Small Town, Big Heart

If you've never lived in a small town before, you're definitely missing out. After 4.5 months of small town living, I've narrowed down my observations to the following list:

Top 5 Reasons to Live in a Small Town

5. The cashier at the dollar store knows your name (and you know hers--hi, Lori!)


4. The florist's marquee says things like: "Pam! Come in and pick up your roses!"

3. Because the nearest civilization (raise the roof for Staunton!) is an hour away, you spend a lot of time making bread or sewing--unironically.


2. Your commute is three minutes, walking.

1. You receive a hearty and quaint welcome every time you return.


Jealous?

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How to Have a Very Colonial Thanksgiving

One of the perks of teaching at a small university is that everyone knows each other. So when the usual professor couldn't take a group of students on the Thanksgiving trip around colonial Virginia, the lovely travel study coordinator turned to us, the new-sans-children-newlywed professors: "Want to ditch your original Thanksgiving plans and host a ragtag group of misfits for a free trip to Williamsburg?" she said (in so many words). And that's how we found ourselves surrounded by turkeys and skinned hogs.

So how does one have a Very Colonial Thanksgiving you ask?

1: Watch a gorgeous sunset at Berkeley Plantation

2: Get locked in the stocks for an hour

3: Catch your turkey dinner

4: Gorge at an intense Thanksgiving dinner (note the eagle crest in the background)...

(Intense meaning that there was a butt load of ice sculptures and white-hat chefs)

Butcher a hog

Direct a military wearing a tri-cornered hat

Shatter the enemy's morale at Yorktown

Be adorable at Jamestown

Pretty easy, eh?

I know I've been absent on this blog for months so here's some things to look forward to: An adventure at the Cabbage Patch Kids hospital! Florida! Mothman Festival! And etc.

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It's About Time "OMG" Had An Anthem

Just when you thought pop music couldn't get any better, Usher had to go and make this:

2:08 will blow your mind. This is the stuff dreams are made of. Thanks, Usher.

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Dining with 'Coons? Only in Omaha...

We got a car full of folks together to see the sights and sounds of Omaha. Turns out much of the nation's college baseball fans felt the same way (thanks, NCAA World Series for the awesome traffic/parking/tailgaters!)

On the agenda: temple, zoo, then dining with raccoons. Yes, dining with raccoons. Come, watch the magic unfold:

Here is Stan, i.e. Kristan, my old roomie. She's the bomb dot com.

The Omaha Zoo is pretty off the chain. It has won loads of awards for things like its desert enclosure--and its amazingly well preserved cave paintings!
Pumba is much more hirsute in real life.
This kookaburra was not loving his glass cage. He flew into the window several times in an attempt to break free. Here, you can also see Warren's creepy special friend: Doppleganger.
Check out this bird's body/foot ratio. Totally unnatural.

This dude is pretty much my hero.
In the butterfly enclosure, Judy's six inch Waterfall of Imagination left much to the imagination.

The jungle dome had some super great spy moments. Stan, Cole, and large tropical bird on the jungle path--where they just let animals roam free!

Rope bridges = still a good idea
Family portrait with the lions, obvi.

Biggest regret of dropping of Girl Scouts: no shark tunnel sleepover.

Biggest grad school achievement: shaking hands with a fake octopus.
Biggest grad school fail: trying to perch a top a small giraffe statue. Sometimes dreams just don't come true.

On to Dining With Raccoons. A girl told me about this restaurant two years ago and it was almost as difficult to believe her as it was to actually witness it. But, true story, the Alpine Inn serves its trash to raccoons. And you can watch them eat while you eat a massive spread of fried chicken. It's just about as foul as you can imagine. But also, in the weirdest way, pretty freaking cool.

I call this image "Raccoon Boy."

Unfortunately, this was the only raccoon that dined with us. Afterwards, the feral cats moved in. They were pretty mangy.

Here is the treehouse in all its glory. Notice the bones piling up around it. Disgusting.
So, friends, Omaha is pretty freaky. But also awesome.

Fin.

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Married!

Thank you so, very much for all your love and support!

Very special thanks to Mrs. Megan Ruth Stay--our fabulous and gifted photographer/all around wicked cool woman! To see more of her work, click here! My sister posted a few more images on her delightful blog, The Meanest Mom.

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Freelance Whales

Oh, hello blog again! I'm sorry I dropped you like it was hot but here is my penance:



Nothing really seems all that noteworthy after watching this magic unfurl. Thanks to my roommate Emily!

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Bears.

I like them.

Before I explain that, though, I'll say that Warren and I spent a lovely weekend in Brooklyn with a dear friend and her man. We ice skated in Prospect Park, which pretty much looked like this:

But on ice. Lauren almost got ran over by a swarm of tweens that bore a striking resemblance to the crew on Roll Bounce. To my sister's horror, we consumed an obscene amount of hummus. But my most favorite part of the weekend happened when we started a discussion on bears. That man who built a bear suit out of steel, for instance, was a good topic. Literal Bearz I'm Jealous Of provided some guffaws. But then we found the most literally hilarious site ever. I present to you: maninbearsuit.com.

And scene.

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