Farewell to the 00s

Is this title correct?  I'm not sure.  What did people say during the first decade of the 1000s?

I digress.

But I'm still curious to know.

Anyway, starting a new year never really phases me.  It's just another day.  But it's weird to think about changing to a new decade.  Last time that happened, there was fear of computers crashing, and people were scrambling to stock up on non-perishables in case the world ended.  Ha!  As if food would be of any benefit if the world ended.  People never cease to amuse me.

As a thirteen-year-old, I wasn't too concerned about Y2K, but I do remember that I had to leave my friend T.J.'s New Year's Eve party at 11:50 so that I could be safe under the roof of my parents' home when the clock struck midnight.  I remember it being awfully embarrassing to be the only girl in the 7th grade who wasn't allowed to stay at the party to ring in the new year.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

This New Year's Eve was nothing special.  I sat on my couch by myself and graded 100 fictional stories written by my 6th graders.  A party animal, I am!

For white noise, I listened as various television networks had their end-of-the-decade countdowns of sorts.  Top 20 celebrity mistakes of the decade, top songs of the decade, top news stories of the decade, and on, and on, and on.  It was actually kind of interesting for me, as the 00s was the first decade that I can remember entirely.  So, I could remember all of the news stories, all of the songs, and all of the celebrity mishaps.

I even stayed up long enough to watch this:


The more that I think about it, the more I realize what a big decade it was for me.

• My family hosted a foreign exchange student from France.
• I got confirmed.
• I finished middle school.
• I started high school.
• I watched as my country was attacked by terrorists.
• I flew on a plane for the first time.
• I lost a grandparent for the first time.
• I graduated from high school.
• I joined the NASC Volunteer Staff.
• I started college.
• I ended up on crutches and in physical therapy due to an ankle injury.  Three times.
• I drank coffee for the first time in my life.
• I got a credit card.
• I lost two more grandparents.
• I found a new church home.
• I mentored a TeamMate until she graduated from high school.
• I voted in my first election.  For a Black president.  And he won. 
• I got kidney stones.  Twice.
• I watched some of my best friends get married and start families.
• I graduated from college.
• I lost touch with some of my best friends.
• I met some new friends.
• I moved into my first apartment.
• I started my first big-girl job.
• I survived my first year of teaching.
• I started a blog.
• I started graduate school.
• I bought a brand-new car.

So, lots of major life events took place.  The 00s was a fun, adventurous, and challenging decade for me, and I have high hopes that the 10s will be just as great.

Football Saturday

Today is one of the best days in the life of a Nebraskan.  It's the return of college football season.  And in this state, it is cause for celebration.

I have been a Husker fan my whole life, and attending college at UNL gave a whole new meaning to being a Husker.  During my undergrad, I loved going to Husker games.

It didn't matter if it was raining,

Freezing cold,

Early in the morning,

Late at night,

Or 450 miles away.

My friends, family, and I were fully immersed in the Husker football culture.

Now that I am an an adult - more specifically, a non-donating, non-ticket-holding adult - my Husker football season has changed a bit.  I can no longer buy tickets for $21 a game.  I now have to be on a waiting list for season tickets.

Last year, I watched all of the games on TV.  Sometimes people came to my apartment, sometimes I went to other friends' homes, and once or twice I returned home to watch the game with my family.

This year, however, my friend Steph invited me to come to her aunt's tailgate for the game.  I have never been tailgating before, so I was excited to try something new.

Getting there was quite a process.  Steph and I had class from 9-3 before meeting the rest of the gang back at my apartment to carpool downtown.  As it turns out, when 85,000+ fans are all trying to get to the same place, it can be difficult to find parking.  Steph's sister Jess gave us her parking garage card, which gave us a spot without much difficulty, but traffic among other things was a bit stressful.  Then, it took us a while to walk to the Journal Star parking lot and find exactly where Steph's aunt was.

Once we got there, everything was fine.  Steph's aunt was so kind to allow us to join her.  She provided us with food and drinks, and didn't ask us to bring anything.  Her aunt's friends were also great to hang out with.

I love these girls!

Aren't they cute?

Somebody had the idea to take piggy back pictures.

It was all good and well until...

They decided to add Steph's aunt on to Jess's shoulders.

There was lots of laughing

Lots of silliness,

And lots of love :)

Also, lots of community lemonade!

As it turns out, tailgating is a pretty fun way to experience a Husker game.  If you can't be in Memorial Stadium, you might as well be right outside of it.

Go Big Red!

Blast from the Past

Happy 9-02-10 Day!

Can we all take a moment to remember how awesome the 90s were?

Thank you.

Independence City

For the first time in years I didn't go home for Independence Day.  Nothing against my family, it's just that they all had plans of their own.  This year was my parents' 40th high school class reunion, which was held over this past weekend.  My mom was in charge of planning it, so my dad had to attend by default.  I'm sure that if the choice was his, he would have preferred to stay home.  My brother is also busy over 4th of July weekend.  He works for the city in the summer taking care of the parks and ball fields.  Many tournaments happen over the weekends, so Andrew spends most of his day working.  Except for during Water Balloon Wars.

Water Balloon Wars is an event that happens every 4th of July in my town, and is sponsored by the high school FFA chapter.  Water Balloon Wars is basically capture the flag.  If you get hit by a water balloon, you are out.  Really, it's a fun game to play, but the competition is way too fierce for this girl.  Usually, I go simply to be a proud supporter of my brother.  It is a big deal to him, as his team usually claims the championship trophy.

Here are some pictures from past years:

Water Balloon Wars Championship, 2008

Championship Game, 2009

Championship Trophy, 2009

This year, it rained on July 4th.  It rained a lot.  Therefore, Water Balloon Wars was cancelled.  I wasn't there to see it, but I'm sure that my brother was in a state of mourn.  Furthermore, the hot dog eating contest on ESPN was apparently not an exciting competition this year without that Kobayashi guy.  This event is another staple of my brother's 4th of July experience every year.  He looks forward to these events all year, and to not have them was a huge disappointment.

Hopefully, my brother understands that, although they are fun traditions, those kinds of things are not what Independence Day is all about.

The town of Ralston, Nebraska, certainly understands the true meaning of Independence Day.  That's where I spent my Sunday.

My kind friends Ashley and Jeremy invited me to their hometown to spend the day with their closest family and friends.  All year, I hear about how amazing Ralston is on the 4th of July.  They have even nicknamed the town "Independence City."  Finally, this year, I got to experience it for myself.

Just like in Superior, though, it was raining in Ralston.  We were slated to go on some sort of "fun run," which are normally two words that do not appear together in any sentence I construct.  It was only a mile, and you are allowed to walk, which I definitely would have had to do.  Because of the rain, though, they opted out of this "fun."  Thank goodness.

We did, however, go to the parade.  It was the perfect year for me to attend the event, as they were celebrating their 50th consecutive parade.  A bunch of old people around us were talking about how in all 50 years of this parade, this was the first year that they were being rained on.  That would be my luck.

These people are NUTS about their parade.  So much that they go stake out a spot a week in advance.  Literally.  When we arrived, I followed as the whole family set up camp inside a large square that was defined by lines of caution tape that had been staked into the ground.  I have never seen the likes.  It was a good spot, though.  We could hear the announcers and watch the step teams dance in the street, and yet we were far enough away from any parade clowns that might have potentially scared me the small children with whom we were sitting.  

It continued to rain throughout the event, and although I had my umbrella, I was still getting wet.  And you know how well my hair doesn't do when it is rainy and/or humid.  Oh, well.  Here are Ashley and I trying to stay dry at the parade:

Still in good spirits, even though it was raining!

I should have taken more pictures of this parade, but the only one I took was this one:

I don't know why, but it was intriguing to me.  They called themselves the "Candy Corn Mothers," which, I presume, is some sort of club/secret society.  Marching behind this float were younger people dressed in a similar color scheme, and they had their own candy corn title.  I did some Googling, but didn't come up with an answer.  If you know anything about this group, I'd be interested in hearing the story.

Rain or not, it was a fun parade.  It lasted nearly an hour-and-a-half, which is definitely longer than any parade my hometown has ever produced.

After spending a bit more time with Ashley's sweet family, we went over to the Harrell family's house, which is apparently Ashley and Jeremy's second family.  They were the parents of Ashley and Jeremy's best friends, Mike and Casey.  This family gave me such a warm welcome, and I really enjoyed getting to know them.

After a few hours there, we headed off to the Ralson community fireworks show, which is almost as highly regarded as the parade.  Instead of caution tape to mark off our reserved fireworks viewing spot, they had rope being held together by 3-foot-tall metal stakes.  Although some of the family seemed embarassed by the measures that were taken by Mr. Harrell, we ended up with a great spot for fireworks viewing.  They put on a pretty stellar show!

After the fireworks, we navigated back to the Harrell house so that I could head back to Lincoln.  We traveled through some of the strangest fog that I have ever seen, but I made it home safely, thank goodness.

I've been invited back to Ralston next year to experience a rain-free Independence Day clebration.  Although I know that noboy can give a rain-free guarantee one year in advance, I do hope to be able to partake in the festivities again next year.

Please thank a veteran today.  The sacrifices that they have made and are continuing to make so that we may enjoy all of our freedoms are tremendous.  Thanks.

Brother with a Capital B

Today is my Brother's 22nd Birthday.

His name is Andrew.  In my brother's graduating class, there were only 9 boys.  Of those nine, five were named Andrew, so it was determined early on that they would all need nicknames.  My brother, because he was the biggest of all of them, was called Big D.  He liked this nickname, and it suited him well.  He was the biggest lineman on my high school's football team, and now he's one of the biggest linemen on his college football team.  The teachers at my school all referred to him as Big D, and my parents often call him that.  To me, however, he is Brother with a capital B.

I love the story of Brother and I.  My parents got married when they were 28 and tried having a child when they were 30.  My mom's first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, and as a result, she was told that she would never have any more children.  After being on an adoption waiting list for five years, my parents adopted me.  Within my first two months of living with my parents, my mom found out she was pregnant.  To her, this was quite scary, as her doctor told her that it was quite dangerous for her to bear a child.  I love it when God proves doctors wrong.

Eight months later, my baby Brother was born, and ever since, we have been best friends.  We are 10 months and 12 days apart, which I love.  We grew up together - we hit all the milestones at nearly the same time.  Brother was old for his class, and for athletics, that bumped him up to the teams that my guy friends were playing on.  Thus, throughout our schooling, we had the same friends.  I was never much of an athlete, but Brother is, and I have always been his biggest fan.

Brother was always the child that my parents worried most about.  As an infant/toddler, he was the climber, always getting into things.  As a young boy, Brother made a mess out of whatever he touched.  Sometimes, we would find him sitting in the corner peeling paint off the wall.  If he was outside, he would turn on the hose and get filthy while playing in the dirt.  As he got older, breaking windows was his thing.  He broke windows at home, at Champions, and at our elementary schools.  This kid was a wreck.  But, he never failed to give me (the good child) a good laugh!

In our adult lives, I am so thankful that we are more than just siblings.  I love that when my Brother needs to process through the first half of a big Husker game, he calls me.  And I love that when he has an itch to take a trip to Boston or Chicago, he calls me.  And when he wants to go shopping or go to go to a baseball game, he calls me.

Brother has a great sense of humor... he's hilarious, in fact.  He's the kind of guy that funny things always just seem to happen to.  Like here, when the McDonald's worker thought that he ordered ten 4-piece Chicken McNuggets instead of one 10-piece order.

He is also a hard-worker, and will do anything for anyone.  Like in high school when he'd go start my car in the winter mornings so that it would be warm by the time I needed to go to school.  Or when I need someone to take my luggage to my car after a weekend at home.  Or when I need someone to help me move to nine different dorm rooms in a four-year span.  Or when I simply don't want to go wash my car.  He's the best.

So, Brother, I hope that your 22nd year of life is just as great - better even - than the past 21 years have been.  I continue to thank God for bringing us together and making us family...siblings... and friends.  I hope that you know how much I love being your sister and how much I take pride in calling you Brother with a capital B.

Happy Birthday, Brother!

On Living Alone

It is the best.

About a month ago, on the one-year anniversary of my college graduation, I talked to my college best friend/former roomate.  We had the conversation that started with, "Remember where we were a year ago today...?"

I remember it vividly.  I was an RA living in Burr.  She was a resident living in Fedde.  She had moved all of her things out of her room save an air mattress and a change of clothes.  I hadn't yet started packing up my room.  After all, I'm the RA, and I get to move out whenever I darn well please.  Neither of us even wanted to participate in our graduation ceremony, but we merely did it to appease our parents who had waited all 21 years of our lives for this day.  We went out for McDonald's breakfast (classy, right?).  We rode to the Devaney Center together.  We took a few wrong turns on the way there.  We couldn't sit together because we had attended different colleges.  We talked on the phone through parts of the ceremony.  I have no idea who the honored speaker was, but I do remember using my time to catch up with several people with whom I had interacted throughout college.  Also, I talked on the phone with my brother who was seated somewhere up in the arena.  A boring four hours of my life that I will never get back.

 Leaving the Devaney Center, right after we graduated!

Anyway, I remember after the ceremony when we both returned to our dorms, Elie agreed to stick around a while longer before moving back to Omaha to live with her parents.  What was a girl to do in this jobless economy?  I remember thinking, when Elie left me for the night, "What am I going to do without dozens of people at my immediate disposal?"  I remember thinking that I would be sad, lonely, and bored.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Living alone is amazing.  So amazing that I have vowed never to get married or have children of my own, simply because I am not willing to share my living space with anyone.  Ever.

Yesterday, for example, I slept in until 10:00.  I didn't make my bed (and I always make my bed).  I didn't even bother to change out of my pajamas.  I made chocolate chip pancakes for brunch.  And I didn't do the dishes (and I always do the dishes).  I sat outside on my balcony and read for a few hours.  And then I came inside and took a nap for a few hours (and I never take naps).  I played music on my iHome throughout the day.  I made chocolate chip cookies and drank milk straight from the carton.  It was a great day.

When I had roommates, though, this lifestyle would not have been possible.  When I had roommates, it was my job to be the responsible and tidy one (because God knows none of the other ones were willing and able to do the job).  I swear, I don't think one of my roommates (who shall remain nameless) even knew where to take the trash or recycling.  Thankfully, I shared a bathroom with Elie (the cleanest of the three).  UNL provided for us a cleaning lady that came once every other week, and even she refused to clean up the mess that was the bathroom of the other two roommates.  I tried my very best to maintain order in the apartment and to stay out of the way of everyone else's day.  "Oh, you're having friends over?  Don't worry, I'll clean up the apartment.  And don't worry about me getting in your way, I'll go out to run errands or something."

These were my roommates, Mindi, Elie, and Krissy.

 This is the kind of mess we used to create.  In the above picture, we thought it would be a good idea to build a fort.

And when I was an RA, there was absolutely no time to myself.  My "free time" was filled with staff meetings and planning social events and making rounds.  When I wasn't "on duty," young residents were constantly in and out of my room.  "Can you help me with my class schedule?"  "I don't understand my statistics homework.  Can you help me?"  "My boyfriend just broke up with me..."  "I made a big mistake, and I need to talk to someone..."

 I had to plan ridiculous programs like this one, Workout Wednesday.

I would often return to find pictures like these drawn on my white board.

I was rarely left alone.

I wouldn't take that lifestyle back if you paid me to. 

Being by myself is the best.  I can come and go as I please.  I can keep my apartment clean and tidy, and nobody is here to mess it up.  Or, on the day(s) when I decide to not immediately put my dishes in the dishwasher, there is nobody here to complain about it.  And when I want to sit down and enjoy a good book, there is nobody around who feels like they may knock on my door as they please... nobody around who feels entitled to my time. 

Pearl S. Buck once said, “The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being."  With all due respect, Ms. Buck, I couldn't disagree with you more.