My London Coat Hanger

Greetings from the other side! Here I am in the Pearl of Africa. I finally got an internet stick today so I decided its officially time to start getting down to buisness. You know, research, classes, reading, BLOGGING. You can see where my priorities are. But before I jump into Uganda I think I need to devote a post to my 12 hours in London. Because it was pretty magical. And it came first chronologically.

Alright. So on Wednesday before I left, my mom and I ran a bunch of errands and honestly I think we were both a bit stressed out. I was leaving my family for a few months which isn't abnormal because I go to school in Utah. But there is something magical about summers in St. Louis with my nephews. So it was sad to leave that portion of my summer behind.

The flight to Chicago was pretty uneventful. In fact, I literally can't remember it. Which is slightly incredible. Once I got off the plane in Chicago, I had to switch terminals. This is the first time I've ever had to do that in O'Hare. So I took the airport tram to the other terminal and just walking into that terminal already felt like being in a foreign country. There was a lot of BO in the line for security which was unorganized and crowded. There were many languages all around me. There was a middle eastern family crying then laughing and then crying as they said goodbye to a young man. It was really sweet. But with all the jostling, I only got through security with enough time to buy a water and a snack and then I was boarding the flight to London.

This was a good flight. I stepped on, started hearing the English accents and had this moment of !!!. The more I heard the more I was like am I sure I don't just want to stay here? I love England. I know England. It's familiar! Oh! But best of all, I was in the row at the front of my section of the cabin so there was a wall instead of seats in front of me ie lots of leg room and personal tvs that pull up rather than attach the seat in front.

I have this theory that the people you sit next to on international flights never really leave you. It's a weirdly intimate experience to travel halfway around the world two millimeters away from a perfect stranger trying to sleep without touching them. I remember my cute young middle eastern guy on my trip to France. I remember the black hoddie band man last year. Funny...maybe its only people on outgoing flights. Anyway, the ladies sitting next to me were middle aged sisters. At first I was intimidated by them but eventually we started talking. I found out that they grew up in London and had been in the Midwest with two girlfriends for the week to do a roller coaster tour. How unique! I also found out that one of them works for a children's charity in London. What are the odds that I would be sitting right next to someone doing something so similar to my dream?

They asked about what I would do during my layover. I told them I wasn't sure. Which is weird because I actually had a very specific plan laid out: Tower of London, Oxford street, pick up the books I want, back to airport. But I think I was afraid they might make fun of my Tower of London plan. So, as actual Londoners, I asked for their opinion. It was the middle of the night, high up in the sky, the women next to me had just finished their third cup of wine (I feel like this would only be complimentary on a European flight) and the barriers came down between us. Since I couldn't follow all of the lady's instructions I had her write them down on my tube map I had printed off the internet. This is the result:

Pretty awesome right! They basically just drew up this treasure hunt for me. Along with more general explanations, here is what it said:

"Heathrow=change@ Holburn onto Central Line going east to St Pauls. Get off & see cathedral then follow signs for Millennium bridge = cross river on bridge to Tate Modern = have a look = head towards Blackfriars walk along South bank/ see Hayward Gallery from outside / can go inside Royal Festival Hall for free / underbelly space is free/ask at festival hall for free programme  of June events you can pick up from festival hall places to eat and drink. keep walking along the river (if you want) towards parliament* Once at Parliament walk up towards Trafalgar Square, past 10 Downing Street/changing of the guard/Trafalgar Sq then National Gallery/also National Portrait gallery?Leicester Sq premiers & a little garden then back."

WHEW! She and her sister emphasized that I wouldn't be able to do it all. The one writing turned to me saying, see a plan is like a coat hanger. It's just a structure to try things on and take things off of. Nothing permanent. And then she drew a picture of a little hanger, added squiggles for wire and wrote "your London coat hanger" next to it.

Brilliant.

Well when two middle aged British amusement park tourists draw you a map with step by step instructions at 2 in the morning, I'm pretty sure the only sane response is to follow it! So Tower of London got chucked off the list and follow it I did!

There were logistics like putting money on my oyster card for the London underground and then of course the hour long ride into the city. There were minor setbacks like insistent  rain and my inability to find an umbrella- I ended up buying a cheap one. There was the fact that I found myself sitting in a little window alcove of St Pauls popping my malaria pills with my hair frizzing out around me and my thick glasses sliding down my nose looking like a hobo. There was the moment when a group of girls blatantly laughed at me as my umbrella flew inside out on the Millennium Bridge whilst I tried to take a picture. There was the rain giving my tired feet blisters as I walked for hours and there was, oh yes, the fact that technically it was the middle of the night for my inner clock.

But I followed that plan. It was just like a treasure hunt and my Londoners didn't let me down. I got pulled into a Free Palestine Rally (not literally, I just talked to a hipster dude giving out leaflets), I walked around the  Tate Modern and saw some pretty cool Rothko-esque work. I walked southward along the Thames running into some over-sized couches made out of grass whose purpose weren't entirely clear. I walked past the aquarium, past the London eye and finally, FINALLY (my feet were getting tired) I was at Parliament. Whenever I see parliament I just can't help but grin. I dare you to look at that building and not at least smile. You're in London, man! You're alone, you're on your way to Africa, for the very first time in your life you are navigating a subway system by yourself (successfully, I might add!) and it is THE coolest feeling in the world. Who cares that I looked like a train wreck. I felt alive.

Well, I walked up to Parliament and stood at the little convience store across the street, distinctly remembering the time wmy buddies and I stopped there at that same shop for quick food just last summer. I had a choice to make. More walking to see Downing Street etc. or off to Oxford Street which was part of my original plan. Well, embracing the image of the coat hanger I decided that it was time to try my coat on. So I headed down to the underground and caught the train to Oxford Street. Oxford Street was really cool and I would totally have drank it up if I had a friend, wasn't tired, didn't have a huge backpack and wasn't dripping rain. Window shopping and hipster hunting was fun though. Eventually I started asking people for the nearest bookstore. This lead to a series of boomerangs for me. I crossed Charring Cross Road and the "We Will Rock You" theater like 6 times. Too far one way and then the other, I kept asking for directions from all the wrong people.

Finally I aproached some men handing out free yogourt as a promotion. Turning the yougourt down (I already had two), I asked if they knew where the nearest book store was. Book store? They looked at me with good natures bemusement.

"We're here handing out free yogourt, do you think any of us has ever read a book in his life?"

said one of the men. It totally made my day. Eventually one of the guys sorted me out with very reliable directions and after a bit of finagling around the construction, I found it! My book store. To explain a little bit, I really wanted to buy the conclusion books to this series that only came out in the UK. I started it last summer and I now I'm going to finish it gosh dang it. Without paying for shipping fees. As I was walking I started seeing signs with the word SoHo on them.

Now, I don't actually know what SoHo is, but it seems like it would be a magical place full of fashion and hipsters and apartments that are much too expensive. So as I was checking out my three books I abruptly asked the store clerk "am I in SoHo right now?" He laughed and just said that I was teetering on it. If I went to Greek Street I'd be in the thick of things. Was that a challenge?

I left the store, found my way to Greek Street, only a few minutes away, took a few pictures and considered one more thing checked off my bucket list. And then it really was time to go home. Excuse me? Did I say home? I meant the airport. My new best friend. So, back on the tube, switch lines, take it for an hour into Heathrow. Go through security, blah blah blah.

it seems like every time I'm in London there is a protest for Palestine

this is exactly the kind of man I would expect to see walking out of those gold adorned gates

and then this one not 3 minutes later! So quintessentially British. And yes, I people  stalk.
Get used to it.

Millennium Bridge! Very slippery! Great view of Tower Bridgde...

and the hipster London boy fashion stalking begins...

this image comforts me. I would like to swim in it.

YAYAH!! 3 cheers for the man purse!

and this is the view behind manpurse man. This is the Tate Modern museum. I mean, my next penthouse.

Ok, I don't care what you fools say, this is magical. All the black lines are zippers and its actual fabric! 

this actually solves a major mystery of one of my fb friend's profile pics awhile ago.
A bit awkward asking a stranger to take this picture.

London Eye! It had quite the line

and again with the 'random stranger please take a picture of me looking like a hijacked water monkey  in front of this famous backdrop!'

obligatory chaco picture.
I'm a bit disappointed. These shoes gave me killer blisters.
Granted I was walking for 5 hours in the rain.

I really can't even express how pleased I am for finally understanding the  underground.
Something just irrevocably clicked in my mind.
 Essential Life Skill  = conquered!

a bunch of British flags above "American Apparel" on Oxford Street
It don't get much better than that in my book.

oh so lost

Hipster man me like your fashion!

So to the Ho!

Sherlock season 1 finale anybody? Eh eh? I'm happy to join a drug syndicate with you

So, yeah  that was London. It was absolutely incredible. And its the transience that made it so unique. Imagine just stopping somewhere for a few hours, a world capital on the other side of the ocean, walking among the people, riding their transportation, thinking your own thoughts, laughing and smiling to yourself at bizarre times; imagine the quiet success of a most unusual tourist.

It's Time for Africa!

Ready or not, here I come!

I'm pretty much packed, I've said goodbye to my friends and the members of my family who are at work already. I ate a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast.

I am as ready as I will ever be.

People keep asking if I am nervous: the answer is absolutely 100% YES. So nervous. The other day I couldn't fall asleep, I was so anxious. Alex keeps repeating "Requiescat in pace" when he sees me, which apparently means "rest in peace" in latin. On the other hand though, I still can't really believe its happening. It still seems so far away. And in a way it is. I'm not actually getting there until Friday morning. Here's my itinerary:
5:40 pm St. Louis - Chicago O'Hare
8ish Chicago - London Heathrow
10 hour layover in London -I plan on hitting the town for a few hours. You know, Tower of London, Oxford street...why not?
London - Entebbe ie UGANDA!!!

When I get to Uganda, Peter the program manager for my trip will be there to pick me up. Or, at least that's the plan. Then from what I gather, it is an hour long drive to Kampala, the city which I will call home for two months.

TWO MONTHS! In a way that sounds like a really long time and in a way it doesn't. I keep repeating my Dad's advice he gave to me last year when I was so nervous to leave for Cambridge. I asked him, what if I don't like it, what if I don't make any friends, what if I'm homesick? To which he responded, well then you will come home in 2 months. It's a very good point. And look how well Cambridge turned out!

To conclude, I would be very remiss if I didn't thank my wonderful parents for this trip. I know that I am incredibly spoiled, that I don't deserve half of what they have given me and that I am one of the luckiest girls in the world. I'm anxious to make the most of my time in Uganda so that their gift really is a valuable investment for my future. This research will be such a good stepping stool for graduate school, if I can do a decent job with it!

Alright, that's it. Ta! Love, peace, joy! Whatever it is that hippie travel people say to one another!

Nature, Hope, and POESY

I've been reading some romantic poetry lately. I've been doing this for 3 main reasons:

1. Awhile ago when we were at Barnes and Noble, my good friend Emily bought some poetry to read in Africa. This seemed like a really romantic image to me, and obviously, I want to be as cool as her.

2. I have recommitted myself to the honors program which requires me to read some poems.

3. My Cambridge buddies had a "Poetry Jam in Our Jammies" party where everyone read their favorite poems while wearing pajamas and eating bread with jam and I realized that it was a.) cool to be well-versed and b.) that I was the least cool

So, I went to the library a few weeks ago and got an anthology of Romantic poetry. Now, clearly from the above statements you can see that I am a total poser. BUT I am trying to instill within myself a sense of appreciation for poetry. I decided to start with the romantics. For one thing, it's my favorite movement in painting

and I figured that if the poems were anything like this, they would be pretty awesome

Well, I have to say that I'm kind of falling in love. Here are a few of my favorites:

Youth and Age
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Verse, a Breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where HOPE clung feeding, like a bee--
Both were mine ! Life went a-maying
With NATURE, HOPE, and POESY,
When I was young !

When I was young ?--Ah, woful WHEN !
Ah ! for the Change 'twixt Now and Then !
This breathing House not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er æry Cliffs and glittering Sands,
How lightly then it flashed along :--
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of Sail or Oar,
That fear no spite of Wind or Tide !
Nought cared this Body for wind or weather
When YOUTH and I lived in't together.

FLOWERS are lovely ; LOVE is flower-like ;
FRIENDSHIP is a sheltering tree ;
O ! the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and LIBERTY,
Ere I was old !

Ere I was old ? Ah woful ERE,
Which tells me, YOUTH'S no longer here !
O YOUTH ! for years so many and sweet,
'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit--
It cannot be that Thou art gone !
Thy Vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd :--
And thou wert aye a Masker bold !
What strange Disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou art gone ?
I see these Locks in silvery slips,
This drooping Gait, this altered Size :
But SPRINGTIDE blossoms on thy Lips,
And Tears take sunshine from thine eyes !
Life is but Thought : so think I will
That YOUTH and I are House-mates still.

Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve !
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
When we are old :

That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist ;
Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.

My favorite line is "Life is but Thought: so think I will that YOUTH and I are House-mates still." I'm not old yet, but this makes me want to appreciate youth more.

Another great one, again by Coleridge is "What is Life?"

Resembles Life what once was held of Light,
Too ample in itself for human sight ?
An absolute Self--an element ungrounded--
All, that we see, all colours of all shade
By encroach of darkness made ?--
Is very life by consciousness unbounded ?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death ? 

I like the idea that life is made meaningful by death, just as color is made meaningful by darkness. We can't understand even a fraction of eternity. The first two lines are my favorite.

Finally, this one really caught me:

Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle;--
Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven,
If it disdained it's brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Jenny C'est Quoi?

I babysat my nephews tonight while my sister and her husband took my parents out to the Opera. We Hursts are a cultured breed. Driving home, I regaled my parents with the ridiculous exploits of their adorable grandsons. Milo has allegedly been described by his supervisors as "the king of the nursery." My mom chooses to interpret this as an exhibition of pro-social, friendly behavior. Milo's mom fears that her son may be the class tyrant. Alas, we literate folk are too close to death to ever truly understand these playground politics. Is it that Milo is self-possessed? Effortlessly cool? At any rate, my parents and I agreed that he had a certain "je ne sais quoi" which must set him apart.

"I want to have je ne sais quoi" I remarked from the back seat, not a little jealous.

"Jenny sais quoi" offered my Dad. Apparently that's what I am. Jenny sais quoi.

I like it.

For all you non-french speaking people (although you should know this anyway because it is a figure of speech) "je ne sais quoi" is what you use to describe something that is indescribable. I tend to imagine it being said by a middle aged lady swirling a champagne bottle in her right hand. I want to be indescribable. To break it up though and translate it into my dad's version it is literally "Jenny know what." But when he said it out loud my mind immediately interpreted it as "Jenny c'est quoi" which (as far as I can tell)  is pronounced exactly the same but means "Jenny is what".

Well seeing as I like to view myself as that adorably quirky girl with strange habits and a penchant for using hair gel as contact solution, I kind of like this pithy little phrase.

Jenny is...what? It's kind of my life's mission to find out. And if you ever see me and say to yourself 'what the bucket is that girl doing'? let me know if you figure it out. Because I sure haven't yet.

And with that in mind, I would like to offer a case in point of my ....adorable quirkiness? On my way home from Alabama I started getting freaked out about everything that had to be done before I left for Uganda. It's like preparing for the apocalypse. All these aspirations that I would never do in a million years if I was at home suddenly have a deadline to them. When I'm stressed I like to make to- do lists because they somehow make everything more manageable.  Here is the result. Keep in mind these are preparations to go to the poorest country I have ever visited on the other side of the world for two months

1. learn to braid hair
2. buy chacos
3. load up the kindle
4. learn camera
5. steal Emily and Matt's music
6. figure out $ in Africa
7. babysit for E+M -make $!
8. skirts and long pants
9. really effective bug spray and sunscreen
10. but new contacts
11. start wearing retainer
12 find glasses!
13. figure out what to do in London
14. back up files on computer
15. fix computer
16. start washing face
17 jogging
18. yoga
19. movies for Africa
20. earbuds
21. buy the song Waka Waka
22. cut hair

Simple Fictions

Dear reader,

You may or may not be aware that I, Jenny, tend to cultivate unhealthy relationships with characters in books. This, I believe stems from my brain's inability to sort out reality and fiction. Because sometimes fiction feels more real! And, of course, it is very often more interesting. This kind of quality was cultivated and encouraged when I was a child. They called it 'imagination' and all the conventional people were doing it. Or they thought they were. I don't think that they grew up and literally prayed for Harry, Ron and Hermione to make it out alive before coming to their senses and realizing that it was just a book. I don't think they relived Sirius's death scene over and over again. They didn't understand Harry the way I did.

Sound like a psychotic fan girl? Here's the thing. I am and I ain't. I know its a bit egotistical to say this, like my love is more real than theirs! More delusional! More unhealthy! but...I really think it is. I'm not into the paraphernalia of a lot of books or the theme parks (okay yes clearly we are still focusing on Harry Potter but I'll leave that in a minute, I promise). I literally feel this deep connection like you would with a close friend. I was in this stupor when I finished the 7th HP book. I literally just felt this hole in my life: it was over. I started to question everything. My existence. The point of my life. How I could be real when Harry wasn't? The world I had just stepped out of seemed so genuine as well. The only way I can explain it is to draw from the movie Inception. When they come out of the dream, they question reality. They can't be sure what is real and what is a dream. Because in some cases they are equally meaningful.

Key word: some. There are some books that are total crap and we're not gonna talk about them.

But back to the point: there is something wrong (or right!) with me which causes me to be ....consumed by fiction.  This explains my actions over the past few weeks. When I got home from school I just read. And READ!!! Fiction! Oh, so much fiction! It was beautiful! It was the kind of thing I never do anymore as an English turned IR major. It was gloriously irresponsible. Like the cookie monster gorging on treats I just compulsively kept reading.

Well okay. All of this buildup (which I didn't actually expect to write but ended up writing anyway so that maybe I could rationalize my coming statement a little bit) comes down to this:

I
LOVE
THE
HUNGER
GAMES



There. I said it. I LOVE it. Like, unhealthily so. The first time I read it a few summers ago, I had my doubts. I knew a lot of Mormons liked it which made me approach it with caution. But I read the first one and was absolutely hooked. So then I read the second one. This was in a period of between 24-48 hours. I'm not a super fast reader but you can bet that I was flipping through those pages almost that whole time. Food, sleep, everything goes on hold when there's a good book around. So, I finished the second book, but the third one wasn't out yet. This was upsetting. I had entered the world of Panem and inirita would not let me back out. I felt this deep connection. So...I read them again! I remember literally putting book two down, thinking about it and then (at the latest the next day) deciding to pick up number one again and re-read them both. All this in one approximately 5 day period.

Then the 3rd book came out and it was like....kind of exhausting. So much bad happens! I liked it, with reservations, put it away with fond disappointment and kind of got on with my life.

Then the movie came out. And this really is pretty fan girl-ish here because I'm supposed to be a book snob  but...I really loved the movie too. So I thought to myself why? Why do I love this movie of innocent children forced to kill each other? Why can't I get it out of my head? Out of my gut?

Well, obviously the author is trying to make a point with her subject matter.

I just wasn't sure exactly what it was. But the story-it resonates with a lot of people. Which means there most be truth in it. I mean, there is the kind of simple yet still disturbing message that we readers are, in fact, the capital. We love reading a book about children dying just like they love watching it. What does that reveal about us?

Well, as you may have already picked up on, I'm going to wax philosophical here. There is a quote I absolutely love which states:
 
 "The details of reality can disguise essential truths that are best revealed through simple fictions."

This quote came from (of all places) page 37 of my econ text book sophomore year. See? I told you all the conventional people were doing it! It has now become one of my mantras as an aspiring writer. The reason fiction is so powerful is because, whether overtly or not, it can be a conduit of truth. Truth we can't see in our own complex lives which we lead with oh so much internal bias.

Now, I'm not sure what exactly the truth of the Hunger Games is. But I am convinced that it is this truth nipping at everyone which is the source (however deep) of the superstardum of the series. I would guess that there isn't one meaning for everyone. Many people argue that there is in fact no meaning--I was very annoyed a few months ago when a boy in my lab scoffed at the writing saying 'it's not Shakespeare' to which I wanted to reply, 'No! Of course it isn't! You wouldn't read it if it was!' Sometimes mass appeal is a form of genius. There is definitely a meaning. It's just multifaceted and obscured by a lot of fun action which is why I love analyzing it so much.

So earlier this summer I read the trilogy again with slightly newer eyes. I was very moved by it (again), very thought provoked and yet still unsure what exactly the author was trying to critique about man and the modern society. It wouldn't be a good book if it was too easy to moralize. However, I did get to one section from the end of Mockingjay which I can only describe as the thesis of the entire series. It comes as Katniss is being dropped back off in district 12: 

                 “Are you preparing for another war, Plutrarch?” I ask.

                 “Oh, not now.  Now we’re in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated,” he says. “But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. Although who knows? Maybe this will be it, Katniss.”

                “What?” I ask.

                “The time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race. Think about that.” And then he asks me if I’d like to perform on a new singing program he’s launching in a few weeks. Something upbeat would be good. He’ll send the crew to my house.  (pg. 379)

Well there you go. I read this passage and it kind of hit me why I love the series. The IR student within me who studies wars and the UN and peacekeeping and what not is fascinated and vindicated by the plot line. The English major in me loves the sharp juxtaposition between the prospect of human's constant need for war and for entertainment. Or both as one? And then another reason it appealed to me, sort of hit me on the head.

I'm going to Uganda to study child soldiers. Children in war. Well, that's exactly what the Hunger Games is. I sudden't didn't feel so guilty about shirking my research. 

The more I thought about it the more I liked this interpretation. The author isn't really preaching. She's not saying exactly what's right and what's wrong- Katniss votes to continue the Hunger Games for goodness sake! What she's doing is pointing out the complex human condition in a way that made people want to listen. 

And, I admire her writing. The last book? She was not trying to please anyone with it. I wasn't pleased at first. It was tough and horrible and sad and a lot of people died and it wasn't particularly satisfying. But you know what?  Even though it took place in the future where people wear funny clothes and use children as gladiator's and have crazy mutation animal weapons: it's realistic.

Real life doesn't exactly have a plot arch. Real life doesn't worry about killing off your favorite character. Real life doesn't balance the amount of violence-there isn't a quota. Real life doesn't erase pain just because the enemy is vanquished. Indeed, is the enemy vanquished at the end of Mockingjay? Its ambiguously implied that a new one will just take its place. That's the nature of the world.

 I don't need to go out and kill anyone or start a revolution. But I need to think about these issues. We all do. And anyone, author, teacher, actress, whoever, who can reach out to so many people and get a dialogue going gets credit in my book.

BAMA

Well, I am back from our vacation in Gulf Shores Alabama! It was great. We left on a Saturday and pretty much just drove all day. We stopped for BBQ in Memphis where we met up with Emily Matt and the boys for lunch. That was a fun break and it was cool to see a little bit of Memphis. We got to the beach house we were renting late that night and it was AMAZING! It was huge! And it had an elevator and a big sandbox which the boys loved and a garage full of beach toys and a huge bathtub! All 11 of us fit comfortably.

Eliana liked climbing the stairs

On Sunday Laura, Dustin and Eliana flew in and then a little later in the day Alex did too. It was the first time I've been with my entire family for a year so that was of course the best part of the entire vacation. Mostly we just hung out. We went to the beach a lot, we visited this place called alligator ally where I got to hold a baby alligator and feed the big alligators! We also went go-carting on this multistory track, and played pirate minigolf. The absolute coolest thing though, was that we rented a kayak for the week and I went kayaking in the ocean a few times. 

No nonsense!

We even flew kites on the beach!

...with marginal success

At first Milo was really afraid of the water, but he got over it by the end of the week

On Friday, Laura's last day, the two of us decided to kayak out into the gulf and we were just sitting there when we STARTED SEEING DOLPHINS! They were so close! There was a mom and baby that came about 10 feet away from our kayak. It was almost a little bit freaky to know that they were wild and there was nothing in between them and us in the open water. But really cool! There was a whole pod near us too which we followed and we saw their dorsal fins surfacing or heard them exhaling through their blowholes. Another one came really close and surfaced about 7 feet directly ahead of us. Laura (the zookeeper) was beside herself with excitement. She dipped her feet into the water and started splashing which she admitted was a bad idea because it would attract sharks. Needless to say, I discouraged her from actually jumping in to swim. I was feeling a little vulnerable as it was. So eventually we headed back in--only to realize that we had drifted a lot further than we had expected. Man, kayaking is hard work, especially against the ocean current! We capsized trying to get back into the lagoon but that wasn't a big deal cause the water was only 3 feet deep there. But it was a wonderful dolphin adventure! It was also great to spend some time alone with Laura since we hardly ever get to see each other. 

Later that day, we were at the beach and we saw a guy who was swept out by the current get rescued by the fire department. That was another unique sight. The first guy on the scene was super young and fit and ran into the waves in slow motion like he was a character on Baywatch. The next guy to run in was this huge older man with folds of fat protruding from his swim trunks. He actually got to the drowning man first. But not before Matt did. Matt found him and offered him his bogey board to hold onto. Which really freaked Emily out because, actually, Matt can't really swim. There were some other good Samaritans who had been swimming towards him from down the beach who helped too. So see? Man is good. And the dude survived, mostly just embarrassed by all the attention. 

Another notable thing was that my Mom planned all these cute activities for the kids. One of which was 'fishing.' She and my Dad took one of the fishing poles found in the toy shed, rigged it up so you could clip things too it and then we all 'went fishing' from the third floor deck. My mom, who was on the second floor deck would attach little prizes to the pole for the kids to real in. They got Swedish Fish and bubbles and toys. It was really cute! I even got a little something too.

Oh, and lets not forget stargazing through my Dad's super awesome telescope!

they weren't prepared for the flash

our little refugee, straight from his first year of law school!

On our way back from Gulf Shores we decided to stop in New Orleans. I've wanted to see it for awhile. I think my Dad's main reason was to cross off state 49 from his states visited list. Once he hits North Dakota (which he claims is a myth) he will have been to all 50! But yeah. We spent a few hours walking around the French Quarter. It was ...eclectic. Cool, but, seeing as how I don't drink, I will probably never go back.

We ate some authentic New Orleans Cuisine

It looked like this

party all the time

Doesn't this bike remind you of rootbeer?

One of these almost hit our car while we were driving...it was pretty funny

me and my papa outside St. Louis Cathedral 

two cool cats

voodoo man

some bums. They were not very talented

trolley by the river -right by where a man offered to sell my parents crack!

So that was New Orleans! We left in the evening, drove until we reached Jackson Mississippi and stayed there for the night at a very questionable Super 8. Poor Emily and Matt had to deal with their children all the way home. I have some experience driving with them. Here is an example of them in a cute moment, ie momentarily distracted from their angst at sitting in the same place for hours

Well, that was family vacation! Now I am home and getting things ready for my big trip in just over 2 weeks. Crazy! But more on that later...

Notes to Self

So, I have a lot of reasonably interesting things to say but not enough time to write them right now. However a friend was bugging me about not updating my blog. I have come up with a solution to this problem:  I am going to create a running miniseries which I call "Notes to Self". These will happen periodically, when appropriate, between long blogposts, whenever. They are reminders of the stupid things I have done. And yes. Every single note to self will reflect a thing that actually happened. To kick off, I will start with 3 from the last 48 hours.


Note to self: Driving a go cart in a dress is not very ladylike. Only engage in such activity when trying to cheer your sisters up.


Note to self: Hair gel is not a good substitute for contact solution. But don't worry...poison control is a very valuable resource should the occasion recur. 


Note to self: Throwing the ball at the guy running to tackle you is not an acceptable play in football

That's all folks. Next time I do something totally idiotic, don't worry. You will be the first to know