The Game - A Spartan Saga

Saturday was the day of the annual, intense rivalry game between Michigan and Michigan State's football teams, and I had a major problem: I had nowhere to watch the game.

I was visiting my friends Katie and Chris in Ohio, and their TV was broken.  This was obviously an issue, since such a big game wasn't streaming online from any station.  Katie and Chris are fellow Spartans, so they also realized the dire straits of this dilemma.  Apparently they'd been talking about getting a new TV anyway, so we decided to go to Best Buy, buy a new TV, and get it set up in time to watch the Spartans smash through the Wolverines to victory.  No problem, right?  Well...

At Best Buy, we encountered problem #1: Katie and Chris couldn't afford the TV they wanted.  Well, technically they could afford it.  They had the money.  They just didn't have the money with them, and their credit cards didn't have enough balance to buy the $1,700 monstrosity with high def and all sorts of bells and whistles that would basically make us feel like we were sucked into the game.  Best Buy wouldn't accept checks. Obviously I wanted them to have the TV, both because I'm a good friend and also I REALLY WANTED TO WATCH THE GAME, so I offered to put the charge on my card.  After all, think of all of the rewards points!  So Katie and Chris wrote me a check, and I put the TV on my card, which is where we encountered...

Problem #2:  My card got declined.  Twice.  I started to panic for a minute, because really I should have had a large balance on my card.  I couldn't think why it got declined.  Now we had no way to buy the TV, and Pete at Best Buy felt sorry for us, but there wasn't much he could do.  Suddenly Chris had an epiphany: "I know why you got declined!" he said,  "It's because you're out of town and your card company suspects fraud!"  Almost as if on cue, my phone pinged with an e-mail from Chase saying that they suspected my card may have been stolen.  Hooray!  A solution!  So I called Chase, provided them with the answers to all of my security questions, and they told me I could go ahead and buy the TV.  Success!  Problems were over!  Let's go home and watch State!

Problem #3: Chris had to set up the TV, which was quite complicated (see below).  Katie and I ran out to get some lunch (Skyline Chili!  I was more excited than Katie.) while we waited for Chris to work his techie magic.  By the time the TV was set up, the first quarter of the game was almost over. Urrrrg!  Finally, though, the TV was set up, and we were ready to watch the game.

Problem #4: AT&T Uverse wouldn't let us watch the game!  Apparently Katie and Chris didn't have the appropriate cable plan to watch the game, and their usual plan of watching it through the ESPN app on their xbox wouldn't work for this game.  Katie called AT&T customer service (always a treat), and that person definitely wasn't a Spartan because they were no help at all.  They basically just told us, "You can't watch the game. #sorrynotsorry."

Problem #5: As I previously mentioned, nowhere in America was streaming the game online.  Nowhere.  We looked.  Luckily, Katie's husband is a hacker extraordinaire, so he hacked into a British station that was playing the game!  All of the commercials were for British products and advertised with British accents, but we didn't care.  We could finally watch our beloved Spartans!  Chris couldn't plug his computer into the new TV because he didn't have the right cords, so after all of our work and $1,700 spent on a TV we couldn't use, we were watching the game on a small computer with an extremely pixelated screen.  But we were watching the game.  I could live with this.  I graded papers and drank a hard cider while watching my team.  Fall had officially arrived.

Problem #6: The game was a very exciting, tense game, but after the third quarter Katie and Chris said we had to leave to go to a youth group event with their church.  They were going to a haunted hayride.  I didn't want to go to a haunted hayride; I wanted to watch the game, but the problem with staying with friends for the weekend is that you basically have to do what they want.   For the forty minute drive to the house where we were eating pizza before the hayride, I obsessively updated my phone for score updates.  I announced them periodically when something changed.  I was glad to know what was going on, but I wished I was watching the game.

Solution #1:  When we arrived at the youth group person's house for pizza, I was amazed.  The house was huge and straight out of a magazine.  I secretly think it's the Better Homes and Gardens headquarters.  They probably have an office in the basement with all of the writers who periodically come upstairs to take pictures of the rooms for their spreads.  My mouth dropped open when I saw the kitchen.  The only thing that could possibly look more beautiful than the kitchen at that moment was when I walked into the living room and saw a huge, flat-screen, high-def television playing THE game!  HOORAY!!!!  For the first time that day, something went right!  The only thing that could numb my joy was the fact that Michigan was winning, but at least I was there to watch.  I tried to sneakily take pictures of their beautiful house without people thinking I was a creeper, but I was largely unsuccessful.

As the seconds ticked down, it looked like Michigan had clinched the victory.  A few kids suggested maybe we should head over to the hayride, as the game was "practically over."  Katie, Chris, and I asked if we could stay to watch the ending, because we stand by our team from kickoff until the final buzzer (well, except for all of the parts we missed due to the aforementioned problems, but really...we tried).

THEN.  With TEN SECONDS left in the game, the most improbable thing I have ever seen in college football happened:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-kD_8QZM9k

We stared in open-mouth disbelief as the punter fumbled the ball right into our player's hands.  We screamed at him to run as if he could hear us.  We watched the buzzer hit zero, and we knew this one play was all we had.  If he was tackled, if he was pushed out of bounds, if ANYTHING went wrong, the game was over and Michigan would win.  Still, somehow, literally against all odds...he made it by inches into the endzone.  The living room of the Better Homes and Gardens mansion erupted into screams.  Even the youth group kids were excited, because what a crazy ending to a game!  We hugged, we jumped, we spontaneously started singing the MSU fight song...it was awesome.  I would have started jumping on the couch in happiness if that couch didn't probably cost more than my house.

All in all, it was quite the saga to try to watch the game, but the saga had a very happy ending because we got to watch the craziest ending in football history on a TV that showed that play in crystal clear detail.  I felt like I was there, and it felt GOOD.

Go Green.  Go White.  Go State!

The Dark (Blue) Secret

Everyone has secrets.  I have secrets, you have secrets.  Every once in a while, though, when a secret gets revealed, you think, "WHOA!  I did not see that one coming."

This happened with my husband this weekend.

My sister-in-law bought her family season tickets to University of Michigan football this year (Yippee!  Go Michelle!).  Rex and I are OBVIOUSLY State fans, not U of M ones, but Big 10 football is awesome no matter how you slice it.  We got the tickets to go to this weekend's game against UNLV, and we were very grateful for the opportunity.  I wanted to wear a Las Vegas shirt, but I realized that I have no UNLV shirts or even any that say Las Vegas on them.  Strange!  Then again, do you have a shirt with your town's name on it?  I guess when you live there it's weird to buy touristy shirts.  Hmmm.  Plus, Michelle told us that the tickets were in the alumni section and that we needed to please not embarrass her.  Therefore I couldn't go wearing an MSU shirt or anything, which would look ridiculous anyway since we weren't playing them.  I begrudgingly agreed to wear a U of M shirt, since we did get the tickets for free and all.  I wanted to be nice.

I CLEARLY do not own and U of M shirts (ew, gross, the thought of it gives me the willies).  I asked a friend at work if I could borrow one of hers because I know that she goes to U of M games sometimes.  Unfortunately, she couldn't find hers the night before the game.  She suggested I go buy one.  "They're only like, $10," she said.  I steadfastly refused.  I am not paying my hard-earned money to support maize and blue.  No siree.  Not even if it's only $10.  I told Rex that I was disappointed to not be supporting either team, but that I would just end up wearing some non-descript outfit to the game.  It felt wrong, like showing up to a Halloween party without a costume or singing in a choir but forgetting your robe.  Everyone else would be wearing team apparel, and I'd be a loser.  Suddenly, Rex comes up with this:

"I think I have a U of M shirt you can borrow."

Huh?  I mean, I knew he had a sordid past of being a U of M fan in high school, but this was almost a decade ago.  We'd long since worked through that issue and moved past it (lol).  He'd been since enlightened.  Why would a U of M shirt still be lurking in our house?  I told Rex, "Well...if you can find the shirt, that might be nice..."  I was figuring that, if such a shirt did exist, it would be buried in a forgotten box somewhere in a dusty corner.  Preferably one with spiders and mice ruining the clothes inside.

To my surprise and slight horror, Rex came back upstairs a few minutes later with a box.

"Which shirt would you like?" he asked.  "I have this one..." he pulled out a standard maize-and-blue Michigan shirt, "or this one..." he pulled out a Rose Bowl 2004 shirt, "...or this one..." he pulled out a maize-and-blue jersey.  He then started on the sweatshirts, other T-shirts, and this veritable COLLECTION of University of Michigan attire.  My mouth dropped open.  Who is this man?!  Why does he have so many enemy clothes?!  How have these clothes made it through SIX moves since we've been married without me discovering them?!

It was as if he was showing me a secret porn stash or something.  WHY DO WE HAVE THESE DISGUSTING THINGS IN OUR HOUSE?!  And how did he find them so quickly?!  Is he a secret U of M fan?  How can I be married to a stealth wolverine?

It was quite shocking.  I didn't know what to do with the fact that we have all of these clothes.  Unfortunately, I had agreed to wear a shirt to the game.  I chose one that mostly fit, but I felt dirty wearing it.  We has a great time at the game, but now that it's over I'm trying to figure out what to do with this box of nasty Michigan clothes.  Knowing Rex, he's probably already hidden it back wherever it was before so I can't find it and burn it.

Go Green.
Go White.

Forever.

Ripped Shorts

Want me to let you in on a little secret?

Come closer to the computer...I don't want anyone else to hear it...

Marriage isn't always fun.

*GASP!*  I know you're gasping right now.  I'm sorry to have to rock your world like this.  It's not.  Sometimes it's work.  Sometime's it's compromise.  Oh, you want an example?  Sure.  I've got one.  Sometimes I have to let Rex dress himself when we go to parties, even though he might look ridiculous.  You know, because I have to respect his individuality or whatever.

A good example of this is when we went to a dinner party for a lady at his work.  I had just gone to a wedding with Rex the evening prior, where he had worn a shirt and tie and looked very nice (because I told him he had to and picked out his clothes).  Therefore I felt that I needed to back off and not tell him what to wear to this dinner party.  When he came downstairs in ripped shorts, a blue collared beer shirt with "Rex" embroidered on the front, black socks, and a camouflage hat, I shook my head but stayed quiet.  I'm his wife, not his mom.  If he wants to look like a weirdo, that's on him.

When we got to the party, he got a couple weird looks (duh), but my absolute favorite moment of the night came when Lindy, the hostess's eighteen-year-old daughter, said, "Okay Rex.  Um...explain your outfit to me."  He acted surprised and said, "What?  What's wrong with my outfit?"  I almost spit my lemonade out from laughing.  Lindy continued, "No!  It's just that...I want to be laughing with you, not at you, so you need to explain the ripped shorts and why you look like a mechanic mixed with a lumberjack."

THANK YOU, LINDY!!!

I seriously could have hugged her.  These are the things I can't say to Rex.  Rex, suddenly (possibly?) realizing that he looked ridiculous, tried to defend himself:  "I love these shorts!  I've had them since I was sixteen!  See, these shorts are really a metaphor for life: once I find something I love, I never let it go.  So maybe they have a few rips in them, maybe they're not as great as they once were, but do I stop wearing them?  No!  I am loyal!  This should be comforting to Christine.  If she ever gets old and fat or stops being all awesome like she is now, she knows that I'll never let her go because I never let anything go once I really love it.  Like these shorts."

Which, you know, was a little bit sweet in it's own weird, Rexish way...but I still want to burn those dumb shorts.  Lindy tried to make sense of the rest of the outfit, but eventually gave up because...come on...the outfit made no sense.  At least it was Rex's work party and not mine.  I have my school picnic on Friday, and I'm already trying to figure out a way to dress him while letting him think he came up with the outfit himself...hmmm...  Maybe I'll call Lindy for help.

The Things We Do for Love

Rex has picked up a new hobby: grouse hunting.

This is kind of like saying, "Michael Jordan picked up a new hobby...it's called basketball."  Or "Italy picked up a new hobby...it's called pasta."  Rex is SO into grouse hunting.  He eats/sleeps/breathes grouse hunting.  He doesn't even go on facebook anymore because he found a new social media site that's "way better" and only for grouse hunters.  Because if you're not a grouse hunter, why on earth would he want to keep up on anything going on in your life?  He wouldn't.  Duh.

We've put well over $1,000 into our (his) ridiculously crazy hunting dog, Ruby.  There's buying the puppy itself, then vet appointments, shots, special collars, etc. etc. etc.  This is an expensive hobby.  I wish my hobby (writing) would start making some money so that we could afford his!

Anyway, this weekend Rex was running Ruby through the woods at his grandparents' farm (it's not hunting season yet, so she wasn't hunting anything).  I asked if I could go with him for two reasons: 1. I am a supportive wife, and 2. I wanted to see what all of the fuss is about.  He said sure, so we went together.

It's not that I don't LIKE grouse hunting...

...I mean, it's pretty fun when you really think about it...

...sort of...

...if you think about it in a certain way...

Okay here's the thing: I was completely unprepared.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I wore jeans and a t-shirt.  Rex wore a hunting vest with hiking boots and literal chaps (like a cowboy - CHAPS).  I thought he looked stupid until I got all sorts of briars and prickers in my legs.  Then I wished that I was wearing chaps too.  Ruby looked like something off of a sci-fi show with her millions of collars and antennae and bells strapped on her before we left ("This one's the GPS collar, this one's the e-collar, this antenna tracks her..." etc.  I tuned him out but nodded appreciatively and pretended I knew what he was saying).

We started walking through the woods, and I whispered something to Rex.  He answered back in a totally normal voice and said, "Why are you whispering?"  Umm...I don't know, because we are HUNTING!??!  I thought you always had to be quiet during hunting.  Apparently birds don't care about that, which I didn't know.  Oops.

Hunting with a dog (even when we're not actually hunting) means that you follow the dog through all sorts of thick brush and thickly wooded areas.  Our dumb dog doesn't know how to use her nose yet, so we were literally just following her around while she frolicked through the forest.  I put my hand on a tree to steady myself at one point, and a slug fell on my arm.  I didn't want Rex to think I was a weenie, so I obviously couldn't be all, "Ewwwww!!! A SLUG!" but I'm sorry: ewwwww...a slug.  It slimed me.

I got all kinds of scratches and bug bites, I got dirt all over, and I couldn't help thinking, "Ummm...why does Rex think this is fun?"  Then I looked at Ruby, and I got a little idea of why.  I have never seen a dog so happy.  She was bounding through the woods with the biggest smile on her face, her tongue lolling out to the side, and her eyes round and bright as if to say, "THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!!"  Then I looked at my husband, and I realized he looked basically the same way (minus the tongue lolling out of his mouth, because that would be weird and somewhat concerning).  So even though I made the mistake of putting my hand on another tree and accidentally touching a giant spider (again: EW), I decided that maybe this isn't so bad after all.  If it makes my family happy, it makes me happy.  I just need to get some chaps and bug spray.  Also maybe some gloves so I don't have to touch any more nasties crawling on the trees.

*sigh*  Why can't he pick up an easy/cheap hobby like stargazing or reading Shakespeare?

Airport Blogging (again)

I always blog in airports.  Next time someone asks me what my hobbies are, I’m going to say, “Mostly blogging in airports.”  It’s a good hobby, because it combines my love of travel and my love of writing.  It’s a 2-for-1 hobby.  If there’s something else I love besides blogging in airports, it’s getting a good deal.  Therefore this is the hobby for me.

I’m in the Baltimore airport this time.  I’m with my mom, and we’re headed to Vermont by way of Boston.  I have a doctor’s appointment in New Hampshire tomorrow, but tonight we’re headed to Vermont solely so that I can cross Vermont off of my “50 by 30” bucket list (I want to see all 50 states by the time I turn 30…it seemed like a silly goal a while ago, but when I realized I only have five left to go, I figured why not give it a shot?  After today, I’ll only have four more to go, and I’m only 26.  Maybe I can actually do this!).  I didn’t participate much in planning this trip, as I’ve been simultaneously winding down from my international trips and gearing up for the new school year.  My mom planned the whole thing…which is already turning out to be interesting.

First of all, we almost drove to Detroit when we were flying out of Grand Rapids.  That would have been bad.  Now that we’re chilling in Baltimore, I took the opportunity to ask my mom where we were going in Vermont.  After all, it’s a small state, but there are still a lot of options.  I figured maybe we’d go to the capitol or one of the scenic New England trail locations or something.  She told me that we were going to a little town called “Brattleborough.”  She chose it because it’s right across the border into Vermont from New Hampshire.  Okay Mom, no prob.  I bet there’s lot’s to do there.

There isn’t.  I looked up Brattleborough on my phone, and I am telling you – this town is WEIRD.  I went to the town’s website, and it is vastly boring.  I went to the special events page to see what’s going on this weekend.  Nothing is.  If you wait until September 13, you could be there for “Town Caring Day.”  WHAT?!  We’re missing Town Caring Day?!  Send me back to Michigan.  If I’m not in Brattleborough for Town Caring Day, I see no point in going.  My mom loved the idea of Caring Day.  I said it's dumb because now everyone in the town can be rude jerks to us, and we can't even complain.  They'll just say, "Sorry, you should have come on Town Caring Day.  Today we don't care."

Another special event this month is that some lady is showing an “exhibition” of some pictures she took on her trip to India.  Don’t get me wrong – I love travel pictures.  But is a lady showing pictures from her trip really importnat enough to put on the city events page?!  I feel like striding into the town square (because let’s be honest here, there’s probably a town square) and yelling, “Hear ye, hear ye!  Residents of Brattleborough!  I too have ventured beyond the city limits!  Gather round while I regale you with tales of adventure and suspense!”  Then they can add me to their city events page.

I decided to go to Trip Advisor to see what to do in Brattleborough because the town’s page wasn’t too helpful.  Unfortunately, Trip Advisor wasn’t too helpful either.  Looks like Brattleborough’s bustling tourist industry includes a bowling alley, a thrift shop, and an organ museum (organ the instrument, not the body parts...though the body parts one would have been infinitely more interesting).  My mom and I are in for a weird day.

As I was doing this research, I got a facebook message from my little sister.  She’s setting up her classroom in Albania, and she wanted to know if my mom and I were available to Skype.  Because we were sitting in an airport with nothing to do but dream of bowling in Brattleborough, we said yes.  My mom tried to get Skype on her tablet, and she…well…had issues.  I tried to help, but eventually I said, “okay, just give me that” and did it myself.  We finally got Cara called on Skype, and I handed the tablet back to my mom.  Our connection wasn’t great because of the slow WiFi, so it was difficult to see/hear Cara at first.  My mom talked right into the microphone (because this is what parents always seem to do on facetime/skype), and suddenly I heard Cara yelling, “MOM!  Back up!  MOM!  I CAN ONLY SEE YOUR TOOTH!  I can’t see Christine!”  I showed my mom how it was supposed to work, and she backed up.  Then Cara demonstrated to us what she had seen on her end (essentially just one tooth), and I was laughing so hard I was crying.  Parents and technology don’t mix.  

(For the record, I am laughing out loud as I am writing this because it was seriously that funny.  The people sitting next to me on the plane think I’m a wackadoo.  Oh by the way, writing this blog post has moved from the airport to the plane.  I hope you’re enjoying my journey).

We skyped with Cara for a few minutes, but the connection finally died for real.  Perhaps we’ll try again when we get to our hotel in Brattleborough (if, you know, that town has heard of WiFi, which I am not taking for granted).  Right as the connection died, we heard some clapping a couple of gates over from us.  It turns out a few World War II veterans had just gotten off of a plane, and some people were holding small flags and wheeling their wheelchairs through the airport.  All the people at that gate stood and clapped in respect for the men.  As they were wheeled closer to us, the people at the next gate stood too.  Then our gate did.  As the men were wheeled through the airport, the people at every gate stood up and clapped in respect for the men who had served our country.  It was so beautiful.  Then one of the old men started to cry, and I just about lost it.  Some Navy officers walked behind, accompanying the veterans to wherever they were going, and we clapped for them too.  America is cool sometimes.

Now I’m zipping through the air enjoying this view, and waiting for what adventures (or not) await in Vermont.

***UPDATE***  I couldn’t write this on the plane, but the lady who sat next to me on the flight was a TOTAL NUTTER.  She was an older lady with gray-blonde hair put up in a loose bun, she was wearing a denim shirt with mom jeans, and she had those huge bug eye glasses with very clearly striated trifocal lenses.  Okay, can you picture her?  Great.  When the plane started accelerating to take off, she started mumbling and counting quietly on her fingers.  When the plane finally left the ground, she stopped counting, looked at me, and said, “Good. It must be full of fuel.”  Ummm…okay.  Then, later, she said, “Look!” excitedly and pointed to the cloud picture I posted above.  I, being a mostly normal and sane person, thought she meant, “Look at those beautiful clouds!”  Indeed they were beautiful.  Instead, she said, “Look!  I think that’s Danny’s remains!”  Then she started frantically snapping pictures of Danny’s remains before they could dissipate again.  I almost asked…but I really didn’t want to know.  I smiled and tried to get really focused on my blog so she wouldn’t talk to me again.

Whew.  What a day.  And it’s not even over yet.

Fake Diamonds

Getting fake engaged isn't as easy as it used to be.

Prior to yesterday, I'd forgotten all about the April Fool's Joke that Rex and I played back when we were eighteen.  I was leaving for a senior year spring break trip with my girlfriends, and Rex bought me a fake engagement ring from Meijer.  While sitting in the airport with my girls, I made the "happy announcement" that Rex and I were engaged.  They were shocked and horrified, as another girl in our class really was engaged at the time, and we'd all discussed how the idea of being engaged while still in high school was completely insane.  They tried to act happy-ish to not make me mad, but also said things such as, "I mean...are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"  They were extremely relieved when they found out it was only a joke.

I thought about this yesterday because it would have been really handy if I still had that fake engagement ring.

My wedding ring is the most beautiful one I've ever seen (I know all y'all have beautiful wedding rings, but mine's my favorite.)  I love it, and I would be extremely sad if anything ever happened to it.  The center stone in the ring was a little wobbly yesterday, and this made me nervous.  It would be very expensive to replace that diamond if it fell out.  I took the ring to our jeweler, and he agreed to send the ring out to have the diamond reset (for free, because Rex has a lifetime warranty on that ring.  Phewf!  Go Rex!).  Unfortunately, that means I'm wedding ring-less for the next week and a half.

I feel really weird when I don't wear my wedding ring, and I knew it would be especially weird this weekend because Rex and I are going to a family wedding where lots of out-of-town relatives will be there.  His family is really close, and rumors spread fast.  I didn't want anyone to see that neither Rex nor I were wearing our wedding rings and start rumors that our marriage is on the rocks.  Rex has his ring on his keychain because it gets in his way when working on patients.  I'm fine with that, but I do think it would be a little weird for neither of us to be wearing a ring, especially to a large family wedding (where everyone inevitably looks at wedding rings).

I needed a new ring.  I had no idea where the fake one from high school was, so I decided to go shopping and get a new one.  After all, how often do I have the excuse, "Sorry Rex, I HAD to go buy new jewelry?  No way around it."  I was instantly excited by this idea.  I love rings, even fake ones.  What cut did I want?  Princess?  Emerald?  Marquis?  Fake white gold or fake yellow gold?  Did I want one with side stones or a solitaire?  So many choices...  I wished I would have had some warning on this.  I should have planned ahead.  Every girl should have a gorgeous fake wedding ring waiting in the wings for such a time as this.  I can't believe I didn't think of that before.  Really, this sounds like an I idea I would have come up with prior to yesterday.  Alas.  I was unprepared.

I went to a few different stores in the mall looking for cheap rings, but nothing was really exciting to me.  I found a pretty fake sapphire ring reminiscent of Princess Diana/Duchess Kate's ring, but I decided I couldn't buy that one because then Rex would say, "Why didn't you just wear the sapphire ring I already bought you?"  (He's bought me a ring in every gemstone because...well...I think he might actually believe I'm a princess.  Shhh...no one tell him I'm not).  I only have one diamond ring, though (well, two...but the other one's in the shape of a bow so it's OBVIOUSLY not wedding ring material).  I needed a fake diamond.  I wanted it to look semi-realistic, too, not like a five-carat monstrosity that could only be afforded by a Kardashian if it was real.  Apparently realistic fake wedding rings are not as easy to find as they were back in 2007.

Eventually I settled on one from JC Penny.  I don't love it, but it was only $10.  I guess it will make me that much happier when I finally get my real ring back.

Oh, hi there

Hello, you!  You're still following this blog?  The one I've abandoned all summer?  How kind of you!

This summer has easily been the most life-changing summer I've ever had.  That includes the summer that I lived at the Crookston farm.  That also includes the summer that I graduated from college and got married.  That should show you how significant it was. I mean, I'm currently sitting at my desk at school (not supposed to be working - don't worry.  I'm still on summer break).  I'm looking at the date on my whiteboard: "June 1, 2015."  I feel like I don't even recognize the woman who wrote that date almost three months ago.  To dig into the complexities of these differences would fill pages of blog that you don't have time to read and I don't have time to write.  Just know that I came out of this summer stronger, smarter, more globally-minded, and way less naive.  I feel like I'm going to look back at the summer of 2015 as "the summer when I grew up."  Seriously.  This is strange, as I'm twenty-six, married, a homeowner, and five years into a stable career.  By all appearances, I should have already been grown up.  I think I thought I was.  Newsflash: I wasn't.

I'm not the only one who changed this summer.  My pantry did too.  I opened the door today and laughed at the fact that two staples of my current diet had never been in my house prior to this summer:

Nutella was a favorite in Germany, and soba noodles were a favorite in Japan.  To give you an idea: this morning I ate a croissant with jam and nutella for breakfast, then for lunch I ate that box of soba noodles.  Oh, and I ate them with chopsticks.  Rex and I both eat Asian food at least once a week now, and we actually use the nice set of metal chopsticks that I bought in Korea.  Just in case those ones ever get old, I also bought a set in Japan that are on standby.  My one food regret is that I can't get gimbop in the United States.  This was my favorite food in Korea. I'm wondering if I can learn how to cook it.  Maybe I should ask one of the moms at my school.  They can cook anything.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in - let you know I'm back - and promise that this blog will be back to normal as soon as possible.  Even though I'm back in Michigan, I'm sure I'll find some adventures to be had.  I always do.  :-)