gamble's rambles

How can today not be a good day? The weekend has been full of birthday celebrations, Farm Day Round 2, Girl Squad Time, and other greatness. This morning began (at 6 am… body clock, I hate you) with bananas and peanut butter, one of my many Micah Mixes (Micah’s the only person I know that can pull off putting Just Around The Riverbend and I’m On A Boat on the same CD), and I know that Sunday Lunch involves basking in the sun on North Campus. Please and thank you. 

- … that I was still skiing.

- … that weekends could last forever.

- … that I had more than 100 days of school left.

- … that I didn’t have to get my cap and gown this week.

- … that I could live at Hardin forever.

- … that I was forced to go to bed. 

- … that spring would hurry up, get here, and stay. 

- … that this upper respiratory infection would move on out.

I feel like there are so many moments now when I think This right here is why I don’t want to graduate, grow up, and leave Athens. This weekend was filled with those moments. I don’t think I’ve longed for a weekend as much as I have this past week. It was a rough week at school, and it was all I could do to make it to 3:16 on Friday. 

Saturday morning was spent preparing for our trip to the farm. Apple pie baked, burger fixin’s all sliced, and the car packed with anything we’d ever need, we headed out to this place, three miles down the dirt road to our family farm. 

The weather was magnificent. After a frigid week including some snow, it was perfect to lay in the open field and soak up in the sun. We explored the barns and the house and made vows to not tell scary stories so Hardin could sleep soundly. We ventured down through the woods and made it to the creek. (The boys tried to knock over trees with their bare hands… boys will be boys. We also learned that dogs will be dogs… Rebel was given a bath as soon as he got home…) We made a delicious dinner and ate around the kitchen table. I think we all at some point wished we could live out there and avoid the mounds of work that awaited us back in the Classic City. We stayed out there well past dark, enjoying the stars and attempting to keep warm. I’d say it was a success… at Sunday Lunch, I was asked multiple times to go back soon! Once it warms up a little (and now that the busted pipe in the wellhouse is fixed…) it’ll be even better!

We sang two of my favorite songs at church today, Holy, Holy, Holy and On Jordan’s Stormy Banks. (Maybe it’s morbid, but I’d like both of those sung at my funeral, please. Maybe it’s not so morbid after all… Tyler asked me yesterday if I planned to be buried at The Farm.)  Sitting front and center at Redeemer this morning made me miss night church, but I do love being with everyone on Sunday mornings. 

After church, we enjoyed the first Oak Street Sunday Lunch, which, rumor has it, will become a tradition. I conquered my fear of chicken and dumplings (thanks, Tyler) and enjoyed other deliciousness. We all sat around a huge table and it was wonderful. I’ve started to realize that this is really the last time I’ll have so many friends that are so similar to me, that are in the same stage of life, and are the same age. Yikes. 

After Sunday Lunch, Brooke and I got on our roof and enjoyed this weather. Though it was a bummer that I couldn’t just sleep up there and had to do lesson plans, it was lovely nonetheless. My friend Emily Hearn, who is a talented little lady, sings a song called Rooftop. You should give it a listen… It basically sums up my thoughts these days. 

And now, I must go print out my lesson plans and return to real life.

PS: Can I say how excited I am about The Avett Brothers, Mumford and Sons, and Bob Dylan  performing tonight?!  

I’m pretty confident that if you know me, you know that I’m a sleep-walking, sleep-talking, semi-narcoleptic kind of girl. Add in the exhaustion and timeline of student teaching, and all you can expect is an increase of the aforementioned three things. My roommates have come to know that it’s completely normal for me to fall asleep if we’re watching TV, if we’re talking, or if I’m just sitting still after dark. (Random house visitors have also come to expect such.) 

I’ve learned that after falling asleep, I should limit activities. I shouldn’t pack my lunch after I’ve fallen asleep on the couch at night before retiring to my bed. (Why, you ask? Because you’ll have a PB&J for lunch. Just a PB&J.) I’ve also learned that I shouldn’t answer the phone. It’s dangerous. I also learned that it’s dangerous to have the phone near you, because, well, something like this might happen…

Exhibit A: This text was sent while I was asleep on the couch. Roommate Caroline was in her room. She texted me to announce the arrival of two male visitors. (As if I wouldn’t soon find out considering that I was asleep on the couch…)

 KG: Haaaaaa nopeim asleep andcats in her bathrobe

Exhibit B: The following conversation occurred via text Tuesday night. I went to my room around 10 pm to watch Mad Men (knowing full well that I would fall asleep within the first ten minutes). Brooke knew this would happen, so she decided to inquire… My commentary is in italics… 

BS: Asleep yet?

KG: Nope True Statement.

BS: Impressed She should be.

KG: Ha. Good one.

BS: My first good one in a while. Note the Kanye reference.

KG: George Robertson Now I’m starting to fall asleep, obviously. George Robertson, the pastor at FPC Augusta has a look alike on Mad Men. Brooke and I have discussed this before. Since I saw him when I woke up to respond to this text, I felt it necessary to include him in the text.

BS: I hate Duc in those episodes. That’s the characters name. 

KG: Sweet smiley I’m obviously asleep at this point….. what smiley am I referring to? What the heck? What on Earth? I’m crazy.

BS: Awake? Obviously not, as I don’t say anything….. for two hours.

Two hours later, I’m awoken to the sounds of Teach Me How To Dougie coming from our kitchen. By awoken, I don’t really mean awoken. I suppose I mean “made aware of”. I decide that I’d love to go out and join this dance party, but I can’t quite wake myself up to do so. I decide, then, to just text Brooke. I decide that saying “Teach me how to Dougie” will certainly suffice. So, in my mind, I actually texted “Teach me how to Dougie”. I remember thinking that maybe I’d misspelled a word or two, but I was confident that Brooke would be able to understand what I was trying to say. False. This is what I sent… 

Teeeeescgmyhoeetidoihir

Someone suggested that I keep my phone far away from my bed. Oh, I do. I keep it in the bathroom so that when my alarm goes off before sunrise, I’m forced to get out of bed. Another suggested that I put a password on my iPhone. Yeah, I have that, too. 

Moral of the story? If you ever get a questionable text, know that I’m probably just asleep (or autocorrect is killing me).