The Positive Post

After days of unpacking and breaking down boxes, we're all settled in.

We are so happy with our apartment, which is even better than we expected from our first tour back in April. After the kitchen we had at Devon apartments, this one is chef's dream. OK, no, it isn't; but it is OUR dream, as we're dreaming on a budget. We also have THREE closets, four if you count the creepy one on our patio that doesn't lock and might have harbored a dead body at one time.

The bedroom is huge, the tub isn't from the 19th century (a negative on days when I'm playing at being especially Victorian), and best of all, WE HAVE A WASHER AND DRYER.

This is what we look like. (This is not what our washer looks like.)

And even if this isn't home, it's got the feel of home with the two of us, our Harry Potter books, and our pictures.

We are so thankful to have gotten here safely and without any hiccups in our giddy up. I was just sitting on the front steps of our building today thinking about how glad I am for what we have saved and what we have been given that's made it possible for us to live in a safe, quiet area. And not only that, but we've made some runs to the grocery store and have stocked our fridge and cabinets with food.

If I'm not mistaken, having food and a place to rest safely are some of the most basic human needs, and we are more than satisfied there.

As far as our other needs go, we visited a church on Sunday. It's called New Hope Community Church; a non-denominational satellite church here in Pikesville. They meet in an old stone chapel, named Old Stone Chapel, located on Stone Chapel Road. The most interesting piece of information, however, is not mentioned in any of those names, and it is the very old CEMETERY located on either side of the path leading to the front door.

I can't really explain the experience of walking past the graves on the way to the door. It was very sobering, and at the same time very moving to be walking on ground in which, nearly 100 years before, people were burying their loved ones. The small plot of land felt removed from time, and yet more real than anything else I had experienced so far in MD. Everyone dies, everything returns to dust, but it isn't the end.

Anyway, we're planning on visiting some other places on the Sundays to come.

Steven has started looking up job options for me, which is both exciting and scary. Prayers would be appreciated there. *sweaty palms*

We went to the library today and, though it was a little disappointing in its variety and odor, we came away with some good books which I expect will help to ease the home sickness a bit.

Cooking for two is an art I have yet to master, as evidenced by our growing stack of leftovers in the fridge.

Two of our neighbors, we've never seen. A man across the hall helped us get the piano up and down the stairs and into our apartment, but has since disappeared... (related?)... Our upstairs neighbor greeted us by saying "Oh, you'll hate it here. I wish you had asked me before moving in; I would have told you not to." She's a little crazy, a lot lonely, and a TON "cat lady." She's opened her apartment to us, should we need anything, and gifted us a few (ugly) plants.

All in all, there is more good in this than bad.

We miss you all and invite you to come visit as soon as you can.

Seriously, we're desperate for friends.

Can't you tell?

The Negative Post

I've adopted a new phrase since our move -one that has nothing to do with becoming a hip Baltimorean and everything to do with how moving has reduced me to a child- and it is:

"I hate this."

I know. So negative, so immature. But maybe you're shaking your head, thinking At least she isn't puffing out her bottom lip, raising her voice into a whine, and stamping her foot...

Oh, but I am.

You see, it's easy to be ridiculous in isolation. Tucked away in our gated* community, stashed away in our corner apartment, we are alone and I am at liberty to express just how completely done I am with...

...And this is where the list would be:

______
______
______

And it would be long.

Because the truth is, I miss Topeka's library. I miss midwestern drivers and the open space around the highways. I miss I-70, God bless it, and Wanamaker for how user friendly it actually is. I miss our family. I miss my friends. I miss being in a place where I once had friends. I miss the beef and the dairy, just because that's very Kansas of me. I miss Kroger brand.

Suddenly, I understand the fierce pride people have in their homestate. I know what it feels like to be walking down the aisle of a grocery store or to be standing in front of the DVDs at the Baltimore library reading the sign that says "$1.00 a day," thinking "Bulls**t. This would NOT happen in Topeka." I've even gone so far as to say to people, "Well, in Topeeekaaaa..."

Topeka is awesome! Topeka is better than all of Maryland!

Kansas, beloved Mother, today in an alien land,
Yours is the name I have idly traced with a bit of wood in the
sand,
The name, that, flung from a scornful lip, will make the hot
blood start;
The name that is graven, hard and deep, on the core of my
loyal heart.

-excerpt from The Call of Kansas, Esther M. Hill




*Not actually gated very often.

Meet the Katies

They are two of the finest ladies I know, and tonight is our night!

The Debris of Dissociation

My family recently made the decision to no longer be members of the church we've attended for thirteen years.

It feels like a divorce. Or what I imagine a divorce might feel like, and that is "awful." And so weird.

In the early stages of the situation, I felt far removed and objective. I was able to listen to my mom and say things like "mm hmm, man, that is so ridiculous." Or "wow, that's hard," and I didn't really feel much beyond sadness for my parents. I was, after all, an every-other-week attender, going to my husband's church on the off sundays and so already had one foot out the door.

But also, nothing feels real until it is final.

Our last Sunday was hard. At every moment I was thinking, this is the last time __________ will ______________. or, I will never sit here, stand here, sing here with these people again. And that's when I really started to pay attention to what we were leaving:

People.

People, people, people.

People I love and have loved since elementary school. Friends who joked with me or cried for me or drank coffee with me, and none of them who knew that we would not be back. And then, some people who let me down, let my parents and my brothers down.

After the service ended, I went out into the commons and tried to act like I always have, except that I wanted to hug some people real close and say "I am going to miss you," "Thank you for coming to my high school musicals," "I really think you're special," and because I couldn't I had a pain in my throat.

I could go on now and say things that I should about how God is so faithful and triple omni-good, and that even though I'm disappointed I am looking forward to _____________________. But I'm so bad at goodbyes, I hold grudges, and I hurt for a long time. An elephant never forgets, you know?

All those things my mom was talking about have just caught up with me and I can't help thinking of ways I might make a scene.

If I go quietly, will they even know that I'm gone... Will they even care?

So this is my small moment to say that I'm sad about all of it and I know I will think of it for a long time. I will wonder about those people and how they've moved on... and how they step around the debris.

My pictures are worth so many words.

As a newlywed couple, recently unemployed and planning to move in the next month, we sure are two of the busiest coons you ever did see. *knee splap*
This is in part due to the fact that the majority of our friends are twenty-somethings looking to tie the knot (as it were), but also because we took the Spice Girls' lyrics to heart and are spicing up our life. (Don't deny it, Steven.)

Here's the thing, as a consequence of the aformentioned spicier life -and this is where it gets tricky for you as the reader- I have a LOT to say. We've done one fantastic, beautiful thing after another and it's worth talking about!... but it makes for long-winded stories. Luckily, my camera goes where we go and sees what we see, which means (mathemetically speaking, ahem): a LOT to say divided by pictures from my camera equals more show than tell. Let's get to it!

This is on the way to Colorado Springs for a wedding of one of Steven's best Peace Corps friends. This was our first road trip as a husband and wife, which means that we had a ton of snacks! We also got awesome gas mileage and enjoyed leaving the dark Kansas skies behind us.

Here we are doing Xtreme sports at Garden of the gods. Basically this means that we straddled some red rocks while talking like pro-wrestlers. "Xxxxxxtreeeeemmmeee Spppp(spit)ooorts!" If you are ever in Colorado, go here.

We also did something called 20 Mile High bike ride. If you are thinking that we biked twenty miles, up hill, you are giving us way too much credit. This is a special bike tour where a nice man in a rickety van drives you and your bike twenty miles up a mountain, drops you off, and lets you go! If you have ever ridden down a hill and loved it, go to the mountains and give it a try! We're talking 2.5 hours of nothing but the wind in your hair and the sun burning your calves!

But truly, we got to ride through old mining tunnels and linger at heart-stopping views to our hearts content.

And then, of course, we went to an amazing wedding.

Next! Dun da da DUN! We went to the Mumford and Sons concert with some good friends, the Yates's... ess. It was at City Market, on a hot "spring" evening, with ten thousand other people, and it was great! I feel I should mention, however, the absurd attitude of many towards tall people who attend concerts. Never have I seen so much anger directed at the back of another's... back because their height made it hard to see. Girls glaring at guys, guys glaring at girls! People accidently bumping in to their neighbor to send a little message saying, "I just want you to know that you're ruining my night. And it may not be your fault, but it is all. your. fault."

OK, it's late and I'm tired. I'll post more soon. Thanks for reading, for checking in every once in awhile even though it takes me ages to update! Happy summer days, everyone! Love, McK

To squeeze your brain

Steven and I recently went to the library and I left with a stack of books. I eat one up and wash it down with another; they are so good! And the more I read, the more I want to read, but more than that, I want to write.

I'm not sure what I want to write. I can't think of a theme for my blog, but it seems like the most succesful blog writers have a specific horn they blow. I suspect if my blog is only ever about me and what I feel and think and smell, it will go thiiiiiiis far. (not far)

Who is my target audience and what do they want to hear about? It probably has to be people experiencing things similar to what I'm experiencing, right? And let's just face it, it isn't going to be an inspirational cooking blog or travel blog (at least not yet).

Maybe this blog should be about you. Volunteers, anyone?

By the by, here is one of, oh, a TRILLION photos our photographer took. Is very nice, no?

Signs of a good life

It’s difficult to be candid with my blog when my readership is made up of my husband, a few close friends, and my mothers… If I say this they’ll a) worry about me b) question my sanity c) bemoan my potty-mouth or d) all of the above. But lately, I have been so all over the place emotionally, if I don't say something, I will implode-explode and take all of you down with me.

You see, here I am at this crazy huge transition in my life -by which I mean “a handful of basic life transitions that I’m handling as well as a punch to the boob"- and I'm sad. I've gotten married (awww) one of the most amazing things ever, and the wedding party is over, people. Just about every single person I love was in the same building, for one evening, celebrating with us, eating, dancing, laughing... and then with a deep sigh, it ended.

Did we drive down the street, pull over in to a McDonald's parking lot, and consider turning back around to rejoin the party after our sparkler exit? Yes. Hell. Yes.

Our wedding was amazing. Having hundreds of people tell me I looked beautiful was awe.some. Flitting from table to table like a celebrity bride who glamourously does NOT have enough time for pictures (well maybe just one) is the best!

And I know what you're thinking. Waa waa, so you are really blessed and you had a memorable night! Own it and move on. Let some other people get married already.

And you're right. The fact that I miss our wedding just goes to show that we had a wedding worth missing.

But this leads me on to say that the older one gets (shut up, I know I'm 22), the fewer and farther inbeteween are the epic parties. What's left after our wedding? Our kids' birthdays? Our 50th wedding anniversary? Turning 70? AS IF! And when the next party comes around, where will all of our loved ones be?

Our friends are graduating and moving and embracing their own adventures. I mean, WE'RE moving, for goodness sake, and looking forward to that has my evolution into a mature adult spiraling into reverse. I constantly have to fight the urge to stand in the middle of the grocery store and cry "I want my mom!"

Where is everyone going and why is it happening so fast? How has it been a month since we said our vows? Why does this life go so quickly?

These are the thoughts I have constantly looping through my head and I have GOT to figure out what to do with them.

Up until now I've been letting them fill every space I'm in until I can't hardly breathe. I'm mourning and I'm not always sure why. And so I've decided that I'm going to try to start using my insight for good instead of evil.

I'm so happy for my friends, of which I have many, and I want these good things for them.

The east coast has sea food, and for that I am grateful.

My brothers cannot stay little forever and my parents cannot always hold my hand.

I cannot stop time, but I can stop wearing a watch.

And, in the words of my wonderful and wise high school choir director: "You have to make your own party."

You have to make your own party.