Day 1: I have no legs

There's something to be said about revisiting things you adored, were fascinated by, or that captivated you as a teen or young adult, as an adult. A grown adult. With kids. And a career. And graduate degrees and stuff. Where staying up past 10:00 pm is considered asinine.

I recently revisited the movie Kids for the first time since I was a mere 20 years-old living in Virginia Beach. My life back then involved waiting tables to stay alive and rolling pennies to make rent. Meanwhile, purchasing a bag of grass took about as much forethought as blinking.

Several friends and I snuggled (whether we wanted to or not) on my sectional to take in my inaugural movie club pick. I'm certainly not someone who selects a film involving The Rock or Jackie Chan - I have no idea why I chose those two names to describe what I don't like in a movie. I'm sure both possess qualities in their acting career that really appeal to many movie buffs. Or not.

Side note: Inception was shit no matter which way you slice it.

Whether our own free will or not, the opening scene of Kids? Set the uncomfortable, seat-shifting, gag-reflexing, eye-rolling tone for the 91 minutes each one of us unpleasantly endured. Some of us peered through the fingers we veiled our eyes with while others turned their heads in utter disgust. No matter how we reacted, each one of us simultaneously rattled off how many reasons why THAT IS JUST SO WRONG!

And I still love it.

Holy Wonderful Weekend, Batman!

Here's how small the world is: On my way back to CF from outside of Winterset, I stopped in Des Moines to reunite with three amazing friends. I begin describing my weekend to said friends Leslie, Phil, Reimer, and Sam - who at 13 was far more concerned about the table of cackling 'tweens dressed in dance recital regalia than my stories of fire spinning, cowgirling, and lazy 35-year-old lounging.

Elaborating far further than necessary about The Duchess of Sheets's amazing garden, Leslie stops me. She explains she too knows The Duchess because he gave her a bunch of zucchini one night. Bombarded by my imaginary chorus of "that's what she said's," I remained on topic realizing that Leslie and I not only share our astrological sign and personality similarities, we know the same amazing people.

Sundrenched cheeks, nose, and chest - dubbed "Spring Break," as in, "Braaaaaah, thrashing the pipe at Breck left me with mad goggle face." - I am acclimating to civilization slowly but surely. Against my will.

Spring is in the air

Almost every song coming up on Pandora sounds to me like a track from Lucious Jackson's Fever In, Fever Out. Is it because around this time of year over 10 years ago I was listening to this album with my stay-in-IC-over-spring-break Airliner friends? Seriously. Spring does something to me. When the sun shines and the birds sing I feel the instinctual need to put on a long skirt, sandals, a tank top, hook up with friends, navigate rural gravels, and, well... Who's with me? Better yet, who WAS with me.