Winta break happenin's

I found out a couple surprising things today:

1) My dad is fostering another collie (Chloe got adopted!), and brought sweet Addison home: Guys, she is SUCH a sweetheart! Though she did follow me around and gave me "woe-is-me" eyes while I nibbled on my Panera dinner, I instantly fell in love with this dog. My grandma even commented (very dryly, might I add), "Wow, look at that...Mommy and Baby."


2) My dad knows the "Bed Intruder" song: I know this because this fellow (not the elephant) serenaded me with it tonight.

It is now clear to me that we indeed share the same DNA.

Tomorrow I leave for the great and snowy state of Ohio where the following will probably ensue:

1) My cousin Divya and I will be asked to help do something constructive, like help build a shelf for my aunt's school and we'll end up breaking it.

2) The adults will argue (loudly) when we're out for dinner over who will pay the bill and my dad and uncle will end up arm wrestling (in public).

3) Divya and I will probably get a bottle of wine and laugh at them.

4) My incredibly sweet former pharmacist grandfather will lecture us on the dangers of taking Midol during "that time" and make us do Yogi headstands in the corner where the big green potted plant sways dangerously.

5) Div and I will eat a good lunch and said grandfather will probably try to forcefeed us some more because we only had one sandwich, not twelve.

6) We'll watch a romantic comedy and when the couples kiss, all of the adults will blush/not-so-subtly turn away and then try to cover our eyes with pillows (i.e. smother us).

7) Someone will slip on a patch of ice and go to the emergency room. One year it was my grandfather. Next it was my dad (who says he slipped because he was carrying a shelf; I believe he slipped because he was grooving to ABBA, which was playing on the Ipod at the time).

8) Div and I will be banished to the basement but will make up for it by eating everything in the pantry late at night.

And you know what? I. Cannot. Wait.

A little note

Well.

I figured a post about my mom would eventually find its way into this here blog. So here it is:

Mom/Mommy/"YOU-stop stalking my friends on Facebook!",

I do not say this enough but I am a lucky, lucky girl. I have a constant cheerleader whose immediate willingness to claw at anyone who doubts or messes with her daughters always amazes me. I am quite lucky to have you for a best friend, one who can make me laugh within the first five seconds. I appreciate everything you do, from driving thirty minutes to merely hand off your sickly child a bottle of Ginger Ale to listening to me gripe about how irritating life is to always making sure I have decent denim. Most importantly, though, I appreciate how giving you are to others-I've never seen you turn away from a friend in need, yours or mine. It's something that I'll take with me for the rest of my life. I never grow tired of our dates, and always look forward to those Saturday mornings at Mimi's Cafe,where you will talk to me, order pancakes (sans the bacon) with me, and fill me in on the latest drama-fest that is The Housewives of ________ County.

I love you.

Sprinklers and Boy Bands

I was a young tot when I was introduced to something that would virtually shape my whole third grade and beyond:



Indeed. A.J, the bad boy with the massive amounts of tattoos and facial hair; Nick, the blond baby-face with a bowl-haircut; Brian, the crooner with a guitar and a voice that sounded like he sometimes had a frog in his throat; Howie, the oddity of the bunch, along with Kevin, the one who was like, thirty, when he joined a boy band. Regardless, I rocked out hardcore to that album. I mean, really. "Everybody?" "Quit Playing Games with my Heart?" Best. Jams. Ever. I remember my dad constantly playing track number ten-"Get Down (You're the One for Me)"-every morning just so I would do the A.J rap and dance that I made up to it. It was our daily morning ritual and our daily bonding moment, and to be honest...I miss that.

I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I've been thinking about how our bonding rituals revolve around our love for Will & Grace, music, life conversations, and yes, Meredith traditions. Every single Cornhuskin' season, the man dons a thick jacket and thermal pants and baseball hat and sits through the skits, the dances....everything. And it's been making me a little bit sad that this is the last Corn he and my mom are coming to, the last Corn that we'll spend allllll Saturday morning reliving and comparing the Odds and Evens (he's a permanent Oddy. True fact), and the last Corn he'll get to see me let loose and get a little crazy. I'm beginning to realize that I think this Cornhuskin' is going to be bittersweet for me...and him.

This morning I decided to, er, "take a mental health day" from CORE, so I headed over to the Bean with my Shakespeare book to memorize my monologue for class. It was so beautiful outside and when I was on my way back, my windows were down, music was blaring, and I was telling myself, "This is going to be a GREAT day." As soon as I thought this, while coming up on the Meredith front drive, the funniest thing happened: the sprinklers turned on. And my windows were down. You see the connection. My face was sprayed silly, but I was still determined to have a great day. I leaned into the back of my super-messy, super-crammed car for my paper towels and my fingers brushed against something:

A semi-cracked, blue-and-cream album that had been scratched from so many listens. The first Backstreet Boy album coupled with tons of memories in the car with my dad. And I couldn't help but smile.

That's when I realized today was going to be a good day.