June 7, 2011
June 6, 2011
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?
June 2, 2011
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.
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