kis•met \ˈkiz-ˌmet, -mət\ - noun; often capitalized

1. fate.


it was an ex-caboose

Once upon a time {this weekend} we went to Oklahoma/Kansas for my brother in law's wedding. We made reservations at a place in Yukon, Oklahoma called the Red Rooster Guest Cabooses. It was a bed and breakfast where you get to stay in a renovated and remodeled train caboose that's been turned into a little hotel room. 

Cute, right?
We drove from Salt Lake City to Yukon, arrived on Friday afternoon, and couldn't find it. After driving up and down the road for a little bit, we finally noticed it. It had been completely destroyed. Three days before we arrived, a tornado made a direct hit to the cabooses and the inn. The red caboose you see in the picture was turned on its side, but stopped by the tree directly in front of it. The yellow caboose was on its side about forty feet away from its original spot. There was debris everywhere. It was insane. And me, being the genius that I am, forgot to bring my camera on the trip so there aren't any pictures of it. I remembered that I forgot the camera when we were about halfway there. Luckily there was a hotel a little ways down the road that we were able to get a room in.


you scream, we scream . . .

I just might have a new favorite:

"red velvet cake batter ice cream with red velvet cake pieces 
and a cream cheese frosting swirl"


I am from the south. I love barbecue. That is all.


do you hear the people sing?

We saw Les Miserables in Salt Lake, and it was, in a (few) word(s), amazing, fantastic, beautiful, heartbreaking, and enchanting. Fantine's "I Dreamed a Dream" in the first act brought me to tears. And the resounding cries of "Red Black" made me want to run to the stage and join in the barricade. And, of course, the raw emotion of "Do You Hear the People Sing?" reduced me to a blubbering mess again. "Bring Him Home" was so emotion-charged and gorgeous, as it always is. Then there was the finale, where I found myself on the edge of my chair, heart racing, barely able to breathe. The way it begins so softly and then crescendos into that powerful anthem is something to behold. There is nothing quite like seeing a show live. The energy, emotion and power that comes from a live performance is unmatched by anything else. It got my standing ovation, which I don't readily give to just any performance. It has to blow me away and move my soul to warrant my standing up. It did. On both accounts. So I stood up.


my favorite.

I have a friend named Toni. I've never met her, but I know her. I know her through her writing. And I'm on a first-name basis with her. {As I am with Sylvia, Aldous, Zora, Edgar, William . . .} Well, she was on Oprah last week, and I almost fell off the couch when Oprah introduced her, I was so excited. And I may or may not have squealed like a twelve-year-old fan girl at a Justin Bieber concert, thrown my hands in the air, and almost cried. She's a good friend. Toni has meant the world to me since the first time I read Beloved waaaay back in the twelfth grade. She is the epitome of all things I consider wise. She always says the most thought-provoking things, and they always make perfect sense. I guess that's what comes with being eighty years old and a Nobel Prize winner. The more you think about what she says, the more you realize how wise, and how right she is. Also, she has that fantastic story-teller voice. I could listen to her talk all day long. The latest and greatest words of wisdom from her that I've acquired and implemented into my own personal beliefs is something she said while telling a story about her son.

"Do you light up when a child enters the room?"

Think about that for a minute. She genius, right? Tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this woman is brilliant. She continued to talk about the importance of showing people (especially children) how we feel about them, instead of simply telling them. You can tell someone something, but until you show them, there might be doubts about what you say.

Toni continued to talk about the importance of finding something to do that is purely for yourself and for your own enjoyment. Find that space that is sacred, she said, and only for you, where you can escape and completely be yourself. For her, she said, it's writing. But it could by anything you enjoy doing. Anything at all. I dare you to find that space if you haven't already. I believe it is essential to our survival as women. And please read Toni's books if you haven't. They are incredible.



Inspiration can come in the craziest, and most unexpected of ways. In the crazy hustle of life, we often get so caught up in our own lives that we forget the manners our parents (hopefully) taught us, and forget to think about other people. I'm guilty. You're guilty. We all are. Today I went to Wal-Mart that awful store that takes forever where no one is nice and you feel trapped like you're never getting out and will die in that store unless the checkers stationed at the four registers that are open out of twenty-something that exist will ever hurry it up a bit so we can get out of the store before we age and become elderly and our frozen foods melt in our buggies and expire and we have to wander back into the aisles to replace the spoiled food in our hands only to start the whole exiting process over again and no one would want that now would they? Anyway, I was standing in line with my five or six items gathered in my arms, behind a lady who had a full buggy of groceries and other mismatched items. To my surprise, she turned around, looked at me, and said, "You go ahead of me. You have way less than I do." Then she proceeded to let the lady behind me go before her too because that woman also only had an item or two. I was floored. Very appreciative, but nonetheless, floored. It made me wish that more people would be considerate of others. The more I interact with people, the more I realize that finding those kinds of people who will let you cut in front of them in line at the store are a rare gem. Hold on to those people. Try to be like them. You just might make a difference.


Oh, Oprah.

Dear Oprah,

You made me cry every single day last week. Today is no exception either. It's day one of your two-day farewell celebration, so I'm expecting a good cry again tomorrow. Maybe I'm just over-emotional because Husband's gone? Wednesday is a no-brainer, as it's your last.episode.ever...whatwillidowithmylife? Thanks for being there with me every afternoon.


Beyonce's performance was FIERCE. Can I please be her? kidding.kindof.maybe.


tastes like home.

Just in case the slightly completely insane idea of the world ending tomorrow actually happens (spoiler: it won't) I had a great day. My cats have spent all day following me around and cuddling on the couch next to me. I bought some new (desperately needed) makeup. Result! I put a pork loin in the crock pot this morning, and seven hours later shredded it and smothered it in Maurice's sauce. Massive success. I ate a BBQ sandwich and drank coke out of my Gamecocks tumbler while watching Gilmore girls. All the while counting down the time until I get to go pick up Spencer from the airport. (it's down to two and a half hours,  in case you were wondering). Not to mention I spent the last week in South Carolina. Life is good.

P.S. huge shout out to my awesome friend breanna for taking such good care of my kitties while i was gone.


u-s-c go cocks!

 sorry for the bad quality. the cell phone is all i had on me at the time.

i met cocky at my friend's wedding reception - that's right, cocky came to the reception. we made the tunnel for him to run through. the dj played "2001", cocky entered in all of his cocky-ness, and then the fight song played with everyone singing and cheering along. what i consider to be the most exciting entrance in college football happened mere feet away from me - at a wedding reception, no less. life complete? i think so. i mean, what carolina fan doesn't aspire to meet and take a picture with cocky?
good day. good day.


time to travel.

I'm going to the airport now.

Later this afternoon I will be here:

Oh, happy day.


Remembering Wouter.

I'm not a huge sports person. I enjoy the Olympics (but who doesn't?) and I do get into college football some (only if Carolina is playing) but the one sport I really really love is professional cycling. I've been watching Le Tour de France (amongst other races) for as long as I can remember. I love everything about the sport. Although sometimes people forget how dangerous cycling really is. They hurtle down mountain roads and take those sharp turns at highway speeds. Yesterday, the cycling world got a sobering reminder of just how dangerous the sport really is. In the 3rd stage of the Giro d'Italia, Wouter Weylandt crashed on a high-speed descent. The crash killed him. He was twenty-six years old, survived by his girlfriend who is expecting their first child in September. Johan Bruyneel's blog post about the accident is both a poignant and touching tribute to Wouter.

read it here.



In four days I will be in my lovely South Carolina.

That is all.


Thank you, Jonathan Larson.

Confession: I get all choked up every single time I hear this:
Especially when I've just listened to the whole show, watched the movie, or the last Broadway performance.
It gets me every time, without fail. I usually start crying when Angel dies, and I don't stop until the very end.

RENT is, without a doubt, my favorite musical. There's just something about it that speaks to my soul. Heart-wrenching melodies. Real, raw characters. The absolutely perfectly casted OBC. The lyrics. Oh, goodness, the lyrics. Can't we just all marvel at the genius that is the script and libretto of RENT? All of the masterfully crafted songs tell the story of truth, love, and living without regrets. What a beautiful message. RENT changed me. In a way I can't even find the words to explain. Perhaps it's that the message RENT gives - to live without regrets - is something I want to do. I connect with those characters on some emotional level. (A testament to Jonathan Larson's talent, no doubt.) I feel as though I know them. I do. Perfectly embodied by the OBC, they brought life to Larson's masterpiece. My only wish is that I could have seen it live before it closed. Tragically, Larson was never able to see his work performed either. He died in the early morning hours of the day RENT opened off-Broadway. Perhaps that is why RENT is so touching. RENT is essentially his own eulogy - representing everything important to him. His life lives on through his musical legacy, and for that I am thankful. 
My life would not be the same without it.

If you've never seen RENT or listened to it, please, do yourself a favor and get acquainted with it. It will change your life.


:: Teacher Appreciation Week ::

In honor of Teacher Appreciation Week {2 May - 6 May}, there are several I'd like to thank.

All of my high school English teachers. Each of you uniquely inspired me to get my degree in English.

Mrs. English, 
You drilled grammar into our heads and marked up our papers with your red pen. Thank you for pushing me to be a better writer. It worked.

Mrs. Team,
You taught us to think about things in such different ways. I appreciate your creativity in the classroom, and your ways of making me appreciate literature I thought I wouldn't like.

Mrs. Campbell,
You are responsible for strengthening my vocabulary with your stems and roots tests. Thank you for singing in the classroom, and helping me understand my first encounter with Macbeth, and introducing me to the wonderful world of Oscar Wilde.

Mrs. McAvoy,
Thank you for introducing me to more advanced literature. I honestly loved every single book we read in that class. I especially thank you for introducing me to the works of Toni Morrison. Changed my life.

Mrs. Thornton "Mac" (McDaniel),
Thank you for making history fun and enjoyable. Don't ever lose your snarky personality. Your class was always so interesting, and I learned so much. Thanks for keeping up with me, too. It means so much to me.

I couldn't continue this post without thanking Mr. Glenn Price

Mr. Price,
I perhaps spent more time with you in high school than I did at home. Thank you for all of your wise life lessons taught through your Mr. Price-isms and your stories. They apply everywhere, and I think of at least one daily. I cannot think of a teacher who has had a bigger impact on my life than you. Thank you for everything. I would not be the person I am today had I not known you. And just so you know, I still listen with my eyes. Always.

And to round off the post, my thanks to Dr. Gloria Cronin

Dr. Cronin,
You introduced me to Postmodern Literature, and for that I will be forever grateful. You cultivated my love for it, and encouraged me to work hard to make myself a better writer, reader, and academic. Thank you for those talks in your office, and being a mentor to me. You were definitely the biggest influence on my college career, and I will be forever changed for the better because of the things you taught me.

Take some time to thank your teachers this week. 
We wouldn't be where we are without them.


the cats like to spoon and sleep on our bed.

No, I don't think they could be any cuter. Thanks for asking.

So maybe I'm a little camera-happy for the cats.
But can you really blame me?
More pictures and cat-anecdotes to come.


all lovey-dovey

So I know I'm a few days late, but can't we all just ooh and ahh over Prince William and Princess Kate a little bit more? 
Indeed, I think we can.
I mean, just look at them:
1. They are adorable together. I loved how they kept looking at each other and smiling through the whole thing.
2. I simply cannot get over how much I love her dress. Seriously, I've been drooling over it for the past few days.

Did you watch it? Did you love it? How could you not with all the pomp and circumstance?


i'm back.

"The girl married the prince, and the bad guy died. This week is sponsored by Disney."

via reddit.

We have the internet now. I feel so out of the loop, but I'm thoroughly enjoying catching up on all of the goings on of the world. More posts and pictures of the cats coming soon.