gamble's rambles

Dear Pandora,

I love you. I love that you know me better than I know myself. I love that though you’re currently playing music based off of the song “My Girl”, you don’t let that limit you. You’ve played solid oldies all morning while I cleaned up, made pancakes, and enjoyed good conversation. Now, as I’ve settled down and have done some work, you knew that I needed a pick-me-up, especially after filling out my application for student teaching. You knew exactly what song, too. You know that “Don’t Stop Believin’” is the ultimate song. You know that I would choose it over just about any other song. You’re the best.

Love, keg 

It’s hit me that I’m a senior… this is my last year of college. (That five year plan is sounding quite appealing to say the least.) Lately I’ve had times where I realize that that’s the last time I’ll do something: the last time I’ll buy books, the last time I’ll go into a class where I don’t know anyone, the last first day of school, the last first night back in Athens, the last RUF Leadership Retreat. In some ways, I feel like it’s my last semester of college as I’ll be student teaching full-time next semester. There have also been moments that I wanted to capture, moments that I wish I could bottle up and revisit later. Moments like:

• Thursday was a good friend’s birthday… of all of my close friends now, I’ve known her the longest… eleven years (yikes!). After enjoy dessert (delicious pies, fruit bars, and a pair of edible Chacos) and dancing, we headed to Trappeze. I’d also like to bottle that place up and take it with me wherever I go in life. With ten balloons tied around her waist, we piled in the car and headed downtown. What to do with ten balloons? Oh, just let them hang out the sunroof. No big deal. Perfectly normal Athens Thursday activities. As we sung “Table for Two” by Caedmon’s Call, Kelly and I attempted to hold the balloons down to avoid Caroline being sucked out the sunroof. Mission accomplished. 
• Leadership Retreat… being able to catch up with friends and hear about summers, chances to laugh until you cry, cry until you laugh, have serious conversations, and just cut up with people. Moments to show off rapping skillz, to make breakfast for 40 people (including popping the circuit breaker five times), to find a scorpion in the bathtub, and to jump out of your skin when someone accidentally scares you. Time to be with old friends, to make new friends, to be open and honest, and to be united by the amazing Father that loves us. 
• Having friends (real friends, not like family friends or older friends) get engaged. After walking into a group meeting today on the retreat, I find myself quite intimidated as I came in at the tail end of things, slowly opening the door to find twelve sets of eyes staring at me in silence as they are all snuggled under blankets. I hear the phrase “Laura got engaged”. My only response was to squawk loudly and fall into a mattress. Fourteen months ago I specifically remember Laura saying this at Summer Conference: “Katie, there’s that Gage guy. He’ll probably come and sit with us because we’re from UGA, too. I don’t really know him… do you?”. No, I didn’t know him then. Now I do. And now they’re gettin’ married. 

What’s more embarrassing than dragging a life-size tailgate tent with wheels around Wal-Mart? I’ll tell you what… (I’ll also tell you that the aforementioned scenario also occurred today.) 

In celebration of our returns to Athens, I met a bunch of friends for dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Our time together was delightful. We enjoyed lots of ridiculous laughs, and I really realized how much I’d miss these folks. After we finished eating, I went to use the restroom. Since we were a large party, they rest of them decided to leave the table while I was in the restroom. No big deal - I’m perfectly capable of meeting them outside. And, that’s just what I did. I walked from the restroom in the back corner of the restaurant all the way across the restaurant to outside. I even passed the outdoor patio. On my way out, I noticed that a girl in a booth looked at me and then quickly looked away, slightly covering her face with her hands. My immediate thoughts were “How rude” (Stephanie Tanner style). Upon reaching my friends in the parking lot, one of my roommates says “Um, Katie…” and points at the ground. Don’t worry, I’d just been toting a two-foot long piece of toilet paper on the back of my shoe.

I knew I should’ve worn Chacos. This would’ve never happened.  

So, my Middle School Education adviser retired over the summer. Will I miss her? Eh, not so much. After all, she struggles to read transcripts and tells students (a.k.a. yours truly) that they are behind, suggesting that they take nineteen (yes, nineteen) hours in one semester including part-time student teaching. Then, the next time they meet, she reviews records and says “Hmm… why’d you take nineteen hours? Feeling a little overzealous?” You say overzealous, I just say obedience. 
Regardless, I have a new adviser. His last name is Allen. A solid name. I, however, sometimes lack solid keyboarding skills. Thus, he just received an email beginning with:

Hey, Mr. Alien,

Fail. Allen. Allen. Allen. NOT Alien.  

I’m going to rethink the aforementioned ramblings about a class pet. Do I still want one? You bet. But perhaps I want something a little more… exotic. I’ve had some recent encounters with the less fuzzy pet world. What do I mean, you ask? 

This morning I discovered a little friend in our kitchen. He (or maybe she) was a tiny little lizard. By tiny, I really do mean tiny. A little baby. Mom suggested that I use it as a cat toy. Really? Ridiculous. I picked up the little guy… he was not scared at all… and returned him outside. He was cute in the reptile-scaly-non-cuddly way.

Yesterday I went to fetch lunch for my boss and me. We decided on Market City Cafe, a delicious little spot just a few blocks from the bakery downtown. On my walk, I notice that there’s something kind of strange hanging out on the sidewalk. As I approach, it starts to move a little. I slowly creep up to it and bend down. What is it? Just a praying mantis.

I was mesmerized. I really wanted to catch him and keep him for my future classroom, but I feel like bringing a praying mantis into the bakery would probably violate some kind of every health code. So I just watched him for a bit. I think I startled him as he did this number:

This, undoubtedly, reminded me of a recent occurrence at Austin and Anna Caroline’s wedding:
 

So, maybe one day I’ll have a hedgehog AND a praying mantis. Oh buddy. I’ll need to keep an eye out…. I just did some brief research on Mr. Mantis and apparently he (more typically the she) will eat anything… including her mate. I’ll need to watch over Sonic the Hedgehog and make sure that praying preying mantis is under control.

Sometimes More often than not, my dad thinks that he can speak Chinese/some Asian dialect. Can he? Absolutely not. What a joke. Jim Gamble can speak English, Ebonics, Feline (or so he thinks), and some Spanish (this comes in handy when we eat Mexican…). However, he’s pretty confident that he is multi-lingual, especially in the languages of the Far East. Today, after church, we went to eat at The Mandarin, a Chinese restaurant. We ended up eating with the women’s ministry director at the church and her husband. This guy and my dad have a lot in common… They both are named Jim, they both have daughters named Katie (whoop whoop), all of their kids went to UGA, and…. they both think they speak Chinese. Jim and Jim proceeded to banter back and forth in their own version of Chinese. Reason #409859 my life is ridiculous.

It seems like just yesterday I was a senior in high school, spending time with my discipleship group discussing the next big thing: college. Well, now I’m a senior in college (ohmyword), so that means that the younger girls in my discipleship group are now freshmen in college. How did this happen? I’m not quite sure. But, I’m sure of one thing: skyping with CT on her first night in Auburn delights my soul.

Tonight I found myself watching a group of boys  men  guys  fools  males partake in the Gallon Challenge. I’ve seen this done before. I went to pick up one thing from one girl and found myself looking on as these poor fellas put their digestive tracts to the test. (In case you were wondering, they failed. Did you really expect success? As a science nerd, I know that your stomach can really only hold about a half of a gallon.) It’s so strange, though. I didn’t want to watch this. But I did. I didn’t want to look, but I did. I knew that I was going to want to throw up when I watched them throw up, and yet, I watched. You just can’t help but watch sometimes. Why? Why is that? I don’t know. But, I’ll leave you with some pointers:

• If you have your choice of milk offerings, you should probably choose skim. Chocolate milk may sound appetizing, but I’m going to warn you otherwise. Whole milk? Come on. You might as well be drinking cottage cheese (‘cause that’s what it’s going to look like on the return). 
• Prepare. Don’t eat something that has even a potential ralph factor, such as Chinese food.
• Whether you are a participant or an on-looker, you should breathe through the mouth at all times. The sights and sounds are enough…. you should avoid the smells if at all possible.
• Watch your feet. Avoid the splatter zones (which are larger than one might think). 
• Vacate the area soon after the challenge hour is over. Do not return for a few days. (The fragrance was foul enough when I left… add in a few good hours of Georgia sun, and you have yourself quite a delight.)   

Today, I…

• was awoken at an unfortunate hour by my cat attacking my face.
• was later awoken and began thinking “Hmmm, I really like this song!”, only to realize it was my alarm. The same alarm tone that I’ve been waking up to for over a year. Apparently my sleeping-self believes that AT&T & LG have great music offerings. Ha.
• listened to my mother tell me that I look like a high schooler. Sadly, I know there’s truth behind that.
• informed a friend that carrot cake does actually have carrots in it.
• realized how Macon really is boring. Really. Countdown to A-Town: ten days. Whooooop!