St. Patrick's Shenanigans

For St. Patrick's Day, my mother mailed both me and my boyfriend leprechaun hats. A. also received an over-sized, gaudy bow-tie that matched my hat. I received beaded necklaces, complete with attached shamrocks.

To entertain my mother (and amuse myself, for that matter), I thought I would take some pictures of my leprechaun hat on some of the statues around campus here at Purdue.

Class of 1950 Statues

Neil Armstrong

Purdue Union--Steven C. Beering (Purdue's ninth president)

Purdue Union--Martin Jischke (Purdue's tenth president)

Abraham Lincoln bust in Purdue Memorial Union

These last few were taken in front of Lynn Hall of Veterinary Medicine.

Planning--Part 2

The boyfriend is so proud of our spring break trip. I think this is for multiple reasons.

First, he did practically all of the planning. In fact, I am not even going to put a percentage on it, because it is closer to 100% than it is to 90%. At this point in time, I'm just along for the ride--literally.

I suggested the idea for a southern road trip last semester, and--a little more than a week ago--I endorsed the trip. A. has pretty much taken the challenge upon himself, and I certainly give him all the credit for it.

Personally, I like it this way. Me--the woman-in-training--came up with the idea, and he--the 'man,'--planned everything. In the end, I will get a trip that I will greatly enjoy, and he gets the satisfaction of knowing that he did 'everything.' (Despite the fact that visiting the homes of famous authors and the home of a family friend were the ideas of women--me and my mother, respectively.)

Seriously, however--A. has planned the trip. He even mapped out our final, projected trail on Google.

(We start in West Lafayette, Indiana, and return to the same point, which is labeled as 'K'.)

Destinations on this 2,000+ mile road trip include: Memphis, Atlanta, Charleston, and Asheville. We will be visiting the homes of William Faulkner, Tennessee Williams, Margaret Mitchell, Flannery O'Connor, and Thomas Wolfe. We will also be rendezvousing with A.'s father and step-mother, who will be visiting Atlanta the same time we are passing through. Furthermore, we plan to spend our last night with some family friends of mine that I have not seen in more than two years. Spaced between the longer stops are drives through Birmingham and Knoxville; a visit to Folly Beach; and my soon-to-be, first experience with camping (for the purpose of this trip, I have not included the times I have slept in a tent in my backyard).


In a tent.

With A.

This should be interesting.

Hopefully I will survive, provided that we have enough "nest" (I absolutely refuse to sleep on anything less than three pillows. Seriously--my body physically rejects the lack of cushioning headrests by not allowing me to get comfortable and/or fall asleep.) If we were unable to have a lack of bedding, I suppose I could use the boyfriend as a pillow. However, I am hesitant to allow myself near him--incubator that he is--given what he facetiously suggested we name our spring break trip.

Earlier, during a texting-conversation, I mentioned to A. that "We need an 'epic' name of sorts for our adventure." His reply? The Sextacular Week-long Sexcapade.

I shook my head at the suggestion, smiling at it's illogicality. Now, I know that A.'s ideal trip would be one in which I pack no clothes; only a suitcase filled with banana-flavored condoms. That way, I would be naked AND prepared.

However, given the fact that we are a set that consists of a virgin and a born-again-virgin who are both waiting for marriage, I don't think that his suggestion will suffice.

Not to say that his second idea--alluding to the Hillary Clinton, "I Love Country Music" t-shirt--was any better:
The Down South *Hillary Clinton Tree* Tour.

That's also not to say that the innuendo of having rampant sexcapades in the Appalachians is unappealing, however. In fact, I am certain that the allusion of having tent-sex is most appealing to A., Eagle Scout that he is. Part of me believes that he could MacGyver a condom if he wanted to--that is, if we were to ever run out of hypothetical banana-flavored ones.

However, despite the sexually-orientated titles A. jokingly suggested for our road trip, I am sure that we will have an amazing time. I have never been to any of the southern states (with the exception of a vacation to Disney World with my dad when I was twelve), so I am very anxious to get on the road and experience things around me...not in me.


There are two things that happen this week. The first happens tomorrow, on Thursday. That is when I find out whether or not I will be a resident assistant next year. There were more than 500 applicants, and only 100 open positions. I am nervous because--even though I made it through the multiple interviews--I may not get a position. Admittedly, paying for college is quite stressful for me and, honestly, I won't be able to afford school next year if I am not an R.A. This frightens me, because I don't want to continuously draw out the time it takes for me to get an education.

Is it selfish that I am praying for a position?

On a less nerve-wracking topic, however, the second thing that happens this week is the conclusion of my classes (for a time, anyway). Friday is the official cut-off; spring break begins!

A. and I had a lot of options this year, and we quite unsure about what to do, where to go. He was pushing for Canada. In my head, I was thinking,
Canada? You have got to be kidding me. Why did I ever suggest skiing over spring break? I must have been crazy. I don't want to do that. What a waste of a spring break! A. also suggested that, while in Canada, we could visit an underground mall.

Well, that's nice dear...but I am perfectly satisfied with the stores that we have above ground in this country. Besides, an underground mall is just that...a mall. I've been to one in Australia and, let me tell you, it was nothing spectacular. It consisted of stores, a food court, a few more stores, fake trees, fake sunlight, and uncomfortable stone benches.

Now, had the underground mall been built into a cave lit by torches and roaring fires, (I am thinking Lord of the Rings--
Khazad-dûm before the dwarves unearthed a colossal demon) the mall would have been appealing, unlike the four-room/building club A. also suggested visiting. Yes, because the enjoyment I derive from the stench of alcohol, the burn of smoky air, the ear-splitting music, the drunken-men-sloshing, and the girls-in-too-tight-shirt-dresses cannot be contained within one all means, I need four.

I suppose I find it interesting that you, dear boyfriend, thought I might possibly have "fun" at this club. Let's face it--you can't stand me when we go to the one-room dance club here in Indiana. To further elaborate, allow me to say that I smile at your suggestion of your having a brain tumor. Perhaps you do possess one. After all, I wonder if you are/were delusional in thinking that I would enjoy going to a four-room drunken syndication in another country.

Anyway, back to our trip. We had four options, one of which was Canada. The others?

Option 1: Iowa
It was cheap, as we would simply be going back to my hometown and staying with my mother, who was recently injured. Though I have repeatedly offered to come home, she insisted that I "do something fun" with my time. "Home is not fun," she said. "It is boring here. Besides, I don't need you."

"Mom, you can't even get dressed properly. You have one hand."

"Dawn, I'm
fine." She sighed. "Oh! You know how I always put lotion on my hands because they dry out so badly at work?"


"Well, you should have seen me try to get it on my hand yesterday. I just had to give up, because I can't get it anywhere. I can't rub it in, I can't touch it, blah, blah, blah. I just can't use that hand."

"Mom, I'll come home so I can put lotion on your hand, if for no other reason."

Even that didn't work.

Option 2: Route 66
It's adventurous, it's long, it's fun, it's exciting, it's enticing. However, we wouldn't have been able to do the whole thing in a span of a week. That is, we wouldn't be able to "properly" do it, given that A. and I would want to stop in a variety of places and experience our surroundings.

I have no doubt, however, that this is trip that we will take on at another time...

Ultimately, with Route 66 out and my mother declaring Iowa "non-optional," that led us to...

Option 3: Southern Authors Road Trip (We need to come up with some monumentally memorable name for this trip, I think.)

This road trip spawned from an idea that one of my friends had last summer. Taking a few weeks off of work, he headed south with the intentions of backpacking part of the Appalachian Trail, kayaking down some river, and visiting the homes of both Flannery O'Connor and William Faulkner. However, given his inability to plan things, the trip turned out to be somewhat of a disaster, and he wrongly accused the staff of both homes of "not being welcoming."

In hopes that I would have a better time, I brought up the suggestion to A. last semester and--lo and behold--that is precisely what we are doing.

I could not be more excited.

That is, I am incredibly excited despite my outward appearance, which currently sports gnawed fingernails, a droopy, glazed-over right eye, a twitch in my cheek, and an orange, Goldfish-cracker crumb perched in the ledge between my lips and mouth.

Yes, I do think it is time for a break.

I look ever so much forward to it, my dear.
« »

Candidly Clyde All rights reserved © Blog Milk Powered by Blogger