In honor of my nephew

I will revive my blog! At least temporarily. If I come up with some more amusing antidotes it will continue.

Samuel Steele Fullenkamp was born December 29, 2010 by C-section. He was 7 pounds 7 ounces. Here's little Sam's first picture. He's definitely got the Fullenkamp chubby cheeks!

And for a little shameless self-promotion I will make the little guy wear this fantastic little onsie

Happy Birthday Sam!

One more drum roll(and I swear we're done)

My older sister got engaged!!!!

Like I said, we're done with drum rolls now, all of my siblings are engaged that can be engaged!

I've never wanted to key someone's car

Until today.

Bumper sticker on the back of a SUV in the parking lot of my building:

"I'll keep my guns, money, and freedom. You keep the "change""

You know you're all amazed by my restraint

I know, I know

I stink at posting. Just wanted to let you all know that I knew that :)

October and November were a little rough here in KC, however there was two bright spots:

1. I got to go to South Bend! (whoever thought I would end up there less than 6 months after graduation, but it was fantastic to see everyone)

2. I ran my first half-marathon! My time was 2 hours 19 minutes and 32 seconds. Pictures to come! I'm sure they'll be lovely*....

*Read "look like death warmed over"

Its all official

So its been a big couple of weeks around here, and I'm now official or as my mother calls it "legal". It feels a little weird, but here are the highlights for you all :)

This is what I came in to find at my office the day after bar results came out. They're cute like that at Legal Aid :)

Of course, I hammed it up before signing the "Roll of Attorneys"

Actually signing the Roll of Attorneys

Won't lie, I felt a little like I was being followed around by the paparazzi (if the paparazzi had to stop and ask me how to use the camera)

Missouri Supreme Court judges, notice how they girls and boys are sitting on separate sides. How junior high dance of them ;)

Federal Swearing in ceremony

All done! Time to take cheesy pictures in front of the Supreme Court Building.

The oath. Enough said.

And one more thing to put on the wall

I have a card and everything now. People actually expect me to know things, which is just slightly freaky

Woohoo!!!!!

Yet another drum roll please....

My big brother got engaged!

For those of you who know my oldest brother, this is big news :)

Drum Roll Please....

I passed the bar!!!! (although many of you got a text message to that effect earlier, but I'm so excited!)

No one should be surprised

I broke my toe. 5 weeks into training for a half-marathon.

And I didn't do it playing a sport this time, which makes it even sadder. Instead I accidentally ran into/kicked a free weight on my living room floor. That's what I get for keeping weights in my apartment :(

Existential crisis

Ok, not a real existential crisis. More like a mini-crisis.

I realized today that this is the first time since I was 3 years old that I have not been part of the "back to school" craze. I'm feeling a little weird about the whole thing.

That's all. More to come when I figure out how I feel about this mini-crisis.

Faux blast from the past

For those of you who are familiar with my escapades of law school, you will recognize the following name: Cheeks.

For those of you who don't, lets just say this particular boy lead to an amazingly awkward situation between my roommate 1L year and myself...partially due to the boys behavior and partially due to the extraordinarily thin walls of Fischer Graduate Residence. On the upside, this particular situation did solidify my friendship with Bagel.*

So M and I walk into a bar and sit down to have our import beer (gotta love Charlie Hoopers import night). Its all going fine for the first hour or so; we're chatting and carrying on. And then all the sudden this guy comes up to the table, sets his beer down, and inserts himself into the conversation. At first we found boy (who I shall call Faux Cheeks) slightly amusing, in an "ok, you're a little annoying but we'll laugh at your jokes anyway". I swear, this guy was a dead ringer for Cheeks. So much so that I spent the first 5 minutes of the conversation doing a double take. Not a particularly noteworthy experience except for the following comments/scenarios:

1. Faux cheeks referred to himself as "daddy", while referencing his two dogs. Creepy. Super-creepy.

2. Faux cheeks kept doing what can only be called making his biceps dance. No joke, every couple of minute he would make his biceps twitch. I'm all for working out if you want to, but I had to work REALLY hard not to laugh out loud. I only sort of succeeded. And by sort of, I mean not at all.

3. When Faux cheeks engaged the old (I'm talking post 45 years old) men behind us in a "who can kick higher" contest**

4. He engaged in what I like to call "excessive high-fiving"

5. I kid you not, the song "Save a horse, ride a cowboy" came on and Faux cheeks chugs the rest of his beer, slams it down on the table, and walks out of the bar...to the beat of the song...right at the end. Talk about feeling the need to make a high drama exit.

*And you thought you were in trouble ;)

**Enforcer, even I wasn't that bad.

And thank god, then he went home.

New Digs

Per the request of the Enforcer, I finally have picture of the new digs! You will note that I have not put up anything on the walls yet, but I will soon have the apartment decorated up to Bagel and my apartment standards.* Here's the play by play:

What I see when I walk in the front door (fabulous :)

Where I would eat if I was a classy person**

My kitchen, that I actually cook in

You can tell how old this kitchen and the appliances are by the stove controls....totally old school

The bathroom. Yes, that's right. Its pink***

Since the bathroom is so ugly I felt it deserved two pictures

My bedroom, big kid bed and all. And yes, that is a teddy bear on the bed. His name is Tattered Teddy. I'm not ashamed to admit that I still sleep with a stuffed bear :)

By far the weirdest/creepiest part of the apartment...there are 4 full length mirrors. My landlord seems to think this is a selling point and keeps saying "Well, you're a girl, don't you need mirrors?"****

There's also a pretty kick ass view from the apartment (I'm on the tenth floor and one wall is almost entirely windows), but I couldn't get a decent picture through the glass. I'll work on it cause its totally worth it!

The funniest part of the building I live in is that about 50-75% of the building is really old Jewish women and the building is quite possibly the ugliest baby-blue building there every was, which makes telling people where you live really easy cause everyone in KC knows where it is! Yesterday I got on the elevator with an older woman who lives on my floor, and I asked her how she was doing. Her response, "Good, I woke up this morning. When you're my age, that's all you can ask for!" I laughed pretty hard.

Overall I really like the new place and I'm getting use to have a real person schedule.***** So far I have 7 clients of my very own! I keep oscillating between the thoughts "My own clients, cool!" and a panicked "Oh my god, I'm actually in charge of these cases!" My co-workers are also really nice and I think I'm starting to make some friends at work, which is helpful. I'll write more about work when I can think of something witty to say :)

In other news, I'm running a half-marathon on November 22nd in Overland Park, Kansas. A half marathon in Kansas in November could be very interesting as far as weather is concerned. Stay tuned, however I promise this blog will not become about my training, but be prepared for some bitching about having to run farther than 3 miles, which as luck would have it starts tomorrow.

*Bagel, I may need that weird elephant hanging thing to make the place feel like home.

**I promise if any of you come visit (which you should, I'm a good hostess) I will eat with you at the kitchen table.

***I normally like pink, but this is a really strange shade of pink.

****Everyone who's walked in has made the comment that having that many mirrors in your bedroom is a little kinky. I have to say I agree with them, its a little creepy. And on a side note, no scandalous stories to go along with this apartment yet. There's a reason the blogs called "and then he went home" ;)

*****Bagel, I went to bed at 10PM once last week and it was glorious. I think you may have rubbed off on me...

The last thing I hope to ever say about the Bar Exam

Its over!!!

But it wouldn't be me if there wasn't a or two involved story involved

Story 1-Car trouble

I get to Jefferson city after a 5 1/2 hour drive, of which I only spent like 2 hours of it in panic, then I just sang along to my ipod :)  Anyway, I get to Jefferson City and check into a really bad hotel, which consequently is where I'm suppose to take the exam.  So I check in, only to find out that I'm in a separate building from where the exam actually is.  Mind you, I think the whole point of staying at the hotel where the bar is is to be in the same building as the bar exam.  Evidently I was wrong.  But I digress.  After I check in, I go back out to my car to drive over to my hotel room and I see fluid running out from under my car...this is the point where I start thinking, and saying "SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!"  So I drive the car over to my room and it makes squealing noises the whole way, call my dad and tell him what happened. 

He laughs at me.  Evidently my panic is amusing at times*.  So he tells me to call road side assistance, I do and they come out to look at the car.  As I'm talking to them they keep asking me what the color of the liquid is, which of course I can't get to so I can't tell what color it is on the black top.  Then a tow truck comes out and the driver, named Jim who is a kindly older gentleman hops down to come look at the car.  Mind you, he comes in a big red and yellow truck that takes up the entire parking lot, meaning that everyone at the hotel, who consequently are also taking the bar, is looking out their window thinking "Oh my god, I'm so glad I'm not that girl".

Jim goes up to the car and at this point the fluid had gotten to the point where you could reach it, so he runs his finger through it.  Looks at it.  Looks at me.  And says "Its water".....and I want to die of embarrassment, it was condensation off the damn air conditioner!  And of course, as soon as Jim gets in the car and drives it around, the squealing noise stops.  So not only do I look stupid, now I also look like I'm hallucinating.

Jim, being the kindly older gentleman that he is, gives me the card to a shop in town and tells me to get it looked at before I leave town because "there MAY be something wrong with one of the belts".  Poor Jim was trying to give me an out and make me feel less stupid.  And then Jim goes to leave, pats me on the shoulder and says "Good luck".  Even my tow truck friend pitied me!  

Don't worry it turns out that my car was just fine, although I didn't have it looked at before I left town... I made it back to Kansas City after the exam and that was good enough for me.

Story 2-Computer trouble

Of course, my computer has been just fine all year and it decides to freak out the day of the essay portion of the bar exam.  The first part went fine, then I tried to get it into exam mode for the second part, necessitating it shutting down, and my computer decides it wants to install FIFTY-ONE updates!  Keep in mind that I had 10 minutes at this point to get my computer into exam mode before they were going to make me handwrite it.  And you guys have seen my handwriting, you know how badly this would go.  I take the computer up to the tech support people who try to help me work it out.  They tell me to shut down the computer and let it reboot.  I do that, and partway through its start up, it shuts down randomly!  This again is the point in the day where I think "SHIT SHIT SHIT!" and everyone in the room is thinking "Oh my god, I'm so glad I'm not that girl".  But alas, the computer finally starts to behave and I can take the MPT on the computer.

And repeat that story for the afternoon session.  If I didn't need my computer so much that day I would have thrown it across the room.

Both stories turned out well thankfully, but needless to say I was really mad at my electronics and mechanical devices this week.

Congrats to everyone on being done!!!

Mr. Bankruptcy

So this story isn't really mine and its not a real fun boy story but I figure to keep people interested I ought to put something up!

M and I went out on Friday night only for M to be picked up by a man I shall dub "Mr. Bankruptcy".  Basically the way this went down was M and I were sitting at a table, drinking our draft beers and minding our own business and when we look up we are flanked on one side by people who pretty obviously are coming from a wedding rehearsal dinner (they just set the scene, nothing really to do with the story) and on the other by a group of guys, a couple of whom are "older".*  At any rate, that group evidently feels the need to take over our table and start setting glasses on it, leaning on it etc (which would be fine except for that its a 4 top table.  Not really room for extra people you don't know).  Anyway, then one of them sits down and starts talking to us, and pretty soon we're surrounded by the whole group.  A decent number of them left and we ended up with a set of brothers(enter Mr. Bankruptcy), one who is in his upper 20s (I'm going with 29) and one who just finished his junior year of college.

At any rate, Mr. Bankruptcy comes over and sits down next to me right as M says to another member of their group "Oh, she just graduated from law school".  Mr. Bankruptcy sits down and makes a snarky comment about my graduating from law school, prompting me to say "Let me guess, you're a lawyer?" Turns out I was right!  He is a lawyer, and a bankruptcy lawyer at that.  This is how the following conversation goes:

Mr. Bankruptcy: Where did you go to school?

Me: Up in Indiana.

Mr. Bankruptcy: Oh, Indiana University.

Me: No, Notre Dame.**

Mr. Bankruptcy: Oh. [enter a comment that I remember being a little mean spirited but not clever enough to remember since I was working on getting a little tipsy]

Mr. Bankruptcy: So, do you have a job?

Me: Yup, I'm working at Legal Aid.

Mr. Bankruptcy: Oh, I guess its a tough job market***

Me: No, I actually wanted to do public interest work.

Mr. Bankruptcy:  Oh, so you're one of the hundreds of people who apply to law school saying "I wanna help people"**** So, you actually work at Legal Aid?

Me: Yeah, and I like it!

[And then Mr. Bankruptcy gets up and leaves.  Evidently saying you work at Legal Aid is a good way to scare away bankruptcy attorneys.]

Needless to say I was happy to scare this one off.  Unfortunately he and M hit it off despite him being a jerk both to me, and then to her at the end of the evening.  So we shall see if I have anymore encounter's with Mr. Bankruptcy.  If I do, I will be sure to tell him that the only difference between his clients and my clients is that his clients actually had money to being with and then did stupid things with it (okay, I realize not everyone who goes bankrupt did stupid things to do it, but go with me here), whereas mine never had any money and then either couldn't survive off that amount of money (or did stupid things with it, that happens too).

And then (thankfully) he went home.

*Ok, to me older means 35-40s.  I hope this doesn't offend anyone.

**When I tell him ND immediately the "oh, so you're too good for a state school" antenna goes up.  This seems to be a pretty predominant attitude around here a lot of the time, which is unfortunate.  This is where people start to get defensive about their own schools.

***Yes, this is the point where things get interesting.

****Keep in mind that the first sentence of my admission essay to law school actually was "I want to help people".  No joke.

And then Hank went home

I have to report (in a bittersweet tone) that our beloved Hank now has new owners.  They're a very nice couple who are really really excited to have him, so I'm happy about that.  And I think they'll take good care of him.  Unfortunately I'm just not around enough to let the poor little guy out and even when I did, he hated being out on the tile floor.  At any rate he's got new owners, but then I realized a little later that they may be super religious...(indication is from a cross on a check they wrote me for an adoption fee*)  At any rate, its a little weird because I keep coming home and saying "Hi Hank" only to realize that he's not there

*The adoption fee was so that Hank didn't go to people who would feed him to a snake.  Evidently that's what happens when you give a bunny away for free.  So no worries, no being snake food for Hank.

You know what I don't like?

People who pull into a gated parking lot (read:  you have to pay to park here), try and back up (read: into my car), decide they can't get out because you can't back into a busy street, so they go into the parking lot, turn around and yell "Go F*** yourself" at said innocent car.

I love stupid people.  My policy on this: Don't blame me because you can't figure out the parking gate without having a kiniption-fit.  And if you can't, maybe you shouldn't be driving.

Sooooo tempted....

To put the following picture up on the door of the dude who lives above me in response to his loud music.

http://www.asofterworld.com/nn.com/

I have taken to using my sorority paddle to bang on the ceiling when he gets too loud, which is basically every day.  And makes me the crotchety old lady that lives downstairs.  And I'm kind of ok with that.  What I'm not ok with is the fact that it does no good because I don't think he can hear the banging over the music.  Must work on better plan, even though this one makes me feel better.

And this is one reason that I'm moving into what Maureen likes to call "The old Jewish lady building"*.  Reason its called this:  when all the old Jewish ladies outlive their husband's they move into this building (or at least they use to, now its 25% old jewish ladies, 75% "young professionals").  No joke, its this ugly blue building but its in a great neighborhood with no less than two grocery stores, three bars, five restaurants, a coffee shop, and two banks within walking distance.  And we all know how little I like to walk (notice how often Bagel and I drove to school) so you've gotta know they're close.  Oh, and did I mention its on the 10th floor with a killer view?  I'm a little excited about it.  Except that my potential landlord has a tendency to call me "dear" or "sweetie" which I find to be patronizing, but he's either really trusting or underestimating me because he's letting me write my own lease**

That's it from KC, signing off.  More stories to come!

*Bagel, I may not be able to turn you into an old Jewish man, but stick with me and I may be able to turn you into an old Jewish woman.

**Don't get too excited kids, I'm using the standard lease form provided courtesy of my father, no fun clauses in this one.  I did some negotiating (basically saying, "Umm, that clause isn't legally enforceable" and then offered the standard form.  I win ;)

The international welcome wagon, part deux

Evidently I am having the most random night of my life.

Backstory:  Last week in my long day haze I left my keys in my apartment door (not smart and so not safe) by accident when I brought groceries in.  Evidently some guy who lives down the hall from me saw them and took them out, knocked to try and get my attention (didn't answer, I think I was showering, which is irrelevant).  But later I am looking for said keys for about 30 minutes (repeat list of places I searched when I lost my key card two weeks ago...microwave...refrigerator...underbed) and then think "hey, maybe I left them in the door".  I do this sometimes, including leaving my keys hanging out of my mailbox at ND.  

So I pop my head out the door and as soon as I do a note falls onto the floor.  I pick up said note and it says that a guy who I shall call Keys who lives in apartment 228 has my keys and to call him so I could get them back.  Which sounds creepy when you type it out but really was a nice thing to do.  I probably would have taken them to the front desk, but to each their own.  So I call said number, get my keys from Keys, who is very obviously an Indian foreign exchange student of some sort, say thanks and go off on my merry little way.

Enter tonight:  I just get finished writing my post about VB Nazi and I get a text message that says "Hi!  This is Keys who had your keys the other day." and he proceeds to tell me that he's going to dinner and a hooka bar this weekend and would I like to come.

Inner dialog:  Wait, did he just ask me out over text messaging?  Is this a group thing?  How do I figure this out?  Damn it!  What the hell am I going to talk to Keys about? (Keep in mind that I have not decided whether or not to go). Squirrel!*  Wait, what do I wear on a non-date?  Can I wear something that makes him know this is a non-date?  No high heels, obviously.  Damn it!  How do I not be bitchy and say no?  Crap.  Why am I saying no?  Does this make me judgy?  Oh wait, remember last time you pity dated and almost ended up with a marriage proposal.**  Ok, not going.

Actual response:  My weekend is pretty crazy but I may be able to make it for a while.  If you let me know this weekend when you guys are going, I'll see what I can do but I don't want to hold you all up.  (trying trying trying to establish a group and head off hurting Keys feelings if he actually was asking me out***)

Actual action:  Plan on not going, feel guilty about saying that I would try to go as an avoidance tactic, depending on guilt complex go OR run away to power and light district for Mr Dismemberment Insurance's and KC clan.

Really more to come on this one.

*Ok, not really squirrel but I'm sure something equally as random like "I'm hungry" popped into my head during this stream of inner dialog

**Again not really, but you all know who I'm talking about and if you don't email me and I'll explain.  I couldn't come up with a good code name, I'm taking suggestions.

***Very possible he didn't actually ask me out and my inner dialog took over and created a situation that may or may not have been there.  Hasn't been the first time that's happened, right?

Did you play in college?

Oh lordy, I've got a good one for you guys.  I put up a "classified" on the Heartland of America Volleyball website to try and find a team in KC that I could play on once I got back here.  Because we all know that I am a much happier person when I get to play volleyball and when I don't, watch out cause it ain't* going to be pretty.

I digress.  When I was in college I got picked up by a team of middle aged women to play on their club team...which was fun but definitely not up to my ability.  They were awsome ladies and I had so much fun, but I'm looking for something a little more serious.  Notice the words "a little".  I definitely think I got myself into something more tonight.  I get a call this morning while I'm in BarBri from some guy saying he saw my posting looking for a team and that I had listed myself as A (the categories are B, BB, A, AA) and a setter and played co-ed.  All true statements and his message sounded pretty chill so I figured give it a shot right?  Step out of the comfort box and make some new friends.

At any rate, I get no response after I leave a voicemail this afternoon.  But then I get a text message from this kid (we'll call him the VB nazi for blog purposes) at 9:40PM and all it says is "Did you play in college?"  Can we guess what my internal reaction to that was.  Rage.  For some reason volleyball is one of the few things I get uppity about** and I get real annoyed with people who adopt a superior attitude without having proved it.  And I might add that playing in college is not a pre-requisite for playing in an A league.  So I managed to push down my rage enough to respond that I did not play in college but played open gyms regularly throughout college and law school.  Unfortunately there is no good way to explain the competitiveness of Notre Dame open gyms to someone who judges skill by whether or not you played for your college or not.  And then I said that I get that they want to make sure that players are as good as they say they are so I would be happy to come to a practice or informal game sometime after July***  At any rate, then I get a call from VB Nazi...and he sounds like he's 17.

During my conversation with VB Nazi there were questions like "How tall are you?" and "Do you know the numbers for all the sets?" and other such patronizing comments.  And just so you all know that I didn't lose all my snark since coming back to KC my response to the question about the numbers for all the sets was "I can set all the set numbers, so yeah I know them all"****  At any rate, VB Nazi evidently didn't listen to my voicemail because there were all sorts of mention of playing in July, and I had to remind him numerous times that I can't play until August because of the bar.  Try explaining how much time it takes to both work and study for the bar to a non-law student.  Trust me, its fun.  But I have tentatively agreed to try and go out and meet them on Sunday for an "informal" game, which I have a bad feeling will turn into a tryout that will make me want to spike a ball at someone's (insert VB Nazi) head.

Better yet, VB Nazi had me friend him on facebook so that he could send me their volleyball schedule, which is a fine idea actually.  And then I see that he just graduated in '06 so he's probably about 22.  Also not bad, except that he talked to me like he was superior despite being younger AND sounding like a 17 year old.  The best part of the facebook stalking I could do at that point (more to come once I get full access to the profile), and I see he went to Park University.  Its a freaking community college*****  And they're in the NAIA meaning its a tiny school.  Its not like this kid played at a freaking Division I, or even Division II or III.  Don't get uppity with me buddy, I could have played at your school.  Also, we're in Missouri; outside of St. Louis none of the boys know how to play volleyball around here.  This is not California.

For those of you who aren't privy to my volleyball rants** I apologize, but come on.  Stop talking about playing against each other "in college" and making it sound like you went to some D-I school and play like Abrahem.******

Ok, rant done.  More to come after I meet these people.  And BTW, if VB Nazi turns out to be a really nice no one gets to hold this against me later...

*My dear English major and grammar Nazi friends excuse the use of the word ain't...I do math.

**Quiet Megan ;)

***Yes, the bar is ruining my life.

****Followed by an explanation to the VB Nazi that in different geographical areas the sets are called different numbers and different teams have different nuances on their systems.  Yes, I get uppity sometimes.

*****Nothing wrong with community college, I will make my point about the athletics though.  Even though many junior colleges turn out good basketball players and probably volleyball players as well I still take issue with this kid.

******Swoon.

Favorite quotes from BarBri (ok, from so far today even)

1. "In Florida you can marry your mother...unless she's gay"

2. "If a ten year professor, Professor Rougueau, snaps up the offer...blah blah blah"  The quote itself, not so interesting, the fact that he mentioned our beloved Vinny made me so happy though!!!

More (and different posts) soon, promise!

The B list

All of my comments for this Blog start with a B, how clever! (yes, it took me a long time to think of it and I'm proud of it)

BarBri (ok, that one was easy)

1.  I have the ultimate group of "mean girls" who sit in front of me at BarBri.  Picture this: 2 bleach blond girls and 1 brunette, all overly tan and wearing giant engagement rings.  That's not the issue though, just giving you a visual here.  Every single days these three girls walk in saying things like "well I went and did a workout with Andre [insert any name that sounds like it belongs to a personal trainer] at 7:30 this morning" which was fine.  Until the day when one of them followed it up with "and did you see that girl who came in and got on the elliptical for like 20 minutes and then left.  Cause that's a workout!  And she looked so proud of herself, like, I worked out today!"  This is the moment where my head about blew off...I did throw them an incredulous look, but being "mean girl" types they didn't notice.  Mocking people who aren't as physically fit (ok, I'm going to be mean and say it.  Not as vain as you), is not ok.  These are the people who give other people anxiety about going to the gym.  The UV rays they've been getting must have damaged the part of their brain that stores manners and kindness.

2. Made legitimate friends with the smoker crowd, which confused evil dictator because he thought I took up smoking.  I was amused.

3.  Wanted to throw something at the professor talking about Missouri Civil Procedure today because:

(a) When you write a 93 page outline, you don't get to go off on tangents every 5 minutes and call it "going off outline".  With that many pages to cover in two days, everything you want to say better be in the outline. I wish I had counted the number of times the phrases "going off outline" and "on outline" were said over the past two days.

(b)  He didn't understand what a mnemonic device was.  I'm no English major (obvious from my sentence structure, grammar, and spelling), but even I know that "If you just make preclusion a priority, failure is impossible" is not a mnemonic for the elements of collateral estoppel.  Or at least not one worth taking 5 minutes to explain.  It was almost as long as the elements run together were!

B List Friend

And on to the B List.  I'm going to a wedding this weekend for one of my old roommates from college, which needless to say will be...interesting.  I feel like I handled myself well at the bachelorette party last weekend as I made zero snarky comments, despite ample provocation.  Today I get a call from one of them inviting me to come up and stay with them (tonight mind you, at a city an hour away) because another of the old roommates couldn't make it tonight like planned.  Like, literally said "Well J isn't coming anymore, so now we have room for you if you want to come." How I love the pity invite to the B List friend!

Best surprise ever and a Baby to boot!

Christina came to visit KC last night!  Although I had some notice so it wasn't a complete surprise, it still counts cause I didn't know until Sunday and she visited on Thursday.  We went to dinner with Christina's mom, uncle, cousin, and of course big D (who's got some amazingly curly hair going on).  We tried to go to an Italian deli, which turned out closed before we got there.  I don't know what kind of restaurant closes at 8PM on a Thursday, but evidently its this kind.  But it did give me a chance to show off my knowledge of Kansas City to find another restaurant!  So good to see you Christina!

Stay tuned, eventually I will come up with a story worth of this blog's title