Did the Fourth of July seem not at all like a holiday to anyone else? Except for the absurd amount of time I was given off from work, actual Independence Day itself went off like any other. NPH and I traveled back to the Chicago suburbs to visit his family and friends from home, watch fireworks over Lake Michigan, and attempt the Taste of Chicago (only to decide we could get food and much cheaper beer in air-conditioned facilities not surrounded by thousands of other sweaty bodies. Though I did get a plate of sweet potato fries as big as my face for only seven tickets.) I met and became best friends with his family dog AND made a surprisingly fantastic rhubarb pie to win the rest of their hearts; we’ll see if I’m the new favorite when we go back in August for LOLLAPALOOZA!! Upon our return to Iowa City, we watched Inglourious Basterds since I hadn’t seen it post-Germany, and it mostly made me sad to hear them speaking German (though happy because I could understand it?) That has been the most challenging part of this summer– oh God, she’s trying to get all deep here at the end– dealing with the I’m-an-adult-but-living-at-home thing. I have to actively remind myself that I’m no longer in high school and in fact have much more freedoms this time around. Also, I miss D-Bag a boatload, but that’s secondary to the constant inner turmoil I’m going through maturity-wise. I read an article today that said it costs a quarter of a million dollars to raise a child to the age of 18– do you know how much Bavarian beer that would buy in Munich over my lifetime? 1. A lot, 2. That segue to tie the whole post together really just did not work at all.

“She’s blogging!  She survived the night!”

Yes indeed, you may all carry on with your lives normally again– one night down, 141 to go (yep, I calculated that when I woke up.)  Thanks to my newest best friend NyQuil, I slept 13 hours and my throat feels much better.  And I suppose I’m genuinely glad to be home (so much food in the fridge!  So many TVs!  Someone else to clean the kitchen!)

This afternoon we have Chistmas 2 of 3, this time with my mom’s dad’s side of the family.  Speaking of, I’ve scoped out the present situation under our trees and there are some for me, though not dozens as there should be (there’s still four shopping days left, I’m not too concerned) but T-BONE has TAPED the bags shut.  Ahem.  If I were really desperate (and it’s only Sunday, so I’m not ruling this out later in the week) I could cut open the tape, peer inside, then re-do it with no one the wiser (I mean, my conscience would know, but I’ve gotten pretty good at shutting it up after 20 years of questionable morals.  <– A half-joke.  You should half-laugh.)

Speaking of presents, NPH loved his.  Mine never arrived.  The bastard assures me they’re on their way and that he’ll send them to me to take to Germany.  I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not devoting precious space in my luggage to three bottles of barbecue sauce.  Oh, and APPARENTLY my parents met each other long ago and were “friends” but my mom “didn’t like him like that” until she moved away and realized they were “actually in love with each other.”  Okay 1.) Barf.  2.) That was some heavy use by me of superfluous quotations around most of that story. 3.) Yes.  I understand this.  You the reader, Obama the president, Jerry the homeless guy in Iowa City ALL THINK Neil and I are either already dating or destined to be together or at some point in our lives be touching each other beyond the occasional drunk slapping I do of him when he makes fun of me for exchanging more than pleasantries with a kid who went to special ed in high school (if you do not already know this story, you don’t want to.  Might I just say for the record: HE WAS NOT “special.”  So academia might not be his strong suit.  BIG DEAL– he’s in college now.  Not a very rigorous one, but higher education nonetheless.)  I’ve completely lost my train of thought now… anyway, the point is: me + hot German man I’ve yet to meet = yes please  You may think I’m going over there to “learn German” because its required by “my major.”  HA.  Boy do I have you fooled.  This is really just a husband-finding mission.  NPH already knows he’ll be standing up between Kayla and Lauren in my bridal party in Vegas.  I think he’s quite excited for this, especially if I pick out bridesmaid dresses they’ll be able to wear on other occasions, for example, a mid-summer polo match.  Ooh, I should get them in red– Neil really does look best in warm colors.

Where will I be one week from today??

HOME!!

Who’da thunk I could get so excited to return to a place I was once counting down the days, hours, minutes until I could leave?  Ahh, maturation.  I’m headed back to the mothership so my family & I can roll on down to KC for my cousin’s wedding, something I’m oddly really excited for.  Perhaps it’s because of the BARBECUE REHEARSAL DINNER, you read that right: Bar.Be.Cue.  I might try to sneak the bestie down as well so we can have a taste-off (pretty much our only marketable skill is our combined extensive knowledge of a wide assortment of BBQ sauces– we’ll probably write a book.)  At my other cousin’s wedding I cried– wtf– so let’s hope there’s not a repeat performance, but something about weddings & graduations make me weepy?  Lame.

You should be insanely jealous of how my apt smells right now because yellow cupcakes were just pulled outta the oven.  Holy yum sauce.  They’ll get some chocolate frosting later and then get taken to another friend’s 21st birthday party (this is supposed to be like a classy ladies-only get together… weird) and I was commissioned for the cake. 

Someone take me to a movie.  I do not want to see Where the Wild Things Are.  Unlike apparently the rest of the world, I was not a large fan of the book growing up.  All I remember of it was its hellacious length.  If they made If you Give a Mouse a Cookie into a movie, now THERE’S some great cinema.