ones that were spoiled. They arrived with a carload of furniture, various groceries and even expensive toilet paper (10 rolls each!). It's a hot commodity in our family, you see.

I would share more highlights, but they are not fit for women and children to read.

So thank you, God, for my family, quirks and all. We may be highly inappropriate and not make sense to an outsider, but we're a pretty fun package, and I'm happy to be a part of it.

Google.

"how to boil eggs"

Good news is that I think they turned out. I'll find out tomorrow.

This is My Family.

In kindergarten, I had upside-down lips and straw-colored hair. My brothers were in the mafia and my dad was Hitler's brother. Mom just had a bad perm. None of the children inherited their parents eyelashes, and I was the only one with arms.

My, How They Grow.

This is my little cousin Nate. He's 10 years younger than me and over six inches taller. He's a good, American, Cub-loving, God-fearing boy. I'm a big fan.

Uh-oh.

I think I'm becoming a baby person. But look at this precious guy! How could I not?

The number of pictures of babies on my phone is quickly approaching the number of pictures of food.

Some Thoughts.

I wish pants weren't a social norm. The first thing I do when I get home? Take off my pants.

Sitting in the shower is one of life's simple pleasures.

I would pay someone to brush my hair. I would triple their salary if they'd shampoo, condition, and dry it, too.

I saved $10 today by cutting my own hair.

I love church on Sunday mornings.

Hubberts = Home

A long time ago, I took a big plane over a huge ocean to a gigantic city in a tiny country on a small island. That's where I met the Hubbert twins: Cassie and Sally. Actually, that's not true at all, they're triplets, but I really doubted Molly's existence for a long time, so they're still sort of twins in my head.

But I digress.

We spent a blissful summer in London together, eating hummus and baking horrible British-ingredient-based-treats and going to the park for walks and talks in the evening. We celebrated 21st birthdays at the Texas Embassy and were robbed of our unmentionables and played charades in the street and lived in a three-story flat with five other girls and fell in love with swiss tennis players. Wait, that was just me.

We lost our youths that summer. Actually, that's not true at all, either. We were pretty well-behaved save a few nights spent at the local Westbury.

But then, as is the case with all good things, summer was over. London got even colder, and it was time for us to leave. We went our separate ways: they, to the south, me, to the north.

But then, as is sometimes the case when you are very lucky, we were given a second chance.

We graduated college and they lived in Tulsa and I moved to Dallas and they came home to Texas for holidays and I went up to their house for holidays and then Sally moved to Indiana for grad school and I moved to Indiana for grad school and Cassie moved to Dallas to join the real world and our lives flip-flopped just a little and now we get to run into each not as often as we'd like, but at least often enough that we are happy. And that's partly true, because Cassie's far, far away, but I am moving three doors down from Sally.

And the angels rejoiced!

Here we all are at 21, just babies.

And 22ish.

And here we are again, at 23.

And yesterday, they turned 24.

I am thankful to have memories with both girls -namely the holidays spent at their house with the rest of their family - and separate memories with each of them - celebrating my 24th birthday at Medieval Times with Cassie and the Summer of Bad Decisions with Sally. They are both the warmest, kindest, most hospitable people you'll meet. I've been in town for less than a week and I've already eaten more of Sally's food than my own, borrowed her clothes, and spent as many nights at her place as mine.

The Hubberts are home to me. Wherever we are, as long as we're together, I'm happy. Their house in Texas became my home.

Their friends became my friends.

And once I marry their brother, we'll be even more like family than we already are.

But I doubt I'll be able to love them any more than I already do.

Happy birthday, my Texas girls! Here's to many, many more years of baking and eating together.

Summer Love.

Summer
is
where
the
girls
go
barefoot
and their
hearts
are just as free
as their
toes.

Cheap Therapy.

I can't park my car at my apartment right now because, to be perfectly honest, I'm cheap and haven't purchased a parking permit yet. So as I was walking to the Kroger parking lot to pick up my car tonight I had the misfortune of taking the sidewalk towards a stop sign at the same pace as the line of cars on the street next to me; specifically, a white camero blasting Nickelback. This took me back to my freshman year after my boyfriend and I broke up, when I played "Far Away" on repeat until my friend marched into my room and informed me that the pity party would stop "effective immediately" and I had to turn off the song, leave my dorm, and stop eating only hummus. It was beautiful and tragic and therapeutic all at the time.

In other news, my phone autocorrected "leaves" into "lesbos" and I saw this while walking home. Looks like someone could use some Nickelback...

Prodigal Child.

So Sad.

The Script - Nothing - Official Video found on Pop

Kyle.

I have spent my life being called Kyle. By cups at Starbucks, receipts, roll call, awards, checks, personalized memorabilia, best friends, boyfriends, parents...

It's fine, I've accepted it.

Only now, in my new office, there's a real Kyle. This is a problem because I forget that and assume it's a typo or mispronunciation.

So here's me in my younger, patriotic, senior-year-Kyle days with Kurt, "the one that got away."

Someday we'll take that cross-country canoe ride. Just you, me, a harmonica and a bag of powdered chili.

You think I kid, but I've always loved America.

First Taste of Summer.

Baby's back in town.

(Bloomington)

Great first night.

The kind that makes you wish it was eternally 7pm.

Steaks at brothers' house.

Buzzsaw helped me finish. Buzzsaw is an interesting kittykitty. Buzzsaw will be a frequent guest here.

I'd like to brag on my brothers for a moment, if I may. Just look at that exquisite backyard.

Buzzsaw is.

The King twins possess green thumbs and kitchen skills good enough to make any woman jealous.

Beautiful, unobstructed-by-a-screen-window view.

Brother pointing out his various plantings. I will be enjoying the fruits of his labor.

Bugs have really taken over the eggplants this year, dagnabit.

"Summer of Bad Decisions" Devious Act #1: Dairy Queen sundae. Live a little, why don't ya?

Piper, Carson, and Keller on Sustaining the Covenant of Marital Love

Piper, Carson, and Keller on Sustaining the Covenant of Marital Love

Chicago.

Perfect. 75 and sunny. Amanda and Luca hosted and provided vino, vino and more vino, bread, cheese, pasta and espresso at midnight and my people, my family, came - Mandy, Ashley and Jamie - and Jessie, John and Lizzie were there in spirit. We laughed and told stories and played mean, terrible games of "Would You Rather." Nothing's changed, and these people keep my dreams big, maybe bigger than they should be. So I love them for that.

And then. AND THEN.

Cubs.

It's blurry, and you can't see how much I spent on my ticket. So I'll have to let you know that it was very expensive. Very, very pricey and extravagant. I used almost all of a $20 bill to buy it.

I'm so glad Daddy didn't make us mow our giant backyard into a personal Wrigley Field growing up. Those lines.

And then. Giordano's with Matty. I have waited patiently for this day. And I had to wait even more patiently for them to deliver, an hour and a half after ordering. These puppies take almost an hour to cook.

The autopsy shot.

And then. For simplicity's sake, let's just say Matt "sprained both ankles." But he was a trooper and went to see THE SCRIPT with me. And here's the deal - we got $3 parking and VIP seats because he was a gimp. Matt's gonna take his sprained butt to every future event with me. He's my good luck charm and puts up with me when he absolutely should not. I must be the worst person in the world to accompany to a concert - it's such a dramatic experience because I spend half of the time explaining how the song "speaks to me" and the other half singing at the top of my lungs, eyes shut. So thank you, Matty, wherever you are (hopefully in bed, legs elevated, heavily medicated).

The Script. There really are no words, but I will try: They were just splendid. Danny O'Donoghue's pants are always on the verge of falling off, but never do, and his voice sounds like it would feel good if it were to rub up against you.

Matt humored me and we finished off the night with Frosties and french fries from Wendy's, driving through Chicago with the windows down, blasting "Party Rock Anthem." Heading home tomorrow, and I'll be sorry to say goodbye. Luckily, I'll get to see Taylor on the way, and I love Taylor, maybe even more than Matt (you'll never know), so it works out nicely.