A-to-Z with D

The concept of home  has been keeping me up at night.  It seems simple enough. For many it's as easy as home is where the heart is  -- as in a physical location. The place they were raised; the place their family lives; the place they feel a deep sense of belonging; the place they plant their roots; the place their partner and/or kids are. But home isn't that easily defined for me, because my heart (and therefore, according to the saying, my home) is scattered across the world. Is home Kansas City? Whether I like it or not, I have deep roots in KC. Beyond the familiarity, it's where my sister and her partner live. It's where the love of my life is, and will be for no fewer than 16 more years. It's where my grandma is, where some aunts and uncles (blood or otherwise) are, where dear friends are, where a large community of love and support fostered over 34 years resides. The environment is not my vibe and I've said for years that I would never move back, but reg...

Another recent find from when I was convinced I was going to be the next Tyra Banks. --- 2-15-04 Today was the coolest day!  Well, I'll start out with yesterday... Dad and I went down to Bartle Hall in downtown KC to go to an audition. Mom couldn't go because she had to set up for the renewal of vows service, but that's a different story. So, we got there on time, but couldn't find out where we needed to be.  After finally getting directions from a fellow student (later known as Reah), we bought tickets to the world of wheels auto show, which was hosting the JRP Audition. We had to have the tickets to get upstairs, which stunk, cause they were $14! Oh well. So, we got up there, having no  clue where in the enormous place we should go. We walked around aimlessly for awhile and found some more JRP students who were just as lost. We all spread out and I found a JRP booth with no sponser person there. We figured this had to be it so we waited for about 20 min. At 11:30, M...

A while back I found my journal from Presidential Classroom - the week-long trip to DC that Honeywell sent me on in high school. It's nice to revisit these day-of writings for a few reasons. While I definitely have memories of this trip, they're admittedly fuzzy. Reading the raw thoughts of your teenage self is always entertaining. Yesterday I hung out with one of the people I wrote about 15 years ago. I wouldn't live in Scotland right now had Maria not peaked my interest during the week of March 2nd, 2008. Butterfly effects are nuts. --- DAY 1   Sunday 02 March, 2008 We got on the plane at 1:00 and I found that, despite our early ticket purchase, I was 4 rows from the back of the plane. The seats were leather and pretty comfortable, though, and there were only two seats on each side, leaving lots of personal space. Our on-board snack was two fresh-baked hot cookies (chocolate chip)...oh-so yummy. Our flight pulled in at 4:30, but our bus to the hotel couldn't come un...

as posted on CaringBridge TL;DR -- It hasn't been easy, but I'm doing very okay for now.  :) --- Turns out I chose the most inconvenient time to move abroad. It was a bucket list item for me and I'm enamored with Scotland, so I have no regrets. But I can't say I expected to have such a serious family emergency pop up and find the love of my life -- both back in the States -- within nine months of leaving. Life truly does sneak up on your when you least expect it. I struggled the most with my dad's news immediately upon finding out. It was Saturday, May 20th. I'd been out hiking with Kathryn and Maria in the morning, exploring the lush greenery of Blackford Hills in South Edinburgh. One of our topics of conversation was about cryptic, out-of-the-blue calls from our parents and how we're at the age where our minds immediately jump to, oh no, who's dead? I told them how, the night before, my dad had called near midnight - which was odd not only for the timi...

17 de Agosto 2022 Sitting in a bar in Barthhhhelona drinking a Coronarita and life is good. I left the States 13 days ago now and it has been.....an adjustment. I was warned about this early part, and it's logical to assume a trans-Atlantic move would come with its struggles. But I was arrogant enough to think I was special and better-prepared. Karma got me pretty good.  First of all, the physical move was exhausting. Drive to LAS > walk to gate > fly to MSP > walk to gate > fly to CDG > walk through customs > get luggage > walk luggage to taxi stand > ride to wrong hotel > ride to right hotel > walk luggage to room > walk luggage from room > ride to London Kings Cross > walk luggage to waiting area > walk luggage to furthest car on the platform > train to Edinburgh > walk luggage to Uber > ride to the flat > walk luggage upstairs. All with two 50lb bags (one with broken rollers), a 45lb backpack, and a 15lb cat in a carrier. Go...

The following was written months ago, between H and I, but wasn't posted because it wasn't perfect enough to share with the hypothetical masses.  Given the theme of the next post I intend to write I'm #laterposting this in all of its imperfect glory. Start: Today I caught up on a dear friend's blog.  I make sure to read every post he writes and had fallen woefully behind.  By ten posts to be exact.  Your definition of "productive" may be different than mine, but I considered that a worthwhile hour. Reading his blog made me think about my own.  Specifically about how I never write in it.  One of his posts explicitly listed the number of and titles for the topics he has queued up in his mind but hasn't put pen to paper on. I should mention that this guy is on post #351.  (Well, technically #350 since today's audit discovered he skipped #344.  What a slacker.)  The total number of my posts is a rounding error in his total, so I'm not sure...