Friday, December 24, 2010

A Christmas Eve Story

Christmas morning used to be my favorite. Everything leading up to it was training for the big day. I could barely fall asleep at night due to the reindeer hooves on the roof (Bob feet in the attic) and I would wake up my sisters as early as I was allowed in the morning. We would wait upstairs or on the stairs while Mom and Bob made coffee. When we got the word, we would scramble down the stairs and one of us would play "elf" by passing out rounds of presents, one per person per round. Presents are always opened youngest to oldest.

Well as it appears, I'm getting older. In the past seven or eight years things have changed and today I made the final decision that Christmas Eve has now surpassed Christmas morning.

In general, we have the same routine.

The night of the 23rd we roll the dough for sticky buns. At about 9 am we start delivering the wonderful breakfast platters to about 10 to 12 close family friends. Some people have been getting them since we moved to Alpharetta in 1995, but my family has been doing this for years before that.

In the afternoon we go to church. We sing the same songs, listen to the same soloist, and delight in the same candlelight singing of Silent Night.

After church we head to the Carters, possibly our closest family friends, house. There between four and eight families meet every year to catch up and enjoy each others company. Bunny Boy (A Christmas Story) is always running it's 24 hour marathon which is required to be on in the background.

It's not so much what has changed in the past few years, it's how I look at things.

First and foremost, I like my sleep. So waking up in the wee hours of the morning is no longer an option. I also know what most of my gifts are, and while that means they're things I really want/need, the element of surprise is...not so much.

This morning, while delivering sticky buns, I got to talk to some great people. The Lochers, whom I don't see very often, got to meet Grady and we visited for a long time. I also went to drop some off at Haley Nelson's house, which somehow I didn't leave for over an hour and a half. This morning's fellowship was the first thing that reminded me how much I love Christmas Eve.

Tonight at the Carters was happy hour. We went our separate ways for dinner but happy hour was together.

And it's safe to say it was a success.

It was hard to determine what was my favorite part but I've mapped out some of the best:

- Bob brought a mini keg.

- Miss James (Grandma) was drinking wine, much to the dismay of her daughter. And girlfrand DRANK that wine.

- The two 20-year-olds drank beer in front of their parents- Kevin to looks of apathy from the parents, Ben nervously darting his eyes towards his mother, waiting for a lecture or ID check.

- Kevin taught Miss James how to "pound it," complete with explosion.

- Aunt Nancy entered the room announcing, "HO HO HO...the hoe is HERE!!!" After reintroducing herself to Kevin she realized he's the same boy she's seen for at least 10 years of Christmas Eve's and decided he'd grown up well. She then made a motion to take him into the other room with her.

I mean honestly...I can't pick just ONE favorite.

All that being said, it's wonderful that I get to spend the holidays with such wonderful people. I would take a Christmas Eve over a Christmas morning any day.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Grady's Lady

I am home. Articles turned in, scantrons filled out, done with fall semester. Done done done.

I came home yesterday to meet the male boxer my parents rescued. After seeing a picture of him I thought he was adorable and wonderful and that we'd be life long friends. I suggested that we name him Grady after the UGA journalism school. And we did.

I annoyed the heck out of my manfriend, saying at least 40 times, "I get to meet Grady soon!" I liked him already.

So you can imagine my excitement when I got home yesterday and got to see him in person for the first time. After saying hi to him, I sat on the floor to pet our other dog, Sugar.

As I was sitting and petting, my new friend Grady decided we should take things to the next level. He promptly climbed onto my shoulders and began expressing his masculinity towards my back. In a moment of realization, I made a strange "Wahhhhhhh!??!?!" noise and crawled around until I could escape from his grasp and stand up.

I looked around, begging the invisible crowd for some pity.

Once I regained some dignity, I unloaded the car, got some water, and sat down on the couch. Grady climbed up on the couch next to me and, remembering how Bob said Grady was a lap dog, I welcomed him.

POOR DECISION, CINDY.

Once again, I fell victim to our unneutered stray. I caught on to what was happening a little quicker this time and I pushed him off the couch and scrambled away until I could stand up and look back in disbelief.

Luckily, Grady's losing his manhood tomorrow morning at nine. Hopefully we can be friends after that, but first impressions can be hard to forget.

Friday, December 10, 2010

See you later

This morning one of my best friends and my roommate of the past 2.5 years graduated and moved out. Her room is empty and white and depressing. So instead of sulking I'm going to remember the good times. And what better way to do that than to look through all my pictures and post a ton of them?

So, Ann-Katherine Hailey, here's to one trip to Memphis:




One cup and string phone:



One emotional fish funeral:



Two years of Spike for Life:




Two Daddy-Daughter days with Bob:




Two spring breaks:





Three formals:





Three dance marathons:




Four bid days:





Four falls of gamedays:






Five boxes of hair dye:



Seven birthdays:






Tons of socials:







And possibly even more date nights:








And so, in a moment of sappiness, here is my favorite friendship quote ever, courtesy of Winnie the Pooh:

"If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”

Hopefully the end of college won't be the end of our wonderful times together. Miss you already.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Published again!

Woohoo!

My big final article from my internship in internal communications at Emory Healthcare has finally gone up on the website! I wrote a number of articles during my internship (summer 09) but this was an article where I wrote, interviewed and photographed the story.

Check it out here!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Hunters and gatherers

As much as I would love to spend all night posting about the wonders of the Austin/Athow family Thanksgiving, I have a rough week of school work ahead of me and the creative juices are temporarily stalled. Instead, though, I can give you a short anecdote about last weekend.

Darling boyfriend decided to take me on a date to Outback Steakhouse because he had a gift card. Unfortunately, we've never gone to the Outback by his house in Atlanta so we had to Google it. Once we found the closest location we plugged it in the GPS and were on our way.

At about Lenox mall we got kind of lost so we just parked and decided to walk. Seeing how there are a bunch of office buildings on the side where the GPS was leading us, we figured Outback was in between them or on the bottom level.

So we set out on foot.

We walked about six buildings to the right, decided the numbers were going the wrong way, and doubled back.

Then we saw a parking sign for the number we were looking for. Which led us to a parking garage. Which we walked through for a few minutes before we realized we were nowhere close to an Outback.

Finally we found the right street number, but the doors were locked to get into the building. The security guard looked alarmed and a few employees leaving the building looked at us quizzically.

Employee: Can I help you?
Jason: Yea, we're looking for Outback.
Employee: Outback what?
Jason: Outback Steakhouse. There's supposed to be one at this address.
Employee: Oh. Well this is Outback... corporate.
**pause**
Me: Some date.

After some "Awwww"s from the employees I explained that it wasn't anywhere close to our first date and I was joking.

And then we walked back to the car, looked up the next closest Outback, and eventually enjoyed a nice meal. Only after working for it though.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Baby steps...

I was just sent this link and I'm in awe.

If you don't have time to read it all, here's the jist:

A teacher in Howell, Michigan asked a student to remove a confederate flag belt buckle and later asked two students to leave the classroom after a heated discussion about gay rights. This video of a 14-year-old student standing up for that teacher has gone viral. I am AMAZED at his confidence and tact.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Walk the walk

Thursday I went to the gym, but there was a volleyball game which means you have to pay to park, and my health is not worth $5 so I came home. Since I was all ready to break a sweat, I thought doing YouTube workout videos would be a good alternative.

I only did 20 minutes of legs, butt and abs, but I had trouble walking for the next two days. Which was a problem. Because Saturday morning, while at the mountains with my whole family, we went on a six mile walk. First half is up a mountain to a tower and the second half is back down.

I repeat, first half is UP.



As if my butt wasn't sore enough, I am once again immobilized.

My hopeful boyfriend says it's just growing pains.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Keyed

Today I worked out. After watching the last half an hour of Gilmore Girls on the elliptical I decided to visit my recent friend, the Stairmaster.

As I was climbing onto the machine, I put my towel and iPod into the little cup, and then grabbed my key. As I was going to put it in the cup, it slipped out of my hand, tumbling in slow motion onto the stair below me and then bouncing into the gap between the fake stairs and the side panel.

I stared into the gap for a second and lifted my head to meet the eye of the girl on the elliptical next to me who was now giving me a look that clearly said she was glad she wasn't me.

I stepped down and did an awkward side-squat to see if the key had dropped onto the ground but if it had I wouldn't be blogging about it.

I probably would have walked away, ignoring the predicament, if my wallet, phone and keys weren't in the locker that could only be opened by that key.

So I did the walk of shame to the front desk and, head hanging, told the guy what I had done.

He asked which of the two Stairmasters I was on and I said, "The one no one's on." At which point he nodded and then said, "The one that girl is about to get on?!" And I said yes.

With that, he sprinted across the gym and yelled, "DON'T GET ON THERE!" to the now terrified, probably freshman girl. I hung my head again and did a speed walk back to the Stairmaster, pretending Super Gym Guy hadn't made a scene.

After I explained where the key was, the dude had to go get a screwdriver and told me to make sure no one else tried to get on. So I stood behind the Master and pretended like I was stretching until he got back.

With half the gym watching and me still stretching, pretending I had nothing to do with it, he dissembled the left side of the machine until I could reach in and grab my little key.

I am well stretched and borderline mortified.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Life's a Beach

Saturday, October 30, 2010 marked my first ever Georgia/Florida game as a student of the University of Georgia.

And it was epic.

Thursday at noon we packed up the car and headed out to St. Simons. Apparently the UGA fans stay in St. Simons because real fans of Georgia stay in Georgia, not Florida, so we didn't stay in Jacksonville.

Friday is beach day. Everyone packs up coolers and dresses up (since the game is always on Halloween weekend) and heads out to the affectionately nicknamed Frat Beach. Five of my friends and I went as Carebears. I was the pink one with the rainbow stomach. I hate pink. But my roommates said I should be the rainbow because I love the gays. They're smart.



Naturally we dressed up in t-shirts and shorts. Other people took advantage of the well known mean girls rule: "Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

Which is fine. For some people. Nottttt so much for other people.



There should be an application process for people that want to bare that much skin. Complete with an interview.



Once we got to the actual game, we had the most annoying fans behind us that I am ashamed to say were UGA alum. I got spit on, spilled on, yelled at, and called a few choice words. Then I had coke spilled in my seat and was told that I shouldn't be sitting (during time outs) anyway, I should be standing and cheering for the Dawgs.

I was suddenly very angry with whoever wrote the chant, "Ain't nothin finer in the land than a drunk, obnoxious Georgia fan."

They were wrong. Sober, calm, yet excited and enthusiastic fans are probably better.



We lost the game, but it was the most exciting game I've ever been in the stands for, and my cake of a weekend already had plenty of icing so I wasn't too upset.

PLUS, I got to come back to the number one party school and, more importantly, one of the top college towns in the nation.

I count this weekend as a win.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Madder than a wet baby

Every commercial break during the reunion show of Teen Mom, I was reminded by the ever-so-wise Dr. Drew that teenage pregnancy is 100% preventable.

While I was in Cambodia I wrote my final article on family size and birth control. I learned that they get shots, take the pill, or use a patch.

In my roommates Sexual Development class this week they had a lecture from the health center lady that passed out condoms and reminded them to "Wrap Your HalloWeiner" this month.

This weekend, however, I discovered the greatest birth control of all time.

My cousin, her husband, and her three children came to visit my parents this weekend and I drove home to see them.

I've never been a huge fan of kids, but I always thought that I could handle them.

Now, as a preface, let me state that as far as kids go, these ones are amazing. Betsy and Jay were made to be parents and if it were up to me they would have seven more kids. The kids are polite and well mannered and not the annoying, bratty kids I dread having one day.

When Betsy and Jay went to an engagement party, however, it was up to me and my parents to bathe and put to bed the three kids. My mom and dad got the the 4 and 2 year old boys, and I was assigned to the almost year-old girl. How hard could it be?

So far she had been incredibly happy and easy to handle, minus her obsession with climbing the stairs. I was about to encounter how incredibly ignorant I am when it comes to understanding children.

First I realized that in order to put her in the bath I would have to take off her onesie...and her diaper. Please just be pee, please just be pee, I prayed. And alas, I had found favor with the Lord.

The water was just warm enough, but definitely not hot. If I were a baby, I would want this water. This baby, however, had a different idea.

As soon as I lowered the kid into the four inches of water, her mouth gaped open and the screaming began. Assuming I must have misjudged the water, I picked her out of the water. But now she was all wet. My immediate reaction to pull her towards me and "shhhhh" her and rock her were thwarted by the fact that she was dripping. So instead I held her over the bath tub, my arms completely outstretched, as I watched her scream and cry and snot, a look of sheer terror on my face.

There was a moment there when I sent her the mental message, which I'm positive she picked up on before me, that I had no idea what in the heck I was doing.

I tried to replace her in the water once, then twice. And then I gave up. Luckily Betsy wasn't the only experienced mom around, so I brought the baby into my parents bathroom where the boys were playing in the tub. I handed over Crying Child to Mother and she calmly took her from me, sat her in the water, washed her with a washcloth for about 20 seconds, and handed her back to me. I was prepared, holding my stance behind my mom, towel draped over my arms, ready to catch the kid.

Now, had I known that you were allowed to bathe the kid while she was screaming bloody murder, I probably could have handled it. Probably. Ok, maybe.

Next, I had to put a diaper back on her. WHY DO THEY MAKE THOSE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?! The back looks exactly like the front. My mom had withheld the information that there are little tabby things on the back that wrap around to the front. Probably could have figured that out too. Ok, ok. Maybe.

After bath time was milk time. Naturally the kid didn't want to drink her milk. But she did calm down, and I sat with her for almost an hour watching the UGA game. We chilled out, relaxed a bit, maybe dozed off.

Point being: If my kid doesn't pee, poop, snot, cry, whine, or move, I can handle it. But until they make kids like that, I would like to give a big shout out to my cousin for reminding me how young and naive I am, and how I should probably stay away from children for a good five to ten to fifteen years.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Profile Article for Class

Bob so kindly pointed out that I have only blogged once this month and considering I have to write for class, which is what's keeping me so busy, I can just copy and paste that onto here. I wrote this article about a friend of mine I met in my LGBT Spirituality class last semester. She's super intriguing and inspiring. This will have you occupied for a while.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meagan Buford had her voice taken away, so now she is giving a voice to the deaf. As a senior in high school, the now 22-year-old began dating a female member of her rugby team. As the news of her new relationship spread, she was not only rejected by her family but shunned by her church. Today her experience propels her to help others who feel lonely or rejected.

From seventh grade to graduation, Buford was at church every Sunday and Wednesday, attending every youth retreat and ski trip. “It was either Jesus or sports,” she said. Buford also mentored younger girls. The girls would ask if they could sit and talk with her and the answer was always, “Yes.” Buford heard stories from girls who cut themselves and had been sexually abused, stories the girls’ parents knew nothing about. These parents, however, were some of the first to cast stones at Buford when she came out of the closet.

“They said I couldn’t mentor their kids because I’m gay,” she said. Three of her leaders from YoungLife, a Christian organization, told her they thought it was wrong that she was gay, and she was stripped of her leadership position at her church. “I still had an understanding of who I was and what I believed,” she said.

High school friend Carly Wright, 22, said she wasn’t too surprised when she found out about Meagan’s girlfriend. “I always had a suspicion,” she said. Though few and far between, Buford was lucky to have friends like Wright to accept her. “I believe in equal rights,” Wright said. “Love knows no gender in my opinion.”

In high school, Buford wanted to enter a profession where she could help people; she wanted to do physical therapy or Christian counseling, and even drew up blue prints for a shelter for homeless teens. “I’m just somebody who loves people and loves to make people feel wanted,” she said.

Wright says people are the most important thing in Buford’s life. “Meagan is definitely a people person,” Wright said. “She is very caring and loving to those she is close to and those in her community.”

Buford’s girlfriend, Lindsey Neely, 22, recalls a time when she was preparing to read at a poetry slam in Milledgeville, Ga. but Meagan wouldn’t be able to make it due to a test the next morning. “In order to still make it that night, Meagan took the test early and surprised me by showing up at my apartment about an hour before the slam,” Neely said. “She is always doing things like that; surprising me with flowers or just being there for me when I need her.”

After she came out, however, not everyone wanted her help. The parents of girls she mentored were forward about not wanting Buford around their children anymore, and her family looked at her in a whole new light. “It’s like wearing a scarlet letter,” she said, strategically placing her fingers on her forehead. “A big ole’ G.” But this wasn’t the first encounter Buford had with loneliness.

As a child, Buford’s military family moved from state to state. In her second grade year, the family moved to Marysville, Wash., just north of Seattle. She would have been put into the accelerated program at her new school but there was no such thing. Instead, they put the lower level third graders with the upper level second graders.

Buford, who thought she was very cool for a second grader, and bragged about the retainer she had, the one with blue sparkles. Her classmates, however, thought differently. During free time, everyone played Oregon Trail on the computer. Everyone, that is, but Buford. No one would let her play with them and so at a very young age, she learned a very important lesson.

“I knew even then that it wasn’t right to treat someone like s--- because they’re different than you,” she said. Instead of playing with the other kids, Buford sought sanctuary in a bean bag chair in the corner of the room where she read the American Sign Language dictionary. “I didn’t have to worry about feeding my cattle,” she said, “I just fed my brain.” That was her first glance at a future working with the deaf community.

It’s difficult to picture this woman, described as upbeat and contagious by Wright, being ostracized and sitting alone. “She is not shy,” Neely said, “and she is able to make anyone feel comfortable and at home around her.”

“I vowed in second grade [to help the deaf] cause I never wanted anyone to feel as lonely as I felt,” Buford said. And that’s exactly what she has done. As a sophomore in college she began taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes. Four semesters later, she considers herself fluent enough to pass as deaf. She wanted to learn the language quickly, so she tried to fully immerse herself.

“It’s not like I can study abroad in a deaf country,” she said, so instead she did extra activities outside of class and watched YouTube videos to accelerate her learning.

Buford says she feels comfortable in the deaf community because of the many parallels that can be drawn between them and the gay community. She says many ASL translators are gay because they know what it’s like to be different.

“There are preconceived notions about the way deaf and gay people act,” Wright, who is also involved with ASL, said. “In reality, we are all the same. We all have struggles in life.”

Both groups are minorities made to feel ostracized by a society that doesn’t understand them. With only an estimated 8.8 million gay and an estimated 28.8 million deaf people in the United States, many deaf and gay people report feeling inadequate for society.

According to the Gallaudet University Archives, in 1883 it was proposed that two deaf people shouldn’t be able to marry because they would isolate themselves from hearing society, much like laws still stand to prevent marriage of two gay people in America. Apart from society as a whole, parents of gay or deaf children frequently think they can “fix” their child with certain training or therapy.

“We’re not broken...do you want your money back or something?” Buford asked. Her parents still don’t accept Buford’s sexuality, and after she brought Neely to a family function, her father asked her to leave her “friend” at home next time.

Her grandfather, who Buford considers the rock of the family, was not surprised when she came out to him. Buford’s tattooed military portrait of him on her right shoulder offers a friendly smile as she talks about him. After the news of her new girlfriend spread throughout the school and her brother outed her to her parents, Buford didn’t have a chance to come out directly to almost anyone except for her grandfather. After sitting him down and explaining everything to him, he simply responded, “I always knew you favored women.”

Torn between the gay community and the Christian community, Buford has come to a realization. “I think Christians stereotype gays as much as gays stereotype Christians,” she said.

Today, Buford identifies neither with Christian nor with lesbian. “If you identify as something, people like to put you in a box,” she said. She explained that if you say you’re a lesbian people think you must be “butch,” wear plaid and ride a Harley. If you say you’re Christian then you must be the kind of Bible-thumping person who forces The Word on people.

She does, however, feel as close as ever to her early love, the deaf community. Being ostracized at different parts of her life has given Meagan Buford the experience and strength to reach out to those less fortunate. “Feeling like I’m back in the bean bag is when I make the most progress,” she said.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Sun, sun, go away

It's Saturday in Athens. And, hey!, we actually won! AND I actually went to the game! Needless to say, it's no normal Saturday.

I have some game day advice for all the frequent visitors of Sanford Stadium. Aside from drinking lots of water and not forgetting your ticket, hear me out dawg fans: WEAR SUNSCREEN.

I can see my mother nodding in approval of my wisdom.

But sorry, Mother, this is not strictly for responsibility reasons of saving my skin and avoiding cancer. You should all wear sunscreen come Saturday afternoons to avoid terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tan lines.

Now normal tan lines around your arm from a t-shirt are almost unavoidable and much less embarrassing. The ones I'm referring to are what I'm left with after today's game.

1. The arm tan. My sleeveless dress helped me stay away from the farmer's tan, but I still managed an infinitely obvious line across my shoulder. It was only my left shoulder though so I only look half like a freak.

2. The sunglass tan. Go ahead and accept this one. With your lack of sunscreen you can either accept the sunglass tan and match your fellow classmates come Monday, or you can suffer through three hours of squinting into the sun that so kindly shines directly on the student section.

3. The chest tan. Beware of your neckline as you get dressed in your gameday sorostitute attire because, should you forego sunscreen, you will have to wear clothes with this exact same neck for a week to hide your new, semi-permanent neckline.

4. The necklace tan. Luckily I was smart enough to remove my large and in charge necklace before the game started because I am all too used to giving people awkward side-stares on the Monday after when they have the sunburnt outline of a chunky necklace that seemed like a good idea at the time.

5. The worst. And definitely most embarrassing and impossible to hide: The Georgia "G" tan line. That's right. Those adorable little face tattoos that you put on your cheek to show how spirited you are. I now have a pale oval on my cheek. There is no excuse for it's placement except for a "G" tattoo or falling asleep on the beach with only your thumb on the side of your face.


So, all-weather fans, beware of this bitch of a life source we call the sun. Next time I hope you will consider bringing along the SPF and if not, you have been warned.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Who's up for some nostalgia?

I had to practice descriptive writing in one of my classes the other day and we had to write about a kitchen. Any kitchen. So I wrote about my parents'/my childhood kitchen. Here goes.


The granite countertops are black swirled with yellow, a fancy stone that is the product of a homeowner who owns a granite business. He put them in himself, no sweat for the handyman. They’re durable, like the family that uses them, able to hold the weight of a person or resist the blade of a knife. They wrap around three sides of the kitchen and in the smack dab center, under the windows to the backyard, is the sink. Split in two, one side has an absurdly loud disposal and the other just a drain. There is a broken hot water nozzle that petered out after serving hundreds of cups of instant coffee. The two levels of cabinets are white, brighter white in spots that have been chipped and then painted over with a fresh coat. They make a very distinct sound when they are closed that can be recognized from any corner of the six bedroom house, the noise that has been known to announce breakfast. At the top of the cup cabinet are the glasses painted with butterflies and birds, the ones that are saved for company. In one corner, a worn out air vent lies pathetically, the swirled design of the cover pressed inward from the many winter mornings when the daughters would stand on it’s warmth while they ate breakfast before school. The walk-in pantry sits to the left of the new refrigerator along the wall without granite. The pantry smells like dog food and is filled with canned foods, dog treats and Easter baskets. This is where the vegetable oil and the Pam reside, useful knowledge if you get the urge to make brownies. If you walk into the pantry, be ready for the black lab and probably the neighbor’s Jack Russell to follow at your heels, eagerly awaiting a dropped treat. The two dogs growl and play with each other, their feet sliding on the hard wood floors. The floors are tired though, and have learned to expect the harsh daily use. They’ve been walked on by hundreds of people, tens of dogs, and have delighted in 15 years worth of after-dinner father-daughter waltzes. The kitchen is worn, but it feels like home.

Monday, September 27, 2010

GTL...minus the T. And skimpin on the L.

Manfriend and I have a bet going.

Here's some background:

When I went to Asia this summer I was still dealing with my reflux issues and, consequently, ate next to nothing for five weeks. I lost 8 pounds. Pretty awesome if I was trying to lose weight. Mostly, I was just trying not to get sick. Which didn't quite work.

But I digress.

When I got home from Asia, and, I'm happy to share, until this day, I felt much better. So for two weeks in June, beginning the moment I stepped back into 5585 Bannergate, I ate everything. No exaggeration, people. EVERYTHING.

I out-ate both my father and homeboy that night. So after I lost my 8 pounds in five weeks, I gained 15 in the next 3. Remember that time you thought I was exaggerating when I said I ate everything? Take it back.

Manfriend also reached his all-time high this summer and we made a group decision that we were both fat. And hence the bet was conceived.

Now we don't have to get into the details of said bet, all you need to know is that I'm at the gym at least four times a week. And if I didn't have my built-in elliptical TV or trusty iPod, I would still be entertained.

"Why?" you might ask. Because of the people that go to the gym. Let me describe them to you. And yes, I have seen all of these people with my own eyes.

The Skinny Mini: You work out way too much. Stop, because your friends are worried about you. But really. Stop.

The Hollywood Dreamer: You don't realize that while you can hear the music coming out of your headphones, everyone around you can't. Your high pitched exclamation of "PAPA-PAPARAZZI" does not go unnoticed. The people around you try to not laugh, even though they can hear you over their own music. Keep up the good work, rockstar.

The Screech: You're a man, and you're trying to bulk up. You weigh less than me. You have glasses and don't change the weight on the machines after I get off them and you get on. You wear a wife-beater to look like the other guys in the gym, but it is a poor, poor decision.

The Marathoner: When I come into the gym, you are on the treadmill. After my 30 minutes of elliptical, you remain on the treadmill. After my twenty minutes of weights and machines, you are still on the treadmill. As I stretch, I stare at your legs and wonder if they are real. Cause you are still on the treadmill. I would not be surprised if tomorrow, when I return, you are still on the treadmill.

The Awkward Dresser: You are wearing jeans. Or sweat pants. Or flip flops. Or a nice sweater. Your hair is down. You are most likely Asian. And I wonder why you don't look at the other 30 people in the gym and take some pointers.

The Jealousy-inciter: You have a KILLER body. You wear tight little spandex shorts and a top that leaves two inches of perfectly toned stomach exposed. Your thighs don't touch when you walk. You don't even need the skinny arm. You are what the rest of us are working towards.

The First-Timer: We've all been you, so no offense, just own it. You get on the elliptical only to be kicked off by the person that knew to sign up for it at the front desk. You give up after one set of free weights when you realize you're half as strong as you imagined. You don't change any settings on the weight machines and find yourself attempting to leg press 480 lbs.

The Freshman: You try your hardest to look cute. Your ponytail is awkwardly high on your head and it swishes as you run. You watch Hannah Montana on the treadmill because you and Miley are the same age and you feel like you grew up together. Your socks match your Nike Tempo shorts. Your iPod is pink.

The Ancient Gem: You are an old decrepit lady, and I have seen you multiple times at the gym. For pushin' 130, you are jacked. I am so darn proud of you. You go, girl.

And my most favorite of all,

The Situation: You think you look like him, or maybe you do. You are most likely ripped and wear tight shirts with the sleeves cut off so you can see your muscles bulging as you lift. You must max out every exercise you do everyday to prove your manliness. As you lay down ready to bench you close your eyes to prepare for the feat ahead. You make extremely awkward, somewhat suggestive noises as you lift. Occasionally you change it up and make "tssssss" noises as you let the weight go. Your face contorts in ways I never could have imagined possible. You, my friend, win the award for Most Entertaining.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

My Apologies.

Dear Blog,

I'm sorry. I have been cheating on you with school work and grad school applications. I would apologize but my future is a demanding harlot. To give the readers something to keep them occupied, how about we introduce www.lamebook.com. It's a compilation of all the strangest/funniest/most embarrassing things posted on Facebook. And we all know how much I love to make fun of "the social network." A personal favorite Facebook status: "Jesus had two dads and he turned out OK." I will try to return soon with something of more substance, but until then: enjoy.

Love, Cindy

Saturday, September 11, 2010

The American Way

Yesterday the UGA ROTC had a memorial for the people that died in the attacks on 9/11 nine years ago, and today at the USC v. UGA football game they held a memorial during the first half. I've always been a sucker for all things military and I can't help but shed a tear every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, which isn't always appropriate (i.e. MonsterJam 2010). But this video gets me in the first 20 seconds. Here's to the men and women serving our country:





And here's my favorite song from 2002. I may not be as much of a war hawk anymore but I still have Toby Keith's back on this one.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

UGAmateurs

On Monday the UGAtheists held "Stone a Heathen Day" at our public forum in the middle of campus, Tate Plaza. They put up posters with quotes from the Bible about when you should stone someone, had a boy stand in the middle of Tate Plaza holding a sign that said "Heathen! (Me)" with an arrow pointing to himself, and encouraged students passing through the plaza to throw "stones" (water balloons) at the heathen.



I'm not totally sure how I feel about this yet. There are tons of people that like to think of themselves as open to new cultures and ideas; who sympathetically act interested in the culture of a Buddhist classmate or pretend they aren't put off by a stranger's turban. Yet it is almost unspeakable in this Bible belt of ours to identify as an atheist.

Randall Bourquin, president of the UGAtheists, is extremely involved on campus. He was an orientation leader (an incredible honor), is in a fraternity and is known across campus. When I showed people that video I couldn't help but feel their attitudes change towards him. He states in this interview that it isn't easy being an atheist in a community such as UGA. And I'm sure it isn't. People's reactions when you simply say you aren't a Christian mix between turnt-up noses and pity that the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ hasn't "saved" you yet. Oh, but he will.

So I think we should face atheism with open minds and consider it just another religion. Or...antireligion. In my mind, I'm not going to discriminate against any other theological beliefs because there is absolutely no way to prove it. If there were, we'd all be on the same page. We won't know until we're dead and then what? We're dead. So let's treat eachother with a little respect.

That being said. I think the UGAtheists pretty much just made themselves look foolish. They weren't expressing their beliefs, they were instead putting down other religions' beliefs. They aimed towards Christianity but the quotes they used about stoning came from the Old Testament, hence Judaism. They obviously did their research. Plus, it's just an international rule that Leviticus is a bunch of bologna.

If the UGAtheists were trying to prove a point that they should be excepted as having just another system beliefs, they approached it the wrong way. Putting down Islam doesn't prove a point for Christianity, just as putting down Christianity/Judaism doesn't prove that we should all be atheists. I think it's safe to say that all religions have completely bewildering parts about them. Including atheism. They could have built themselves up by having pamphlets and a table describing their beliefs but instead they made a giant step backward and have probably lost any hope of being accepted at this Bible belt university.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Mother may I?

I love the Duggars. And any other quickly multiplying family that TLC has to offer. Yet at this time in my life, the only reason I want a kid is to give me something to blog about.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Snacks on the go

So it's back to school time and sitting through my classes has reminded me of something I meant to list out all last year.

Foods you shouldn't eat in class. All from personal experience.

Oranges. I decided to bring an orange to class one day and not only is it a messy fruit to peel, you get that shimmery film all over your hands which makes it dang near impossible to take any legible notes.

Chips. Could you choose a louder snack? A kid in one of my classes brought sun chips to our small class of 16 and did that thing where you try to open the bag slowly so it doesn't make a loud noise all at once but ends up just crinkling and crunching way longer than necessary. Just put the bag out of it's misery and open all at once.

Which leads us to pretzels. Like chips, it's possibly one of the loudest foods to eat. Plus you get crumbles all over yourself.

Trying to avoid crumbs? Maybe you'll eat an apple. On second thought, don't. It's a whole nother classification of loud foods. Instead of the crinkling of the bag, you get the loud slurping bites out of an apple. You'll probably forget to bring a napkin and end up drooling on yourself a little.

Last but not least, takeout. You'd think this one would be implied by the fact that it's an entire meal in a box, but I've seen it happen. You've got your loud styrofoam container with your plastic fork and it wouldn't be a big deal except that more than likely you will smell up the entire room. Which will either repulse your classmates or leave them thinking about lunch for the next 75 minutes.

When picking a snack for class, choose wisely.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Doggone dead.

An article published in the UGA Red and Black the other day gave a profile on a 23-year-old student who had just been arrested for the fourth time.

First off, that's not normal. After the first time you should give yourself a firm slap on the wrist. After the second time you should reconstruct your list of priorities. After the third time you should probably just lock yourself away.

So the last three offenses had to do with drunk driving, swerving, etc. Somewhat normal things. Her first offense, however, was for killing 7 puppies and leaving them in a box (with her address on it) behind a gas station.

WHO THE HELL KILLS PUPPIES!?

Like of all things people want to do to puppies (cuddle, kiss, walk, name) you chose to KILL them? Pretty sure that's a guaranteed ticket to hell. Pretty sure she'll be offered an executive position in hell.

Here's the article.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Break it down

In the midst of recruitment I have caught a cold and am in serious need of a dose of testosterone. Needlesstosay, I haven't had much time to post. That being said, I found this awesome video of the girl from Step Up and all the Missy Elliot videos dancing. Pretty sure this is what I looked like that time I decided to quit my state championship volleyball team and take up hip hop dance with middle schoolers.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

riDictionary.

Over the past few years I've accumulated words that I like and I use them as my own form of jargon. I've gotten lots of comments on my personal slang and I think it's about time I explain some of them.

Naturally, most of my words are ridiculous. So I'm gonna call this my:

riDictionary.


Fly (adj.)
1. Cool. Bring yourself back to the 90's for this one.
In a sentence: "Yo Coolio! I know your crew says your hair is whack but I think it looks fly!"



Grill (noun)
1. Space. Personal bubble, per se. Usually preceded by "all up in my".
In a sentence: "Girlfriend. Your breath smells rank and you are all up in my grill. Take a generous step backwards, por favor."


Homeboy (noun)
1. Boyfriend. I used this one for about 6 months before I admitted I was dating my current manfriend. Speaking of manfriend, it is interchangeable with homeboy in this situation. This word is for those of you that hate the "b-friend" word and wait an awkward amount of time before committing.
In a sentence: "Homeboy cornered me and made me DTR. Guess he's my b-b-b-b-boyfriend now."
2. A male that is annoying you. This can frequently be the homeboy from #1. Most likely is. Ok, like almost always.
In a sentence: "Homeboy. Has it occurred to you since you moved in a year ago to clean your George Foreman?" (That sentence recently passed across my lips at which point homeboy responded, "I don't clean my grill outside, I don't clean my grill inside." He also didn't clean his sheets for 8 months. We're working through some things.)



Hoodrat (noun)
1. Stems from 0:54 in this video. Usually used in reference to a troublemaker or someone that lives in the city, possibly steals cars or wears his pants low enough to make you want to shade Grandma's eyes.
In a sentence: "I took the wheel out of my trunk and put it on my front yard to make room in my car and when I was on my way back I saw some hoodrat walking down the road with it." (Also a true story, courtesy of homeboy who resides in the ATL.)


Junk (noun, sometimes plural.)
1. Privates. Interchangable with "girl parts" or "boyparts", also words in my riDictionary. I try to stay away from crude language and both the "P" and "V" words, so adopting these PG-friendly phrases helps me out.
In a sentence: "Yea, boyshort undies are cute and all but they get all up in my junk when I wear them with jeans."
2. See: Grill. This is often confusing but hopefully when used in context your fellow conversater will get what your sayin.
In a sentence: "I'm trying to concentrate but you're all up in my junk with your heavy breathing and lack of knowledge of personal bubbles."


Nastynasty (noun)
1. Grossness. Especially includes bodily fluids.
In a sentence: "Eventually, I want to have kids but I don't want to deal with all their nastynasty so I'm gonna bring them to my mom's for diaper changes, nose wipes, and spit ups."




Woo (noun)
1. Ya know when you try on pants and they're awkwardly long right in the crotch? So you have that extra inch of fabric hanging down in case of a sex change or something? Yea...that's a woo.
In a sentence: "I was gonna buy this cute pair of jeans but the woo was out of this world. I could've hoarded things in there."


Enjoy your new knowledge of my vocabulary. Wish me luck that words from the riDictionary are on the GRE.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Take your best shot

Last night the boyfriend and I watched Cheaters.

"The trashy show where 'detectives' creep on people before revealing themselves and then let the couple not-so-articulately yell at each other before putting their hands in front of the camera and storming off?" you ask? That's the one.

Homeboy only has 6 channels. Give us a break.

Anyways. The girlfriend was stalking her boyfriend who has been cheating on her for three months. At some point while she was chasing him through the parking lot of his karate studio (mental eyebrow raise) the police were called for a disturbance.

After Mr. Miyagi eventually surrendered to his furious girlfriend, she continued to fling expletives his way and eventually gave him a swift smack across the face.

At this point, the police intervened and arrested girlfriend on assault. Now while she was definitely obnoxious and probably a man in a former life judging by the looks of her, I'm on her side.

If you just found out your significant other has been lying/cheating for 3 months, you get one free shot. I, myself, would go for a knee to the groin but a slap in the face works, too. Unfortunately for homegirl, the police don't agree.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Be my boyfriend? Check yes or no

Facebook made a bold move when they decided to include "relationship status" in the standard user's profile.

While the "relationship status" isn't usually as controversial as the "religious views" or "political views," it can be just as annoyingly underhanded and hard to keep track of.

I've boiled down the most common options when facing the relationship status question. Make sure to throw yourself completely into the part or else you'll confuse all of your somewhat friends. Here are the choices:

1.Nothing. You're mysterious. Or so you think. Either you don't feel like having the people who've stalked you since high school meddling in your beezwax or you don't know what you are. You might be hiding a somewhat controversial relationship or you may just be too cool for Facebook, in which case you say you have better things to do than update your profile. Which we all know is a lie. You check Facebook everyday and purposefully don't update things so people will believe that you really are too mature for Facebook. Give it up, it's a generational addiction and you aren't foolin' anybody.

2. "Single." Make sure to put up statuses about how much you love your "girlies" and how you can't wait to sip merlot Thursday night at the Winery. You might be desperate, or you might just be proud that you're a strong woman who doesn't need a man. You go, girl.

3. "Married" or "Engaged" to your BFF. You've probably had this up for years and refuse to take it down because you're stubborn and/or still think it's cute to joke about being lesbian lovers. It's sort of like Number 1 but you get the satisfaction of confusing people for a split second.

4. On again, off again. Now this is why the News Feed was invented. Because every time the two of you break up or get back together, I get to read about it on my homepage. And then I get to breathe a sigh of relief that I'm not you. Now I'm sure the two of you love each other very much and just can't stand to be apart, but how you share it with the cyber world is borderline embarrassing. You should read about Number 1. Or even resort to Number 3. Cause Number 4 shouldn't be an option. Unless you do it for your stalkers' enjoyment. In that case, I'm enjoying it and by all means, continue.

5. "It's Complicated." Not to be confused with Number 4. If you are a Number 4, your relationship is probably complicated, but it takes a certain breed to admit that you have no idea where you stand in terms of significant other. The Number 5 has thrown his or her hands in the air and just plain given up. Your crazy somewhat-significant has said something like, "I don't want to ruin our great friendship," or "I just think we don't need a label right now." At which point you should say back, "You're crazy. Make up your damn mind." But usually you're too much of a limp noodle to say that.

6. The "I have a new boyfriend and I LOVE HIM!!!" Not only do you put that you're "In a relationship" the day you decide to call if official, but you sit together at his laptop and change your relationship statuses and profile pictures simultaneously. You giggle about how perfect you are for each other and update your status with how excited you are about your date this weekend or how PERRRRRRFECT your new man is. He then "likes" your status and comments something nauseating like "I love you so much baby" for all the world to see. Congrats, newly coupled, but get a room.

7. The "We're super proud of how long we've been together" couple. You do things like use Picnik to edit lovey-dovey pictures of the two of you kissing, usually in sepia with high contrast. Your status updates everyone on how many years/months/days you've been together and how wonderful it is to have someone to bring you chicken noodle soup and watch the Notebook with you when you're sick. If you're a guy, you probably haven't gotten any in way too long and your girlfriend makes you put up a picture of the two of you as your default. Facebook has now made the Number 7s happier by making it possible to put up your anniversary under your relationship status. Joy.


Now what if things just don't work out and the relationship ends? Have no fear. There are more options.

The somewhat sane people out there are...
1. Just sad. You wait a few days and then take down the relationship status anyway. Unfortunately, Facebook still tells everyone that you are "no longer listed as in a relationship with" him. You let word spread about the breakup and pretend to ignore the wall posts saying, "What happened?" or "????" That's just unfortunate.

More fun, though, are those of you who are...
2. Bitter. You change your relationship status to "single" that night and continue to update your status with quotes from Christina Aguilera songs about being better than him anyway.

3. Not to be confused with the "I'm already over you." For the few weeks after the breakup you make sure to take pictures with ALL of your guy friends, possibly in compromising positions or kissing them on the cheek. All of these pictures are put up under an album named something like "Best Summer of my Life!!!" or "FREEDOM" which you know your ex will look through. Mainly because you stalk him like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat.

For both 2 and 3, you now have free time to kill that was previously spent with your significant other. You have time, energy and reason to become a Facebook queen and you let the world know that you are having like SOOOO MUCH FUNNN being single!!!

A defense mechanism? Maybe. But I bet it feels so good.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Karma

Remember Constance McMillan, the Mississippi girl who wasn't allowed to bring her girlfriend to the prom? I blogged about it when it happened and just came across this article. I'm glad things are working out for the girl. I'm sure she deserves a break.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Eight legged oracle takes soccer by storm

Paul the octopus has been a very important player in this year's FIFA World Cup.

Promoted from his usual job as oracle for just Germany's soccer team, Paul has made predictions on games between other countries in the final rounds of the World Cup.

The sightly sea creature has two clear boxes lowered into his tank before the match, one team's flag on the outside of each box. The boxes contain the same amount of food and whichever Paul decides to open and eat from is the team he picks to win.

Paul correctly predicted Germany's destiny in the first six matches of the World Cup and has chosen Germany to win today's match. He has maintained a perfect record in predicting World Cup matches.

Talk of death threats and dirty money have occurred but Paul is not fazed, probably because he is an octopus.

Wondering who will win the cup, the phrase "Only time will tell" has now become, "Only time and Paul the octopus will tell."

Rumors of a clothing line and record deal for Paul the octopus have surfaced but none can be confirmed.

Staying true to his training in romance languages, Paul has chosen Spain to win the cup.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Published!

While we were in Cambodia we all wrote one large article from start to finish. They were recently published in the Grady Journal.

HERE is the site for all of our articles and HERE is just mine.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Humble beginnings

I've recently decided to give Twitter a chance after a friend told me to quit updating my Facebook status and get a Twitter already.

So far I've learned that Lindsey Lohan and Kim Kardashian are friends and that people can update up to 1000 times a day. Neither of which I give a flying flapjack about. It probably doesn't help that I am not starstruck in the least.

So I'm not a fan yet, but I neither understand it nor care to be obsessed with it. I also don't have internet on my phone which puts me bounds behind other Twitteronians.

All negativity aside, one pretty cool dude you can subscribe to tells you awesome random facts. Yesterday he shared the first ever YouTube video.

Check it out.

Possibly not the most thrilling thing you've ever seen, but still kinda cool. This kid now probably has a bagillion dollars cause he helped start YouTube. And he likes elephants.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Skinny, sexy, and two-sixty

The skinny arm is spreading like wildfire and let me say, it looks good on almost everyone.



Almost.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Diamonds are a Facebook stalker's best friend

To stalk or not to stalk.

Never really a question.

After an old friend of mine got engaged when I didn't even know she was dating anyone, I realized I need to pick up my Facebook stalking. Actually, I stalk this girl a lot. She was a sneaky one.

But it got me to thinking.

Everyone Facebook stalks.

It has always been my personal custom to stalk people my age with babies or diamond rings. But then I realized, it's not just me. Doesn't everyone like to look at cheesy, lovey pictures of the newly engaged or the flip book photo album of your expanding belly?

If you have a baby, you know people are stalking you. You post the sonograms as your status and pretend your engagement fell before the conception. It's ok, times they are a changin.

Also, if you're still chasing your BA and recently engaged, people are definitely stalking you. You put up pictures of the ring and people judge. "Judge?!" you say, but you know they are. You think your ring is the best ring ever so you take pictures of it on the macro setting and tag it as yourself and the man of your premature engagement dreams. Everyone else looks at it and thinks what they'd change to make it their perfect ring.

The thing is, you're happy. Which is great. More power to you. I wish you the best new mom/wifey. I am no where close to ready for any of that serious adult stuff. But I will continue to stalk you.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Home, sweet home

I am home. Safe.

Aside from a few new gray hairs for my mother, pretty much everything on my trip went well, I learned a ton, had incredible life experiences, and I am now back in good old America.

There really is something about coming home that feels like a warm bed or peach cobbler. If those were feelings.

While I love traveling the world and soaking in new cultures, I think I'm too much of a homebody to ever spend more than a summer in a different country, much less move there indefinitely. More power to the people that can, but I like the coming-up-the-escalator feeling way too much. My two favorite boys every were there waiting with open arms and a steak dinner at home. And that's pretty special.

Hope everyone is well and enjoyed following me through Asia. Back to normal life posting!

Friday, June 11, 2010

My Thai

Where to begin.

I feel like a traveling fiend and we’ve only been on our own for 10 days.

The rest of Malaysia was great. Kuala Lumpur (KL, as the locals say it) was a lot of fun. I think mostly in part to our great location right above the Chinatown night market. We also went to this little pond where you can rent paddle boats and we got a great view of the skyline.



The story, however, lies in the 5 days of northern Thailand.

We got to Thailand on the morning of the 6th and spent the day walking for about 3 hours up and back down the street our hotel was on. It’s like walking through an Anthropologie store. Katie Sturniolo would be drooling. So naturally we spent way too much money on things that take up room we definitely don’t have. My 75 liter pack is now 20kg and we had to buy another bag as a carry on.

Another really cool thing I got- as we were walking down the night market street I spotted an INCREDIBLE dress in the window of a tailor’s shop. And it was white with black accents.

Every four years the brothel has a celebration of sorostitution called Red Rose Formal. It’s a weekend long formal, usually in Savannah, where every girl wears a white gown and the president wears a bright red one.

Let’s talk about white gowns in America. They’re called bridal gowns. And I, for one, am no bride. No time soon at least. I also don’t want to drop a ton of money on something I may only wear once.

So I went into the shop.

I asked about the dress and asked how much it was and he said it would be a bit small for me but he could make the same thing in all white for the equivalent of $80. So over the course of 4 visits to the tailor shop, I got my formal dress handmade by a Thai woman and it is gorgeous. How many people get to say they got their dress made for them in Thailand? Pretty cool.




Can you see how we bought everything in sight?

But alas, we get to the trek. In about March, Elizabeth and I decided to get onto GapAdventures.com and find some fun tour to do in Chiang Mai during our visit. We found it.

The first day we got picked up from the airport and stayed in the hotel they provided. The second day the “trekking” began.

Let me preface this by saying that the physical fitness level on this “tour” was a 2 out of 5 and included the words “light walking” in the description.

I’d like to see a level 5.

The first day we hiked for 3 hours. Not normal hiking. Machete-wielding, slide your way down hills, almost die on the way up a 400 meter vertical hill kinda hiking.

Naturally I fell on a pile of bamboo and cut up my leg. It had a bit of blood but our guide, Pon, ran into the forest to save the day. Luckily for us, he wasn’t running away, he was getting a leaf. A leaf, he said, that had antiseptic powers and would stop the bleeding. My mother’s cringing nurse face was in my mind as I let this guy rub a crumbled leaf over my cut but it actually felt like rubbing alcohol and, hey, all our remedies had to come from somewhere. Plus, I haven’t had to get my leg amputated so I’m guessing it was safe.

He had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve though. Pon carried a bottle of water, tobacco and salt mixed together to pour on the leeches that attached to our shoes. He also poured it into our shoes which was appreciated until the blisters ensued.

After our hike we got to the first village we were seeing. We thought we’d be seeing people with rings on their necks who were fully prepared to smile for tourists but we were wrong. The tour was much less of a cultural immersion and more of a three day hike.

We slept under mesquito nets on mats on the wooden floor in a hut. I laughed remembering the travel clinic nurse asking if we’d have air conditioning or screens on our windows. Windows? You mean the places where parts of the wall is missing? No, sorry, no screens.




Now APPARENTLY I’m not in the best of shape. Or I like ice cream too much. But day 3’s 5 hour hike didn’t suit me well. It could have been the fact that it was a 5 hour hike. Not sure why those even exist.

We came over the last hill into a middle-of-the-jungle elephant farm. There were just elephants wading in the stream and playing with each other everywhere. Seven in total.

Such a victory. We had made it.

We then had some awesome lunch prepared on the spot and got to ride the elephants for about an hour to the village we stayed at. Same sort of accommodation but we slept much more soundly that night (until the cocks crowed at 4am).







We played some fun, language-barrier-friendly games that night in which, if you lost, Pon would draw on your face with the soot from the bottom of a pan. I’m sure it’s a skin treatment somewhere.

The 4th day we got on a bamboo raft made by Pon and floated down a river for 5 hours. It was super relaxing and peaceful once we realized bamboo was buoyant.



Once we reached our bus we had a late lunch and headed back to town to stay at the hotel again the last night.

It was definitely nothing like I expected but it’s nice to push yourself sometimes. Looking back, I’m really glad I got through the hikes and got to meet the 4 wonderful Irish people we were on the trek with. We passed the time quickly and had a good time living the hilltribe life for a while.

The rest of the 10th we got to walk around Chiang Mai, our new favorite city, and see some temples with our trek group. It was nice living in an Anthropologie magazine.


Our new Irish family with a city view of Chiang Mai in the background.