Does this train stop at cliches and expectations?

I turned 29 in June this year.  I am unmarried, childless and as of 11:06pm tonight, have no prospects to fill those spaces on my bingo card of life.  This is fine by me.  It is apparently not fine by family members, friends and loving acquaintances at work that mean well but I really want to tell them to take a flying leap.  There is a path in life that I need to be taking and I'm a few steps behind already, at least so they tell me.

When I get asked if I'm seeing anyone and I respond with no I usually hear 'well that doesn't make sense, you're such a great girl'.  Why does being a great girl have to equate to being with someone? Why can't I just be great on my own?  It makes me question if I am doing something wrong by not being tied down already with a kid on my hip.  When people prod me with questions about my future, it makes me wonder if somewhere along the way I screwed up and missed the turn that takes me to wedded bliss and children before I'm 30.  What happens if I decide not to get married or have kids, does that make me a failure? Hell to the no.

I have opted to take the path where I made some highly questionable decisions in college, traveled to some pretty spectacular places, and developed a career in an industry I love.  That's not to say that my married friends did not have the same experience, I know for a fact that many of them have some great stories to tell their kids (mostly because I was there to witness them).  I feel sometimes like there is pressure on me to fit into the "normal" path of life.  Just like in the board game, you're supposed to go to college, get a career, get married, buy a house and then have kids.  What if I don't want to do that? What if I want to live in Belize for a year and live off the land? What if I want to spend all my money on flying, just for a hobby?  I don't have to follow the path that everyone else does, and that's fine with me.

I am proud of myself for waiting to make sure I marry the right guy and not just someone who will fill this void that society says I should have.  My life is rich, I don't have time to worry about a void, I'm too busy loving what I have. Asking me when I'm going to settle down is not funny, its just mean because to me it says you don't find my progression through life to be correct.  And that makes you wrong.

Life is simply filled with delicious ambiguity and excitement.  I don't think I will ever stop making questionable decisions (although they are a lot more tame these days), traveling to spectacular places and working in an industry that I love.  Maybe later down the road I will just do it with my husband and kids.

Just not now, so stop asking.

Aviation: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Last night I went to a going away party for one of my coworkers, he is transferring to our Boise operations to fly with them.  All of the pilots were in a circle talking and it turns out that 3 of them have known each other since college.  They have been flying together and getting in trouble for over 20 years and now the wolfpack is breaking up(geographically speaking).  That got me thinking, how many other connections do we have in our department?

6 of us have graduated from the UNO aviation program, 3 from UNK, 2 from UND and a 1 from Embry-Riddle.  We have been on college Flight Teams, gone to small towns in the Midwest for lunch so we could build our flight hours, and stayed up all night trying to get projects done in time.   4 of the guys flew together for a regional airline and don't get me started on how many mutual friends we have just in aviation alone. Every person that gets hired in our department is recommended from someone in the department, someone that has flown with them or went to school with them.  Trust me, you don't want to hire a pilot that no one knows - how do you know how they handle the plane?  A resume won't give you any clue.

It is a small industry, but an important one (ok I may be a little biased on that statement).  We develop this bond of camaraderie and loyalty to each other because you have to trust the people you work with. There is also the danger factor: we knowingly choose a career that can be considered dangerous to some, but there is literally no where else we'd rather be.  We don't get to make mistakes, mistakes cause accidents.  Whether its the dispatcher, mechanic, or pilot - we have to be 100% every day.  Who has time to hold grudges and make enemies with that kind of pressure? That's why we are this beautiful dysfunctional family - it doesn't make sense, but it doesn't have to.

Perspective

Lately I have found myself trying to change my outlook on certain parts of my life in an attempt to be more positive.  It is a lot easier to be a Mr. Grumpy Gills than it is to be Little Miss Sunshine, but I've found that easy doesn't equate to happy.  Below are a few recent scenarios and how the smallest change of your perspective can make the smallest thing turn into the greatest.

"Ugh I have to wake up at 7am on a Saturday, what a waste of a weekend"

One of my guilty pleasures in life is sleeping in until 9am on the weekends, I feel so free. This last Saturday though I had to wake up early for an event I signed up for.  Sure, it would be easy to come up with a half assed excuse, but why not just change your perspective about it?

Turns out, I was waking up to participate in a Donate Life walk with my friend Terri and her family.  Terri lost her brother tragically when I was a senior in high school and his organs were donated to those who needed them.  They remember him by participating in this walk and supporting a great organization that helps pay it forward with the gift of life.  The Shafers basically raised me in high school and college and Im fairly certain I left an imprint of my body on their couch with all the sleepovers I had there.  Was I really going to skip out on this event so I could get two more hours of sleep?? HECK NO.  I went and it was amazing, Im so glad I was able to participate.

"Another bachelorette party, this is going to be lame"

I will be the first to admit, I am not a fan of bachelorette parties.  Let me rephrase so I dont sound like a bitch: I hate CLICHE bachelorette parties (cue penis straws and wearing thongs outside your pants because its funny!).  I was invited to one on Saturday and temptation was behind me all day trying to get me to cancel and spend the night on the couch with a bottle or Roscato and the first season of the Golden Girls.  Looks like its time to change my perspective again...

The party was for my friend Margaret, who is getting married in Vegas around Christmas.  Her friend Amanda planned the party and went to a lot of work to get everything ordered and reserved for the big night.  Lucky for women all over the world, Margaret is not into the penis decor or going to a gay club to dance until there are blisters on your feet.  Instead we had pizza and went to a karaoke bar.  I can honestly say it was one of the better bachelorette parties I have ever been to before.  It was laid back, but still decorated and fun.  There were beers to be drank and shots to be taken and more importantly, songs to be sung.  Im glad I went so I could help Margaret celebrate a huge milestone in her life and that I was able to catch up with some pretty cool chicks.

"I have to clean my room, uuuuuuuugh"

Cleaning is not fun, not sure I know many people who disagree with that.  Its so much easier to let dust settle and windows get smudged, but deep down it eats away at your tiny heart.  Laying in bed watching youtube clips of the latest tough mudder race is WAY better than folding and putting away my clothes right?  Ok fine, time to change my perspective.

I cleaned part of my room the other day and ended up finding some pictures of my mom that I had tucked away the last time I was in a hurry to clean everything up.  It brought back great memories and I had to remind myself that if I hadnt decided to clean I may not have found those pictures.  Plus there was a small layer or fur growing on my carpet from weeks of neglect, I really need to get better at that.

So there you have it: change your mind, change your attitude.  To apply our lesson today, one might say Im not ending this blog entry, but rather taking a break until a new idea pops into my head.

Mom is just another word for best friend.

Editor's Note: I started writing this the day my mother passed away, but could never finish it until now. A lot of tears have been shed over the course of writing this piece, but it needed to be done so the world would know what an unbelievably beautiful woman she was.  I love you mom. 

November 27th started as normal as any Tuesday could: went to work, answered some phone calls and grabbed some lunch with my coworkers.  We were sitting there at the dining table when my brother Jack called my cell phone.  I thought he was just calling to tell me about his new braces, but my sister was on the other end and she sounded distressed.

"Kailey, you need to come home now. Its Mom"

My heart sank.  I had that wave of panic that comes over you when the teacher calls on you and you've been on Facebook the whole time and don't know what she just said.  My boss could see the confusion in my eyes so he immediately got up and said he would drive me home.  On the ride home I didn't know if I should cry or pray or just sit there and not think about it.  I figured she probably just had an asthma attack and was being rushed to the ER to make sure she got back to breathing normal.  No big deal, we have gone through this before.  Something in my sister's voice told me that this was not the case, I just didn't want to believe it.

After a few more phone calls I was told to go to the Methodist ER to meet my sister.  Ok, I thought, it really was just an asthma attack.  Thank goodness.  Shannon met me outside and gave me a big hug and as we were walking in to the ER I casually asked, "So, how is she doing?".

"She didn't make it."

That is the exact moment that my entire world and everything I believed fell apart.  For those of you who have lost a family member, especially a parent or child, you know this sinking feeling and all you can do is cry.  I dropped to my knees and screamed "Oh God why?!" over and over in the ER hallway. I'm sure these doctors and nurses have seen their fair share of sorrow every day, but I decided to spare them and eventually got up to meet the rest of my family in a private room.  It was there that I found out my youngest brother Jack was the one who found her in her bedroom.  He had come home to show her his new braces and found her unconscious on her floor.  He called my dad right away and then immediately called 911 - words cannot express how proud I am that he thought of that on his own.  He is such a great kid.  After awhile  of sitting there and crying I asked the uncomfortable question, "What now?".  Dad wasn't sure, but he knew that we didn't need to be there anymore.  We headed home and began what would be a week long ordeal of friends, family, cards, hugs and food to feed an army.

My mother's funeral was packed with friends and family.  When I got up to speak at her wake I was blown away by the number of people who had shown up from all over the country to pay their respects.  She touched so many people both directly and indirectly over the course of her lifetime, I'm sure those who were there was only a small fraction.  I received so many cards from people that simply said, "I didn't know your mother, but if you are any reflection of her I'm sure she was a great lady."  I'm only great because my mom and dad raised me that way, so they get all the credit for that one.  The memories that people have shared with us over the past month have been a beautiful reminder that she isn't really gone so long as people keep those memories alive.  Please don't ever stop sharing those with us, those memories are what give us strength. 

People ask how I'm holding up and how my family is doing.  We are doing about as well as expected I suppose.  I stay strong because I need to for my siblings and dad.  Sometimes I find myself tearing up at a song or a memory, but that's because we had so many memories and now that's all they will ever be.  One night I went over to try and find an apron she wanted to give my cousin Olivia.  I couldn't find it anywhere and I realized that I could no longer run into her room and ask where she put it - I went home and cried the rest of the night.   I have all of her voice mails saved on my phone and sometimes I will play them just to hear her say "I love you Kailey Doll, call me back".  It's funny how something that at the time was so insignificant is now the one thing that keeps her close to me.  

I miss her cinnamon rolls.  I miss her leaving her coffee mug in the microwave.  I miss the month long celebration of her birthday that always started the day after mine.  I miss sitting on the over sized chair in her room and just talking about the day and watching TV Land.  I miss the hair bows she made us, even when I was older she would make me one.  I miss her searching everywhere for her glasses only to realize she hung them on her shirt collar.  I miss clipping coupons and saving Pet Prints from Hy-Vee for her.  I miss her braiding my hair before sporting events.  I miss her 3rd of July party and how excited she got to have everyone over.  I miss her saying "I'm going to go put my feet up" or "Be a good googie".  I miss the treasure hunts she would put on for our birthday parties.  I miss the pillow she carried around with her so she could see over her dashboard.  I miss her conversations with the animals.  I miss the poems she left in my lunches.  I miss going over to see her when I was sick because she always made me feel better.  I miss the songs she would sing just because.  I miss her listening to music while cooking. I miss her goofy stories that never seemed to have a point but she was so excited to tell them that I didn't have the heart to stop her.  Most of all I miss the simple "I love you Kailey Doll" I would get every time I left their house.  

I love you too, Mom.  To the moon and back. 

2012 Went Down in Flames

Ah, New Years Eve.  A time for people to make resolutions and reflect on a year gone by.  Or, if you are one of my friends, you drink until you can't feel feelings while a guy named Mel drives you around Omaha.  Our story starts one week ago today...

At Happy Hour (paraphrasing everything)
Joanne: "Seriously, what are we going to do for New Years Eve?"
Sarah: "No clue bro, we were going to do Power & Lights but I don't want to get stuck driving and babysitting Pete and Z"
Kailey: "I suspect my New Years will be spent on my couch in sweatpants with a glass of wine"
Joanne: "I have another party I could go to, but I like the sweatpants idea"

So that should be the end of the story, right? Wrong.  Given the fact that is was still the holiday season, Sarah and I were anything but busy at work.  Our conversations ranged from serious to straight up ridiculous, but the one below is really what started our journey towards epic New Years Eve status.

Fast forward through the conversation about sneezing out of her mouth and figuring out what we are going to do with our lives and Boom- we got a bus.

Next stop was inviting people to ensure we could fill it up with 23 people.  I was a little nervous since we were less than a week away and people probably already made plans.  I constructed a Facebook invite and started selecting people to invite.  I sent out the first batch of invites and while I was in the middle of sending out round two, the bus filled up.  Wait, what?!  My friends also wait until the last minute to plan things, that's fantastic! Now all I need to do is get supplies for said bus.  My shopping list went like this:

- wristbands

-beer

-champagne

-boat horn

- glow sticks

Once the food was made and the drinks were purchased, it was time for the show to start.  Everyone received a complimentary "Jesus Loves Me" wristband and glow sticks on board, because both are good reminders that we are completely insane.

Getting cozy on Mel's bus.  

Ready for a night on the town.

With the help of Mel, we visited some of our favorite bars and I somehow managed to herd everyone on to the bus together so no one was left behind at each stop.  We were all having a great time until we decided to visit Kelcy at the Mai Tai.  You could actually see people's faces contort from "kind of drunk" to "WOOOO PARTY drunk" after finishing off one Mai Tai. 

WOOO Party!

We ended up at Grandpa's Basement (Or Old Mill Lounge if you want to call it by the correct name) where we rang in the New Year together.  My favorite moment of the night was when Margaret and company decided to start counting down from 10 about 5 minutes too early.  No one was paying attention so when she started counting down of course everyone joined in.  At zero they all celebrated, but realized they had been duped when the people in Times Square were just standing there and not celebrating with them on TV.  By the time anyone in the bar figured out what was going on though, the clock did strike midnight and everyone missed it.  I still laugh about that one.

The rest of the night gets a little fuzzy, but I do know that everyone made it home safely and we somehow all lived to talk about it the next day.  Of course, no friend event would be complete without a rendition of Zombie, which is appropriately how I felt the day after. 

Here is to 2013, I hope it lives up to the hype.

A Summer Recap for 2012

Now that it is past Labor Day, I suspect I have to come to terms with the fact that summer is officially over.  While I enjoy crockpot chili, wearing sweatpants that were clearly made for someone over 5'1, and Oktoberfest, I have to say that 2012 proved to be an excellent summer.

A few recaps, in no particular order:

1) My first international trip.  I finally leapt outside of my box and into the wonderful world of European culture, specifically Spanish culture.  My 13 years of Spanish came in handy and I had a great adventure with some pretty cool cats.

2) Tough Mudder x2.  I finished my 2nd Tough Mudder this year, a feat I did not think I would ever accomplish.  I still want to get better, so the training is going to get kicked up a notch this year but for now Im satisfied that I survived another year.

3) Every other race, obstacle course, fun run.  Dirty Girl, Color Run, Midnight Run, you name it - I signed up for it.  Definitely my busiest year when it came to running, and Im pretty darn proud of that.

4) Concerts galore.  Michael Bolton, Matisyahu, Black Keys, Weezer...this was a year of good music.  A special shout out to my friend Bam who made a lot of these concerts happen.

5) 3rd of July Party.  My parents have an annual 4th of July party every year (on the 3rd), but this year my mom had to be hospitalized.  She was so sad that my friends wouldnt have a place to go for the 3rd, but Henry and Jess stepped up and hosted an impromptu party at Henry's house.  It's moments like that when you realize what truly awesome friends you have.

6) Skydiving.  Thrill of a lifetime, decision was made about 3 days before actually doing it.  Last minute decisions always end up with the best outcomes.

7) 4th tattoo.  You all knew it was a matter of time before I got #4.

8) Middle of the night beach adventures.  I ended up doing this twice - once in Spain to watch the sun come up over the Meditterranean and once in San Diego with my cousin Sean.  Both were amazing and something I wish I could do more.

9) Appetizer dinners with my roommate.  Being two professional 20-somethings means we have officially been in the adult world for awhile now.  We can both cook spectacular meals, but sometimes we were both just so tired that we ended up eating Triscuits and hummus or string cheese for dinner.  Always with a glass of wine, always.

10) Traveling.  From San Diego to Spain to Atlanta to Denver and beyond.  I covered every corner of the US and then some, how lucky can a girl get?

Now if someone would just make me a mix tape of hot jams from this summer, I would be set.

Talavera de la Reina

After we dropped the car off in Madrid we took the bus over to Talavera de la Reina, which is where Sarah used to teach English.  It was a quick hour long bus ride, but it seemed like forever because we had just been in a car for 4 hours and and Metro for another 45 minutes.  Three modes of transportation in one day can be exhausting.

Our bus

We pulled into the bus station and my smart roommate booked us at the hotel that was connected to the station so there was very little walking required - I was so happy.  Our hotel was very modern, but in typical European fashion, had no privacy.

Damn twin beds!

You can see right through to the bedroom. 

We walked around a bit and stopped at an Italian restaurant for dinner, which was surprisingly good.  Once we were full of pasta and cream sauces, we decided to walk around the ferias (festival) so I could experience it.  There were rows of tents selling everything you could possibly want and then there were the food carts followed by the carnival rides and live music.  Everyone was trying to play their music louder than the tent next to them so it was this beautiful cacophony of bass and American pop music. 

We took these wine chupitos (shots) that came with a cookie stick in it - not my favorite, but Sarah and Jeff seemed to like them.  My favorite part was the hamster ball 'ride', which is intended for children.  Sarah somehow convinced them that we needed to try them out, so the carnie acquiesced to our request.  It was the best/worst thing I have ever done with my roommate.  It's impossible to stand in those things because they are floating on water, but we tried for 10 whole minutes to stand for longer than a second.  Finally we gave up and went back to exploring the ferias. 

Sarah's former coworker and her husband also met up with us for drinks and tapas.  They were very nice and I had a fun time listening to them all talk in Spanish.  I can understand most everything being said, but I can't speak very well in Spanish.  My three favorite phrases on the trip were "Quiero un cafe con leche" "Donde vives?" (good for conversations with cabbies) and "Ortra cerveza, por favor".  If you learn those three phrases you can get anywhere.

Benidorm

My travel compadres

Oh Benidorm, you sly minx.  From watching all the travel videos and reading websites about you, I thought you would be a nice oceanside retreat.  What I learned is that you are place where Brits go to drop off their dignity and have no intention of ever picking it back up again.  It is like the British version of Vegas but much, much trashier.  Don't get me wrong, it was really fun for 2 nights but 3 nights is way too much.

Just having a rough go at life.

We arrived at 'the strip' to have some drinks with our friends that were there from the UK.  This is a hotspot for bachelor and bachelorette parties (or Stag Do & Hen parties as they call it in the UK).  They don't take these parties lightly, either.  This is no feather boa and lollipop bouquet party like we see in Nebraska.  This was a professionally made shirt, everyone in a costume kind of party.  It was like Halloween every night that we were there, except everyone in a party would be wearing the same thing. 

Hey, why not?

During the day I spent my time at the pool or the Mediterranean, which made me not completely hate the town.

My home away from home for a few days. 

On our last night, I decided to make the best of it and we went down to the beach to watch the sun come up.  We played music from my phone and just talked about everything, it was great.  While we were laying there, Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" came on - if ever there was a perfect moment for that song, this was it.  I ended up being the only one to see the sun come up and I spent it dancing around in the ocean and trying to take as many mental pictures as I could, knowing that this was the last time I would ever see something so beautiful in Benidorm.

This made it all worth it. 

A few other things to mention about the trip to Benidorm: 

1) Moving my bed out to the balcony was the best idea I ever had, minus all the bug bites I fell victim to.   We called it the Seaside Villa. 

2) If someone invites you to see the "Sticky Vicky" show, be warned that it is not a lady named Vicky eating maple syrup. It's much, much worse.  

3) The downside to the ocean was that there were about 3 stretches of stairs you had to take to get back to the hotel.  Spaniards love their stairs.

My Seaside Villa

Only a small portion of the stairs we had to take to get
back to our hotel from the beach. 

Time for a quick nap and a trip back to Madrid. Good thing I stayed up all night to watch the sun come up...

Madrid/Benidorm - Day 2

Well we survived the night, that's always a plus. We awoke and made our way out to find some breakfast.    Our rental wasn't available until 2pm so we had some time to kill before we needed to be back at the airport to pick it up.  Luckily it takes 4 people a really long time to get ready when you are sharing a small hostel.

View from our balcony at the hostel

Let's talk about this hostel, shall we?  Like I had mentioned previously, it was pretty nice as far as hostels are concerned.  Its about the size of a dorm room and had 2 sets of bunk beds and a twin bed in the middle so 5 people could sleep in there if you so choose.  This set up was their definition of a suite.  There was no air conditioning (standard) but luckily there was a breeze coming from the balcony, which is not typical for a hostel to have.  We had to share a bathroom with the entire floor, which had 2 showers, 2 sinks, and 1 toilet for about 7 rooms.  There weren't too many girls on our floor so we lucked out.  One girl from Japan stood next to Sarah in the morning and popped her zits in the mirror over the sink, it was just what I wanted to hear about before we went to breakfast.  You could eat breakfast at the hostel, but we wanted to explore a little more before we left (plus the Syrian boys in the room next to us kept yelling off their balcony in Arabic the night before so I was ok with leaving).


While we were getting ready, I heard some chanting coming from down the street.  We looked outside and there were some protesters coming our way.  They were protesting against the cuts to public education in several Spanish regions, and to defend education as the true path to liberty and justice. A peaceful protest, and as I'm typing this I realize this all happened the night before.  Oh well, too late now - let's just pretend it happened today.

Instead of being in school, these students were protesting. 

So we remember there is a place we had passed the night before that had Doner kebabs.  For those of you who have never had one, its a little piece of heaven on Earth and more commonly referred to as a gyro.  The ones in Spain do not have tzatziki sauce, but instead more of a toum sauce - its delish.  As we wondered down to the street we thought the delicious Doner kebabs were on, we found ourselves going deeper into Chinatown (every major city must have one).  As we were getting ready to turn around and backtrack, and small Spanish grandma came out and rushed us into a small cafe.  She said "This place has very good food and is cheap" in Spanish, so she was either related or was really a big fan of this cafe.  We ended up there and had one of the best breakfasts I had ever had.  The waiter, who I assume was the owner, brought us all coffee and water as we deliberated over what we wanted.  In Spain you typically order plates to share with everyone, but I was feeling particularly selfish and wanted my own.  We ordered a potato & aioli appetizer and then I ordered scrambled eggs with potatoes and chorizo mixed in, both major staples in a Spanish meal.  Everything was amazing and then he brought us each out a croquette, which are little fried balls of ham, beschamel cheese and potatoes. I'm drooling just thinking about them.

Once we were full and happy we made our trek back to the airport to pick up the rental car.  I must say, the Metro in Madrid is one of the cleanest modes of public transportation I have ever been on.  There was graffiti everywhere but I will take that over the dog sized rats that run around in New York. We finally arrived at the airport (mind you, I had to schlep my over sized bag through the streets again - I need to learn the art of packing) and grabbed our rental car.  It was a manual so I got out of having to drive, so I made a comfy home in the back seat full of snacks and trashy magazines.  As we were pulling out, it became apparent that Jeff did not know how to put the car in reverse.  He tried everything and finally resorted to Fred Flintstoning it and trying to push it out with his foot, while still sitting behind the wheel.  When that wasn't working so well, Sarah got out and started pushing the car.  I'm fairly certain the Spaniards thought we were nuts.  We finally figured out that you have to pull UP to reverse instead of push DOWN....which is what we do in America. Ooops.

This is how Americans back out a European car. 

Anyway fast forward a few too many hours and we finally arrived in Benidorm, Spain.  Below are a few pictures of the ride there...

We checked into our hotel and they had 4 individual twin beds for all of us...another staple of Spain.  The plus side was that we had a corner room so the balcony wrapped around both sides and we had some amazing views.

View from the North

View from the East

With views this spectacular, I was confident this was going to be the best part of the trip. Until we got to the bar...

Madrid - Day 1

As most of you know, my roommate Sarah and I recently set out on a week long adventure to Spain.  I have received requests for updates from the trip so I have decided to blog about each day in an effort make my friends/family feel like they were there with me - whether or not that is a good thing still remains unknown.

Day 1

Our day started as expected - last minute errands to Wal-Mart to pick up things we had forgotten and a trip to the bank to exchange our US dollars to the precarious Euro. Once we were sure everything we could possibly need was packed away, we headed to the airport to start our adventure.  We met up with Jeff, Sarah's cousin and faithful travel companion.  After a quick bite at The Hangar we made our way through security and eagerly waited the boarding call.

We flew to Newark on the less than spacious ERJ and were only an hour behind, which is a small miracle when flying into that awful airport.  We met up with Sarah's former roommate, Nicole, who was also joining us on the adventure.

Kailey & Sarah excited for the beer cart!

After a quick layover in Newark we were finally on the plane to Madrid!  Luckily, United has TV screens on every chair with a pretty good selection of movies to watch since you are basically held captive for 8.5 hours.  I watched the final Harry Potter Movie and The Vow, and in between I would take naps for a few hours.  Somehow my nose recognized when food was near so I conveniently woke up in time to snag a dinner, drink, and eventually a breakfast.

Madrid from 30,000 feet

When I woke up, I was in Spain! It was about 10am there and I was rearing to go explore the city.  We grabbed our bags and trekked through the airport to get on the Metro.  A fun fact about Madrid: its not a good place to bring a giant suitcase, especially when there are more stairs than escalators.  After a few line changes on the Metro, we made it to our hostel.  It was pretty nice, as far as hostels are concerned.  There were 5 beds in the small dorm size room, but there was a balcony and it was close to restaurants and the Plaza Mayor so it worked out.

View from the bottom bunk of the hostel.

We freshened up and set out to meet up with our friend Nutty and his wife - yes, that is a nickname but I have never once called him by his real name.  Anyway, they are from the UK and were on holiday in Madrid so we met them at their hotel so we could all grab a bite to eat.  Once thing I learned in Spain is that they love to feed you.  Every time we ordered a beer, they would bring out some tapas (appetizer) for free.  It varied from a plate of olives to a tuna spread on french bread.  It was all delicious except the one the hotel gave out - I think they just gave up on being creative:

Not my favorite tapas, but I still ate it.

The 6 of us ventured over to the Plaza Mayor for more drinks and tapas, which I thought was very pretty.  They had some concert stage set up, but we were not sure what it was for.  They were testing the sound system though by playing a compilation of popular songs as sung by a female lounge singer. My personal favorite was "Like A Virgin" by Madonna....it was much slower and a little sad at the same time.

We went to La Torre del Oro, or the Bullfighting Bar for my English speaking friends. It had pictures from previous bull fights, as well as stuffed heads of slain bulls.  After seeing the graphic pictures, Im fairly certain I would not be able to survive watching one without getting physically ill.

La Torre del Oro

The weather was beautiful so we sat out on the plaza and people watched.  There were a few street performers, but performers is a huge overstatement.  Basically they wanted money for dressing up in costume and sitting there.  The most worthless one I saw was a llama looking guy with a bell on his horns.  Every time someone would walk by he would snap his head and ring the bell in an attempt to get your attention.  That was the one downside of the Plaza was that EVERYONE was fighting for your attention.  The vendors, the street performers, the restaurant owners - it was a bit much.

Please don't touch me, Mr. Llama

Finally the effects of jetlag were setting in and I desperately needed a nap.  We all went back and napped so we would be ready to go for dinner.  The people of Spain typically have their dinner around 9pm, which worked well for us so we could get a nap in and not feel rushed.  We ended up back at the Plaza Mayor for dinner, but realized we were suffering the touristy prices so we went to search for something off the beaten path. Oh, remember that stage setup I had mentioned earlier?  Turns out, there was a full orchestra and opera singers who were performing that night, it was beautiful.

Sarah's former roommate when she lived in Spain, Emily, met us there after she was done teaching and pointed us in the right direction for a non-touristy tapas bar.  We had some potato & aioli concoction which was just amazing.  We also had a bocadillo that was bread, salmon, caramelized onions, and a spread that I cant remember - what I DO remember is that is was amazing.  I finally hit my second wall and had to go to bed - they walked me back to the hostel and then they all continued to explore the city.  I just can't hang with the big kids.

My home away from home the first day in Spain.

Nutty wondering how I'm still functioning. OR questioning our friendship, Im not sure.

Sarah and Vardy enjoying the Plaza Mayor. 

In God We Trust

This past weekend was my cousin Lauren's confirmation. For all of you non-Catholics out there, its a ceremony where she is microchipped by the Holy Spirit. Baptism is when you get accepted into the club, but Confirmation is when you pledge your allegiance and they hold you to that. Forever.

It is an intense process that involves Sunday classes, homework, Bible study, community service, and prayer memorization. The whole process takes about 2 years and in the end you are rewarded with oil on your head and money from your family who have also been microchipped. The reason I am bringing all of this up is because Lauren had asked me to be her sponsor. One who walks with her and guides her on the path of the righteous.

Quit laughing.

Fast forward to the big day - actually I should preface this whole story by saying that my great grandmother's name was Cecelia, so my aunt's confirmation name was Cecilia, MY confirmation name was Cecelia (and my aunt was my sponsor), and Lauren's confirmation name was....can you guess? CECELIA. Irish Catholics tend to stick with what they know. -

Anyway, so arrive at the church (St. Cecelia's Cathedral - coincidence? I think not) around 1:30pm so we can get her robe put on and get signed in. I give them her name and they give me instructions on what to do as a sponsor: Hand card to priest. Put right hand on confirmandi's shoulder. Walk back to pew. HOLD ON, let me grab a pencil and write this all down! I had to wonder which sponsor screwed up these basic instructions so bad that going forward they thought they had to act it out in order to gain comprehension. After I assertively nodded that I understood my role, we set out to find a seat in one of the pews.

St. Cecilia's is a beautiful Cathedral but unfortunately the pews were not made with comfort in mind. Creaky wood pews and kneelers that probably still had the same padding in them from the 70s. Oh well, I thought to myself, we will only be here for an hour -I can tough it out. Hindsight tells me that my thought process was nothing more than a lollipop dream. We had arrived so early that I decided it would be an appropriate time to check my Facebook. Apparently God had other plans because there was no wi-fi available, which rendered my phone useless. Crumbs! Well then, time to play my favorite game of "stare at people as they walk in to make them feel uncomfortable" (works every time). Finally 30 minutes had passed by and it was time to get the old show on the road.

The Archbishop was there, which little did I know meant the mass was automatically an extra hour long. Everything was sung instead of spoken (think Gregorian chanting) and the homily was borderline record breaking for how long it was. I am not trying to be disrespectful with this blog post, however traditional Catholic masses can be such a drag. Fast forward TWO HOURS later and we were finally finished. We took some pictures and then headed to my aunt's house for food and drinks in order to celebrate the newest Catholic in our family.

I think the traditional Catholic mass needs to add a little spice to it, but I know that's just wishful thinking. Surely I am not the only one who wonders why we attend church when it is just a bunch of people going through the motions? I need to find a church that makes me want to be there, not feel like I have to be there because its the "right thing to do". Perhaps make Church a wi-fi hot spot, that would attract new parishioners.

20 Random Facts about THIS GIRL!

Ok so I was going through facebook and trying to delete anything posted pre-professional career and I came across a note that I wrote back in 2009. Im sure it was one of those chain emails that everyone was filling out so I turned into a sheep and did the same.
Im saving this on my blog for posterity sake - who knows when I'm going to get fed up of deleting my past and just start fresh on FB.

SRules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you it's because I want to know more about you.
25. I think the best movie score is the opening theme to Boondock Saints. A close second is the Home Alone theme.

24. I try to email or call someone from my extended family at least once a week- I love staying in touch.

23. On the way to work I crank up the heat and dry my hair while Im driving...works every time.

22. Armageddon makes me cry every time.

21. I am deathly allergic to shellfish. I cant even touch the stuff without breaking out. The worst part? I acquired said allergy when I was 21 and before I used to eat seafood like it was going out of style.

20. A girl in grade school once told me I looked like Doogie Howser. She was a brat and I didnt like her because of it.

19. Speaking of grade school, my favorite lunch was chicken patty sandwiches.

18. I took 13 years of Spanish and can barely speak it, but I understand 80% of all conversations.
17. There is a town called Dwyer Hill in Ontario named after my family.

16. I apparently enjoy working at the most random places ever - Irish gift shop, pharmacy, grocery store, research assistant for a professor studying beetles, hockey team, children's fitness center, airport marketing/customer service, and finally insurance.....I need to just chill.

15. Everyone always asks me why Tiny Dancer is my favorite song. Its hard to pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with the song, but I remember when I was younger the song was playing in my mom's Bronco when we were driving to my aunt house and my mom was singing along to it and it always just stuck with me.

14. If given the option, I could eat mashed potatoes every day.

13. My family and really close friends call me Kailey Doll. I like it.

12. I have the ability to impersonate people's accents or mannerisms. I dont know why, I just do.
11. Me and grandma watch Walker Texas Ranger together almost every day at 7pm - we watch to see if he will get defeated, but he never does. That, and she thinks he is a hunk.

10. I have paid over $1,000 in speeding tickets.

9. I found something I wrote in 8th grade that said in 10 years I would have graduated from Notre Dame with a degree in Marine Biology, been an Olympic diver, and living in Seattle with my husband and two kids...oh, and I also said I would be 7'2. A girl can dream.

8. Getting my pilot's license was the coolest thing Ive ever done.

7. I am a Red Sox fan. I am fully prepared with reasons why and respect that not everyone is a fan, but stop trying to tell me they are the new Yankees- I will punch you in the face.

6. Billy Joel/Elton John was the best concert Ive ever been to.

5. I want to live in a house/apartment thats on the water. I dont care if its a pond, lake, ocean, whatever- just make sure there is a view.

4. I love the Golden Girls. It is hilarious and my sister and I can spend the entire day texting quotes back to each other.

3. Speaking of my sister, we have more inside jokes or just overall dumb things that have happened to us that can throw us into uncontrollable fits of laughter for hours.

2. I have an obsession with Puma shoes....its sick.

1. I have strayed off the path more times than I can count, been kicked when I was down, told I couldnt do something, and cried over things that werent worth my tears. BUT i have also been given direction, helped back up, encouraged and had a shoulder to cry on. Its for those moments that I realize what wonderful people I have in my life and it makes me smile every time.

Words with Frenemies

Words with Friends, or Scrabble for those old enough to remember it is an actual board game, is ruining my life. I have become upset over the world "jovial", excited about the word "excrement" and seriously questioned how someone found out that "vrouw" is an actual word. Come on people.

*sidenote: Vrouw is a married woman in Dutch, learn something new every day.

Every time someone gets a new smartphone and asks their friends what apps they should buy, it never fails that someone will suggest Words with Friends. I admit I was hooked when I first downloaded it and was excited to see how many friends I could play against to show my word prowess.

I played a game with my friend Matt and it went well - a close match and some great words were used in the battle. I was a little disappointed that some of my words were only 3 and 4 letters, but that's what TW and DW scores are for, amiright?!

The next game I played was with Luke, a kid I worked with back in the day down at Countryside Village. I am not friends with this kid, the only interaction we have had in the past 5 years was this Scrabble game so I thought it would go quickly. Wrong. The first day it took me about 24 hours to respond to his move and I noticed I had messages left on the board from him:

"Ur turn."

"You there"

"OMG GO"

Woah woah woah compadre, I am so very sorry. Next time I will patiently wait by my phone for you to play another 4 point word, douche. At least give me something to work with that shows you at least passed 4th grade English. I played "jogger" for 40+ points and smiled at the thought of him throwing his phone across the room in anger. About 30 seconds later he came back with "JEUX".

JEUX? What the flying crap is a JEUX?

Considering he had been playing elementary words the entire time I knew there was no way he knew what that word meant. Being the fair player that I am, I politely asked him in the messages what that word meant. He responded, "Ha, crazy right?". Yes, indeed that is crazy my four eyed recluse, but it did not answer my question. Not being one to just let things die I asked him again, "Ive never even heard of that word, what does it mean?" There was no way he was getting out of answering my prodding question (and for my avid readers at home questioning why I didn't just Google it myself, I actually did - I just wanted him to answer out of sheer principle.) He finally responded "I dunno, I just put the words in a database and that's what it came back with, geez"

I knew I smelled a rat. That little punk was cheating and I intended to beat him. It then dawned on me that the only thought he was putting in to the game was entering the letters he had and having a machine jumble them up into a gold mine of points for him. Meanwhile I was at home shuffling my letters around and using my brain like a schmuck. So I did what any American would do, I cheated too.

I'm not proud of the fact that I cheated, but I am proud of the fact that I beat him. When it got down to the last few letters I used the "lets-see-if-these-2-letter-combos-will-actually-work-so-I-don't-have-to-resign" method, which worked pretty well. Needless to say I did not accept his next game request, and I am pretty much ignoring all my other requests to play that stupid game. I like crossword puzzles better, they don't require me to make up ridiculous letter combos and hope they hold up in the court of Scrabble.

Scrabble, I hate you.

An Open Letter to Potential Suitors...

I decided to write this letter to all potential suitors, which could be viewed as my criteria or as a warning - your choice. By no means do I want a guy who is perfect on paper, just someone who, even with all his imperfections, is perfect for me.

Dear Boy,

What do I want in a guy? Well, if you are reading this then you are just as curious as I am. I should let you know up front, I am complex and confusing but I think I am worth it. However, you get to be the judge of that and you will be able to formulate your own opinion after reading this letter.

You must love watching movies (often times they are animated), taking risks, kissing in cars, and decorating for the holidays. No specific weight, hair color, or political affiliation required but would prefer a warm spirited non racist who is taller than me. Cynics, Critics, Pessimists, and "fuddy duddies" need not apply. Any similarity in look, mind set, or fashion sense to Anderson Cooper, Hugh Jackman, Aladdin, or Justin Timberlake wholeheartedly welcomed. I am dubious of politicians, felons and lawyers but don't want to rule them out entirely. Must be tolerant of cracking knuckles, tears when I'm happy and sad, Jason Mraz, and sleeping in late when given the option. I appreciate a man who isn't afraid to sing in the car, that remembers the insignificant details, and hugs me like there is no tomorrow. A man in a suit is attractive, but a man with strong convictions on any subject is beyond sexy.

I have learned that making plans just gives God a reason to laugh at you. I pray before I go to bed, make a mean deviled egg, and play the piano when I am stressed out. I was picked on in grade school, a wallflower in high school, and the center of attention in college. If you can handle that, you can handle anything.

I have odd scars , love handles, and a preternatural love of autumn. I once saw an elderly couple holding hands at the grocery store, and it made me smile the rest of the day. I fidget for at least a half hour before I fall asleep, I get sick when I see someone bleeding from the mouth, and think Beauty & The Beast is one of the greatest films of all time. All I want are rabbit kisses in the morning, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches shaped like a heart, and to make you smile until it hurts.

That's it, that's all.

Kailey

Even Ugly Dolls Need Love

I have a penchant for being attracted to ugly things. Doesn't matter what it is, if it's ugly I will love it. The first real example is a dog I had named Murphy. He was, for lack of a better word, hideous. The shelter had found him on the side of a road and he was so matted that they had to completely take all his hair off. He had to wear sweaters in the summer so his poor doggy skin wouldn't get sunburnt and when you pet him it felt like you were petting a warm ballsac. Did I mention he farted? A lot.

Turns out grandma couldn't handle Murphy and one day while I was at work she dropped him off at the shelter. Imagine my surprise when I came home to find no ugly ballsac dog to greet me! That was the first time I was ever mad at my grandma.

I told you that story for two reasons: one, because I still miss that dog and this is part of the healing process and two, it confirms that I am bat shit crazy.

Fast forward a few years....

My new obsession is going to garage sales to see all the beautiful crap people are trying to make money off of. Nine times out of ten the stuff is beyond repair or just plain useless, but if you look hard enough you find a gem or two hiding in crap. My sister and I (along with her friend who was unaware of my craziness) decided to go to the Omaha Community Playhouse prop sale to see what fun stuff we could find. Most of it was junk, but there were some cool paintings and vintage furniture that would complement a crazy cat lady's house.

While we were walking through the aisles we found a shelf that was marked "Toys: 50 cents each" and on it were stuffed animals that looked like they came from the Island of Misfit Toys. We glossed over the items and were about to call it a day when I saw a head poking out of the pile with only monk like ring of hair on it. I immediately grabbed it out of the pile and what I saw when it emerged was beyond my wildest dreams. It was the creepiest doll I had ever seen.

The doll was dressed in a pink cloth that resembled a toga, and it was clear that he used to be a clown but hard times washed away all the joy. After the initial shock wore off, I collected my thoughts and immediately searched for two quarters.

"You're not actually going to buy that, are you?" my sister questioned.

"Well of course I'm going to buy it, look how creepy he is!" I exclaimed

"That doesn't mean you have to buy it"

"....well....yes it does?"

Little sisters just don't get it. I grabbed my new treasure and headed over to the cashier, but not before picking out a new wicker sleigh for my mom because Cheryl loooves wicker. I walked up and the elderly lady at the register asked what I was purchasing for the day. "One sleigh and two creepy dolls please!" I could hardly contain my excitement. I gave the lady my money and away I went with my treasures. Finally, my precious and I were together.

When I got back to work I immediately whipped him out and tried to come up with a name. The usual creepster names came to mind: Chester, Sid, Larry, and Vladimir, but nothing seemed to fit. Then it hit me: Felipe! Not only does it sound exotic, but it rhymes with creep. Felipe the Creep was born anew, so now it was time to show him off. The general reaction to Felipe was less than welcoming, and the more he stared at you the more you realized he was gazing into your soul. Naturally I had to capitalize on this and had him keep an eye on Cheryl at work.

I plan on advertising Felipe's services if you need a special guest for a birthday party or bar mitzvah, which will come in handy if you hate your kid. Until then, sleep with one eye open!

Black Moses in the Hizzy!

Last weekend my brother Kelly and I embarked on a journey to the mountains of Denver, Colorado. There were so many memories made on the trip, thanks to good music, great friends, and a lot of booze. Of all the new friends I met on this trip though, Dennis Booker stands above the crowd. No, I'm not talking about Dennis Booker from 21 Jump Street; Im talking about Dennis Booker, CEO of D&D Transportation.




In order to adequately sing the praises of Mr. Booker we need to travel back in time to Friday evening after the concert. We were all still on a concert high and decided to go to a local watering hole to quench our insatiable thirst and continue our streak of bad decisions being made. As the night went on people slowly started to sneak out and head home, one of them being JC. He decided it was time to go and Mitch begrudingly agreed, but not before making it clear that he was not happy. The boys start walking and decide that a cab would be the best way of getting back to the apartment we were staying at so they starting looking up and down the road for their chariot. As they are walking down the street they see a well dressed man standing by an Escalade. The man tells them to 'get in' and opens the door to the Escalade. Mitch was a little hesitant about this situation but before he could voice his concerns JC had already hopped in and was ready to go. They tell Dennis where they are heading and start talking about where they are from and what brought them to Denver. Dennis must have taken a liking to these boys because he offers them a Coors Light out of the cooler he has packed away in the Escalade. These aren't just any Coors Light cans though, they are mini Coors!

Aren't they cute?

JC was so impressed by the awesomeness that is DB that he arranged for him to pick us up on Saturday for the 2nd Dispatch concert we were all attending.

Saturday:

I was still feeling the repercussions of the night before so all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and watch the trial for Caylee Anthony's mom (what a psycho). Shaina somehow convinced me to go to the concert so I threw on some clothes and headed down to the lobby to meet up with the rest of the group. I was greeted by Dennis who told us to bring some beer and hop in....sold. He had a mix CD that he made, which could have been confused for NOW 342 because there were some hot jams on it. Our fan favorite was Wiz Khalifa's Black and Yellow, which Dennis played as loud as he could while we drove down the interstate to Red Rocks. When we arrived at Red Rocks there are about a half dozens entrances for cars and limos to drop off and pick up people. Apparently Dennis had made such an impression on the Red Rocks employees that they all just let him pass through without checking out tickets or asking questions. As he was driving through the sea of people he proclaimed, 'Im the Black Moses, get out of the way!". Sure enough, people did.

When we got dropped off we set up a game plan to have him bring us back in a limo because there were going to be 8 additional friends that were meeting us there and needed a ride home. The show ended and we went out to meet up with Dennis and hop in our limo. When we find him we notice that he is still driving the Escalade, wuh oh. Apparently another group said they would pay more to take the limo so they got whisked away and we were left with 12 people to fit into a 7 person Escalade. You would think that we would just arrange for another company to come pick us up, but no way Jose- we were fitting in that damn Escalade. People were sitting on laps, in the trunk, and in the aisle on a very uncomfortable cooler. Good thing there is always a massive traffic jam after concerts because who wouldn't want to stay packed in like this?

Dennis made it all better by buying us Skol vodka and ice cream sandwiches, which we all ate immediately. Never underestimate the power of an ice cream sandwich to calm the nerves of a drunk 20something after a concert. We listened to the music at full blast, which is not as enjoyable when you have someone's elbow in your side and a styrofoam cooler on your lap, but it was still one of the best memories of the trip. We finally made it back to the hotel where Molly, Shaina, and I left to go to bed. The boys stayed with Dennis though and went to the bars to continue the good times. If you are ever in the Denver area and need a driver who will make you laugh, make you question your decisions at times, and buy you ice cream sandwiches then give Dennis a call.

18 Weeks Ago this seemed like a good idea...

I just completed my first half marathon today! It is a great feeling, minus the searing pain coming from my waist down. Everyone I have talked to has been asking me: "How was it?" and "How do you feel?". I think that documenting each mile is the best way to adequately describe the roller coaster of emotions I went through this fine Sunday morning.

5:30am: Alarm goes off, immediate reaction is excitement followed by the urge to hit the snooze button once.

7:00am: race start time. Am I standing in line eagerly awaiting my turn to cross the start line? No. I am scrambling to find a parking spot because I ended up hitting the snooze button 3 times instead of once.

7:33am: officially started the race. Luckily there were 8000 runners so no one had to know that I had just gotten there in time to start.

Mile 1: Feeling great! Even though iPods were discouraged, I brought mine anyway. I was not about to spend 13.1 miles listening to myself breath.

Mile 2: Still feeling awesome! Im keeping up with the 2:00 pacer, if I can just stay with her I will be set!

Mile 3: Legs are starting to feel the burn, but I keep running. I toyed with the idea of running one mile, walking the next and so one, but Im feeling too good to slow down now.

Mile 4: Still running - wanted to slow down but "Push It" by Static X came on my iPod and its physically impossible to walk through this song.

Mile 5: Elvis just cheered me on, sweet. I decided to slow it down which is really hard to do when so many people are running past you. 2:15 pacer just passed me, crap.

Mile 6: My shoes are awesome, one of the best purchases I have made in a long time (Nike FreeRun+). My feet hardly hurt!! Saw a sign that said "Run! Zombies!". So I did.

Mile 7: I made a really lame attempt to drink my water as I ran past the group handing it out. Good thing I have a DriFit shirt on otherwise this would be awkward. Ok I need to walk.

Mile 8: Back to walking, toes starting to cramp. 2:30 pacer just passed me.

Mile 9: A man dressed as a pregnant nun just helped direct us across a busy street, sweet. I am amazed and grateful for all the spectators along the route, they really helped push me out of my mental blocks.

Mile 10: My hands are swelling up. I KNEW I should have drank more Gatorade before the race, shit. Everyone loves a girl with sausage fingers right? There is a lady playing air guitar to Bob Seger's "Hollywood Nights" on the side of the road so I better run the last half of this mile.

Mile 11: I am walking. Slowly. I may or may not have broke both of my ankles, at least thats how it feels. These shoes are the worst purchase I have ever made, might as well have run barefoot. 3:00 pacer just passed me, thats it- now Im pissed.

Mile 12: Oh God Im still running? Surprisingly it hurts less if I run, I think because my body is still trying to catch up to my brain. At least I can see the stadium.

Mile 13: Finally, the final mile!!!! Hands are swollen, face is sun burnt (totally forgot the sunscreen), and my feet are either cramping or broken. We are now running alongside the marathoners, which makes me realize they just ran twice as far in the same amount of time. Amazing athletes.

Finish: I start alongside the stadium and just go into a dead sprint. Not because I wanted to get a good time, but because I wanted the banana and gatorade waiting for me at the end of the line. I cross the finish line at the 50 yard line in Memorial and cant help but yell out a resounding 'FUCK YEAH". I grab my medal and food and begin the long process of calming my body down.

Now: There are ice bags on my feet, but they say I will live. I had so much fun training for this race, but Im so glad its over.