Dear Weather Radar,

You are the bane of my existence. 

The ONE night a HUGE storm system barrels across the plains, headed straight for Chicago, you are "down for maintenance." For as much as I once loved you, I now curse you. How dare you deprive me the joy of monitoring cloud front progression or analyzing lightning activity?!? In my hour of need, you have abandoned me, Weather Radar. It's over between us.

Don't bother calling. Nothing you can do or say will make me forgive this grievous injury. I've moved on...to Brook's portable Weather Tracker. 

"Swinging" refrigerators

Today I witnessed an amazing feat of strength and strategy, the likes of which I have not seen since the 2010 Winter Olympics.

Two guys from Sears brought us a new fridge. 

Now, you might think that the previous two statements are unrelated, but in fact, they describe the same event. For not only did the two 20-somethings (Benny and Sergio) hand deliver our beautiful new refrigerator, but they managed to wrangle our gigantic old fridge out of the house and into the garage using nothing but brute strength and a couple of straps. 

How did they do it, you ask? Well, by "swinging."

Yes, that's the technical term... and yes, it did quickly digress into a snarky joke among the four of us. These guys proudly claimed to be "Professional Swingers."

So, basically, they intertwined two large straps, looped them under the fridge and over their shoulders, and then hoisted it off the ground. As if this wasn't hard enough, they proceeded to slide the massive machine through our narrow 1950's-sized door frames by alternately opening and closing the fridge doors as they adjusted the angle of the large metal box, squeezing it neatly through the doorway without a dent or a scratch. 

Even more impressive, they managed to do it without cussing at each other. 

But most impressive was their uncanny ability to manage all this while simultaneously flirting with us. 

AMAZING.

In other news, Nate the Plaster Man also spent the afternoon at our house, fixing and painting the kitchen ceiling. Due to all this excitement, yours truly was stuck babysitting all (two) of our valuable possessions while strange men came and went from our abode. Just to be clear, spending a Saturday trapped in my own home, ticking away at an endless, boring to-do list is not enough to keep me mentally occupied. So if you notice an unusual amount of activity, by myself, on certain social networking websites, it's because I was going flippin' stir-crazy. 

Please don't judge me. 

Am I the only one?

While visiting some good friends last week (in FLORIDA...more on that later), I found myself in strangely familiar conversational territory. While we were getting pedicures (Ritzy, right?), a familiar tune started playing through the salon's speakers. 

"Hey, who can name that tune?" I asked my friends, feeling certain that they'd recognize it straight away. Instead, all I got in response were dual blank stares, then furrowed eyebrows, followed by that curious, quizzical look I get sometimes when people are questioning my sanity.

"I don't know!" one said, and my jaw dropped.

"Seriously? It's the theme of Man From Snowy River!" I exclaimed, fully expecting her to smack her forehead and wonder how she could've forgotten. 

More quizzical looks ensued.

"You guys have seen that movie, right?" I asked into the cricket-chirping silence. 

Both shook their heads, glancing at each other and shrugging.

"What's it about?" one asked.

"Well, it's about this mountain cowboy whose dad dies and the other cowboys say he can't live up in the mountains anymore because he has to earn his status as a real man, and in the meantime he falls in love with the daughter of the rancher that he's working for, but then he tries to chase a herd of wild horses and loses a really expensive horse..."

About halfway through my summary I'm hit by a realization: This movie sounds REALLY DUMB. And I can tell by the looks on my friends faces that they think so too.

"...but, yeah. It's actually a pretty good movie, so, um...and the soundtrack is really good too...yeah, so..." I muttered, trailing off in embarrassment. 

The girls blinked at me, looked at each other, and I stared intently at the person painting my toenails, trying to come up with something clever or witty to change the subject.

"So, are we going to play Euchre again tonight? That was fun yesterday, huh?" I finally managed to squeak out, effectively ending the awkwardness. 

All of this got me to thinking, and my thinking turned into musing, and musing into blogging (naturally): Does anyone else have a few movies that they genuinely liked, but are ashamed to admit it? Now, I'm not referring to "Adult Movies" here (because we like to keep it PG-13 here on Kate's Little Adventures), but your typical guilty-pleasure flicks, or even just some obscure or older movies that it seems like nobody else in the world has seen. If a summary of the plot reminds you of a certain Kraft pasta product (it's the cheesiest), it belongs on the list.

For your reading pleasure, I'll post a few of my personal faves here in hopes that you folks will add to it via the comments part of this blog. Let's go interactive, people!

1. The Man from Snowy River -- 'nuff said

2. Mulan -- Disney's first real attempt at an empowered female lead character.

3. The Newsies -- a young Christian Bale singing and dancing? Yes please.

4. Twister -- I always wanted to be a storm chaser. So sue me.

5. Romancing the Stone -- a 1984 film starring Michael Douglas. So bad and so good.

So, I'm sure I could come up with more, and I will post them as I do, but feel free to add your own personal favorites. I promise no one will judge you... or at least if we do, we'll keep it to ourselves. :)

HEALTH

1. Drink plenty of water

2. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar


3. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants


4. Live with the 3 E’s — Energy, Enthusiasm and Empathy


5. Make time to pray and read your Bible daily


6. Play more games


7. Read more books than you did in 2009

8. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day


9. Sleep for 7 hours
a night

10. Take a 10-30 minutes walk daily. And while you walk, smile.

A study in contrasts:

Things I did last week Monday:

~woke up early

~crammed for a 10:15am final exam

~took a final exam

~ate lunch while studying for the second final exam of the day

~took another final exam

~ate dinner 

~studied for the other 6 exams I had to take that week

~laid in bed for hours, disturbingly awake, my brain buzzing with information

~finally fell asleep, exhausted and filled with dread for the coming days

Things I intend to do this week Monday:

~sleep in late

~go for a run

~eat a leisurely breakfast

~go to the library and pick out a few good novels 

~meet up with friends for lunch

~wander around Target in search of some new flip flops

~cook dinner for my parents

~attend my little sister's choir concert

~read my new library book until my eyes won't stay open any more

~drift off to sleep with a smile on my face

P.S. Here is a picture of my new house. Yes, I realize it's pink. Yes, the neighbors probably all laugh at us behind our backs. Yes, I am completely smitten with it. And yes, these beautiful tulips popped up out of the earth all on their own, right next to the front steps. Lovely, aren't they? They even match. 

Heebie-Jeebies

Brook found this little guy's cousin in our trash can this evening. 

"Kaaaate!"

"Yeah, Brook?"

"There's a weird bug in the garbage can."

So I went over to have a look (along with Amanda, who happened to be visiting), and the creepy-crawly thing was clinging to the liner, flexing its spindly legs in waves as it tried to get out.

"What is it?" she asked, peering into the can as if it contained a severed human limb or something equally horrifying.

"It's a little alien." I said, examining it. "Or a centipede."

"Gross." she said, wiggling her shoulders in that strange way you do when you imagine something creepy scurrying up your back. 

"Stand back. I'll be the man of this household and get rid of it." I said boldly, grabbing a paper towel. But as soon as I approached the bucket to bravely dispose of the little sucker, Brook threw in a nausea-inducing comment.

"Good. Because I hate that crunching feeling of killing bugs."

I swallowed hard, imagining how all those legs would flail and snap between my fingers. Suddenly I was not so keen on my original plan. Especially when I got closer and the insect looked up at me with those beady little eyes. 

A chill shot up my spine, and I strategized an alternate plan of attack. Folding up the paper towel into a sturdy roll, I decided to flick it down into the bottom of the trash and simply bring the whole business outside to the bin. With Brook watching over my shoulder, I hesitantly moved to push the spindly bug off of its perch. But to my horror, instead of falling down, the creeper grabbed onto my paper-towel-flicker-thingy with several of its many legs.

I panicked. 

Screeching, I dropped the whole thing like it was on fire (thankfully, into the bag), and slammed the cover down, dancing away from the trash can with accompanying hoots and hollers of mixed surprise and disgust. This caused a very similar reaction in Brook, who shrieked just as loudly as I, recommencing her previous "get it off! get it off!" motion, plus a few hops away from the trash for good measure. 

After this moment of purely irrational behavior, we dissolved into hysterical laughter, and I moved back toward the garbage can to finish the job. Unfortunately, when I opened the lid I discovered that the multi-legged insect had begun to ascend the side once more. Knowing that I had to act quickly, I ripped the bag from the can, cinched up the opening, and sprinted out to the bin by our garage. I hurled the whole mess, bug and all, down into the big green can, and turned to cheer my victory. 

It was at that moment that Brook's two dogs caught up with me. 

I didn't get totally taken down by the ecstatic canines, but that's only due to the unusually large amount of adrenaline coursing thru my bloodstream, giving me momentarily-heightened reflexes. Winne and Jackson attacked me with excitement for a good 60 seconds before I could convince them that the ordeal was over, and I'd conquered the vile bug. All the while, Brook laughed from the safety of the kitchen. 

Give me a moldy human head in a bucket any day. I can handle that. But creepy-crawly bugs with too many legs? No thanks.

I said this wouldn't happen.

But it did. 

I have been shamefully absent from this blog for far, FAR to long! 

My deepest apologies, friends and readers, who have not gotten their "Kate's Little Adventures" fix for the past few weeks. I know it must have been rough on you. It has not been smooth sailing on this end either, believe me.

Now that I have confessed my guilt, I shall entertain you with a brief update regarding my biggest news of late; my new living arrangements!

At this very moment I am seated at my desk in my new bedroom, which is in my new house, which is on my new street, which is, believe it or not, in my new neighborhood! (and the green grass grew all around, all around... Camp song reference. Sorry.) 

Yes, my room is a disaster of unpacked boxes and unwashed laundry. Yes, the main floor looks like an episode of "Hoarders" (Piles of rubbish intersected by little paths going from room to room). Yes, I will continue to ignore both issues until after finals next week. 

Honestly, I'm just happy to be HOME. After feeling displaced for months and months, my heart is full of joy every time I drive up to the little pink box that will be my residence for the next two years. You read that correctly. My house is PINK. I'll put up pictures after I clean up the rest of my life... after finals. Patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, here is a literary snapshot of why I love my new house:

This afternoon, while home for a quick lunch between classes, I sat outside in my HUGE backyard, basking in the Chicago sunshine and munching on some gluten-free toast smothered with almond butter. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and sighed, for what glory didst grace my ears but the sound of church-bells, tolling the hour. If that wasn't amazing enough, the heavenly peals continued on, playing the tunes to several familiar hymns, their tones ringing brightly thru the spring air. I was instantly transported back in time and space to a sunny courtyard in the Netherlands where the very same sounds floated thru the air from the high steeples of magnificent cathedrals. 

As if to add bass notes to this treble-symphony of bells and birds, the rumble of a passing train grew louder and louder, sounding its mournful wail and clacking in percussive waves across the tracks just a block from where I sat. 

"There's something mysterious and romantic about that sound." I thought as it faded into the distance. The bells ceased their chiming as well, leaving me alone with the birds and the sunshine once more, but the chorus of the afternoon kept playing in my head for many hours later. And I smiled, knowing that tomorrow afternoon I would get to hear that same symphony again. And again. And again. Because this is my backyard, at my house, on my street, in my neighborhood. 

God is good.