“Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters…”

I love my cousins so very much, and I love observing the love they show each other and the special relationship they share as sisters. Yesterday I was privileged to help Aliza prepare for and execute Natalie’s bridal shower; said shower was simply more evidence of their deep and Godly love for one another.

As usual I was silly and forgot to bring my camera (has no one noticed the decided lack of pictures on this site?) and was, thus, unable to document the event. Hopefully someone else will post pictures soon and I can link to those. Without pictures to clarify descriptions, all I can say is that I was blown away by Aliza’s planning and attention to detail, not to mention her style and excellent taste! (And organization, I really liked that too.) Although we (family and bridesmaids) were kept busy for quite a few hours preparing for the party, it still seemed as though there was very little to do as Aliza had a lot of details pre-prepared and ready to put together. Everything tied back to a classic yet mod black and white theme with green details: white tablecloths, napkins, plates and serving dishes, black and white runners (cunningly made from wrapping paper!), white Chinese takeout boxes to hold individual portions of pasta salad, miniature black and white dresses on black stands to hold quotes or food labels, green grass centerpieces in an eclectic yet coordinating collection of containers, green napkin rings, etc, etc, etc. I find I can’t describe all the details well enough to recreate the whole picture and do it justice!

Putting my poor attempts to set the scene aside, the shower was a lovely (if loud) affair and provided the perfect opportunity for us (a mix of 50 friends, family members, co-workers, etc) to affirm Natalie, lift her (and Chad) up in prayer, and, of course, shower them with gifts. It also provided a lovely stage for Aliza and Sherry to deliver their version of Natalie and Chad’s story, aided by many quotes from our family’s favorite movies (Singin’ in the Rain, Anne of Green Gables, The King and I, Sound of Music, White Christmas, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, North and South, Our Mutual Friend, The Princess Bride, etc, etc, etc). Of course, that meant some people were a little lost at times, but it was a hysterical and well written (and well performed!) piece. It’s memories and moments like these that remind me how much I love being part of my family.

Natalie’s shower (and Aliza’s amazing work) also served as a great reminder that I need to get my butt in gear! I have been such a lazy procrastinator since I arrived home but I need to get over that now! Job searching, wedding planning, writing, catching up with friends…I need and want to do these things and do them well and in a timely fashion. My friend Holly’s latest email reminded me that “time and tide” wait for no man,” helping me realize that they certainly won’t wait for me! So, prayers would be appreciated as I make renewed attempt at productivity and responsibility. Pray for Nate and my mom as they have MRI’s this week, and pray for Chris and his job interview on Monday.

Cheers,

Katherine Elyse

“Time may change me, but I can’t trace time…”

Well, Chris and I have been back for a little over a week now. It’s a little strange, being back. Not strange in the sense that I need to readjust to Western culture or how or order food without doing it in Spanish or anything, but strange in the sense that I’ve been counting down to being home for so long that it feels strange to finally be home and no longer counting down.

The biggest stress about re-entry is the realization that I’m back to “real life;” I need to find a job, plan a wedding, catch up with loved ones and find time to do the odd little things I want to do (but which, I realize, aren’t priority one right now). We’ve spent the past week (mostly) relaxing–first at my house and now at Chris’s. Unfortunately, Chris has managed to be somewhat productive, which makes my current, lazy state look all the lazier. I don’t know why I feel the need to procrastinate on important things, though I wonder if I’m procrastinating on the job search because I don’t have a good idea of What I Want To Do With My Life and therefore want to put off finding just Any Old Job (which, odds are, won’t relate to my interests and I won’t like). Plus job searching falls under that vast category of Things I Don’t Really Know How To Do. Wedding planning lives there too…but it’s more fun…for now.

My current kick (which does count as procrastination, even though it may one day become useful) is looking at articles and photo slideshows on Country Living’s and Better Homes and Gardens’ websites, gathering ideas for decorating and organizing whatever space we (Chris and I) end up renting. I’m not super girly or crafty, but I love looking at the vast arrays of ideas and suggestions and thinking “I could do that” or “I could modify that so it’s less nauseating and frilly but still keeps the awesome functional aspects.” I realize that I should definitely learn to do some basic sewing. I also realized that I need to learn the fine art of bargain shopping (yard sales, garage sales, flea markets, clearances, going out of business sales, etc, etc, etc). I mean, I look at sites where people show their fantastic finds from yard sales or Goodwill and think, “what magical land do they bargain shop in? All I find when I go to Goodwill is ugly rubbish, how do they find these amazing pieces? WHERE are they shopping?” Ugh. But I digress.

On the same vein (decorating/organizing), I’m finding that I not only enjoy drawing designs/ideas for our “Some Day” apartment or dream house, but I like looking at existing spaces/messes and drawing ideas for how I think they could be improved and organized. I don’t think I’ll ever be an interior decorator, but maybe someone could invent a job where I come in, make people throw out all their junk and help them reorganize and improve their current spaces. And maybe decorate…a little. So, maybe someone could get to work inventing that job and hiring me for it, yes?

Continuing in the realm of random: I’ve received my first payment from Associated Content (a little over $2.00!). The payment I receive for writing for AC is not likely to make me rich, or even provide a decent income, but it’s fun pocket change and a good opportunity to improve my online-writing-skills. And, you know, receive angry comments. Yay.

Further random: Chris and I are giving up soft drinks (soda). Why? Because we found ourselves drinking one (or more) a day down in Bolivia (due to a variety of reasons: it’s cheap, it’s safer than water, it tastes delicious…) and realized that this was not a habit to take back to the States. And while I’ve never liked thinking about dieting or eating healthily, I do realize that cutting soda out will probably be a great thing for me. And after a week without soda I’m still not dead, so I have hopes that I can keep this up. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the refreshing taste of Coca Cola. ‘Cause I do. A lot. I may write a ballad.

So to sum up: we’ve been back for a week, Chris is busy job searching, I’m busy procrastinating and instead slowly mutating into Martha Stewart, and we’re doing this all without the aid of soft drinks.

So…changes are a-brewin’. Pray that we find jobs; pray that we find jobs that we will be happy doing and that will provide adequate payment for our needs…and that Chris could find one in the Harrisburg area. Pray for wedding plans (ours as well as Natalie and Chad’s). Pray that we adjust well to once again living hours away from each other. Pray for the Lindquists as they finish out their time in Bolivia, and as Josiah continues to do better and better (read the latest news here). And praise the Lord for bringing us home safe and sound!

Cheers,

Katherine Elyse

After six months I can hardly believe that I’m almost home! Yet, despite my disbelief, I’m writing this from a food court in the Miami International Airport, listening to the repetitive loudspeaker reminders to: not leave baggage unattended, not to agree to carry anything for a stranger, to remember the rules for liquids in your carry on…blah blah blah.

I was very nervous about the first leg of our journey (Bolivia to Miami) as it wouldn’t really be “our” journey. Chris left early Monday morning to catch a flota to La Paz where he would catch a flight that night to Santa Cruz and then on to Miami. Meanwhile I would stay in Coch until that evening when I would take a flight to Santa Cruz where I would catch my connecting flight to Miami. I was not looking forward to being alone on the leg of the journey when I would most need Chris’s help (especially his Spanish language skills). However, God answered my prayers regarding the travel and everything has gone very smoothly thus far. The only kerfluffle came on my overnight flight from Santa Cruz to Miami when (maybe…half an hour after take off?) it became digustingly, unavoidably, obnoxiously apparent that one of the American passengers was very, VERY drunk. When the flight attendants (the majority of which were, blessedly, tall, capable looking men instead of wispy, coiffed stewardesses) finally wrestled his large bottle of duty-free whiskey away from him it was over half empty. Thus we (the other passengers, flight attendants, and I) were subjected to roughly an hour of his cursing, ranting, roaming the aisles, maligning anyone and everyone who came to mind, sharing that he already had a felony on his record, etc, etc as the flight attendants tried to keep him in check while still performing their normal duties. By the end of it I wanted to stand up and apologize to the other nationalities on our flight on behalf of America; he was just such a stereotypical example of an obnoxious American, amplified by lots and lots of alcohol. (One “funny” moment came when a flight attendant tried to get him to drink some water and he refused on the grounds that there was no alcohol in it. Yeah.)

Anywho. I think this post will remain rather short and boring, but it’s about time that Chris and I moved towards our gate to wait for boarding.

Besides, I hope to (also) be telling some stories in person from now on.

Cheers,

Katherine Elyse

So I said I would update once a week…and then Chris and I took off for Sucre and that was the end of that. So here’s a Reader’s Digest Condensed version of our week in Sucre, complete with more pictures than you could possibly want.

We left for Sucre Wednesday, June 16th at 8:30 p.m. Our mode of transportation? Flota. For those not in the know, a flota is a night bus. Comfortable? No. Working toilet? No. Enough bathroom breaks? No. Conducive to sleep? Absolutely not. Therefore, as soon as we arrived at the Wardens’ (FH missionaries who kindly hosted us) apartment we crashed for a few hours before spending the rest of Thursday exploring a few parks and public areas (Plaza 25 de Mayo, Parque Bolivar), and ending it all with a scrumptious dinner at a small restaurant we found up at the Recoleta.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday we got up early to catch the Dino Truck that would take us slightly outside of Sucre to visit the Parque Cretacico, a small museum/park dedicated to the dinosaur tracks discovered at that site. Though relatively small in size it was a novel experience to see the dinosaur tracks on the expansive cliff wall (formerly horizontal tracks had been pushed vertical due to shifts in the earth over time, and the tracks were discovered while mining for raw materials) and to look at all the dinosaur models that peppered the grounds. We ended one novel experience only to walk right into another when we arrived back in Sucre. We were walking back towards one of the main plazas in search of some food when our eyes began to burn, sting and water profusely. Our confusion ebbed when we saw tear gas containers and police in riot gear farther up the road. There were still other pedestrians out on the street, so we continued past young men carrying rocks and ensconced ourselves in Cafe Amsterdam where we waited out some more tear gas and amused ourselves with food, drink, cards, and the World Cup. While back at the apartment, dining with the Wardens, we learned that the tear gas (and burning tires, which we did not see firsthand) were the result of university students rioting over a kerfluffle involving the ousting of the former mayor of Sucre, and the appointment of a new mayor by less-than-democratic means.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday started off with a few kerfluffles of their own. First we were treated to the lovely, peaceful sounds of Sucre’s annual street race (that’s right, cars and motorcycles racing at high, dangerous speeds through crowded city streets with little to nothing to stop them from careening into a crowd if they miss a turn). Luckily our breakfast spot of the day was behind one of the few (only?) safety precautions: a wall of sandbags. After breakfast we took a micro outside of the city again, this time to try and visit the Castle. Oh, you noticed I said try, did you? That’s because it was closed. No real reason given, even though we arrived during their posted business hours. So Chris thought it would be fun to wander around the area a little bit. Well, turns out it was a military base and they didn’t think it was too fun that two gringos were just wandering around. My question: have they ever heard of a “Keep Out” sign? Maybe “Private Government Property?” We took things a little slower for the rest of the day; we played cards and relaxed in Parque Bolivar before joining the Wardens for dinner at Hong Kong (the restaurant, not the city).

 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday we went to church with the Wardens before having yet another bit of “excitement.” On our way back we came across a street where we could see the motorcycle race pass. (Yes, Saturday was only Day 1 of the street races.) We stopped for John Warden and Chris to take pictures of the bikes as they passed. The speed of the racers was incredible: incredibly fast and incredibly stupid. Not to mention that, between riders, people would mingle out into the street or meander across. True, there were flaggers to warn them when the next bike was coming…but seriously? Then the unthinkable happened. I had turned to look at Chris, who was raising the camera to capture a shot of the approaching bike when a commotion from down the street drew my attention away. I turned, just in time to jump out of the way of a body that was careening down the street towards me; Chris moved out of the way too and we watched in horror as the body of an old man came to a stop ten or more yards down the street from us. John had been standing closer to the initial scene and told us that the old man had simply walked out right as the bike was passing, despite the obvious sound of an approaching cycle and the flagger’s warning. My memory of the event is jumbled and blurred by fear and adrenaline and disbelief; what I clearly remember is sitting, shell shocked, during lunch, listening to John and Jenny say that we’re lucky that the cyclist didn’t have time to react, otherwise he may have accidently veered the bike into the crowd and towards us. It was an odd thing to be grateful for and made me feel like a horrible person, especially when we learned (the next day) that the old man had died of head injuries. After such a horrible afternoon it was a relief to revisit Hong Kong with Chris and see the beauty of the fountain/light show at Parque Bolivar that night.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Monday was a public holiday so we had a much quieter day. We had a leisurely morning/afternoon of souvenir shopping and playing with the Wardens’ young daughter Ella (which only made me miss my nieces…and their mother…and their auntie). We took the Wardens’ recommendation and went to dinner at a local steak house (for lack of better term) called Pica Buey: so good! The meal was gigantic and I still can’t believe how much we ate.

 
 
 
 
 
 

Tuesday we stumbled upon what became our favorite breakfast spot: Cafe Abis. Fairly cheap “American” breakfast: fried eggs, toast with butter and jam, bacon, ham, tea or coffee and fresh fruit juice. That morning we also went to visit the FH office where Chris worked last summer. Unfortunately several of the people he wanted to see were not in, but we got to sit in on part of devotions, meet a few people and take a tour of the office. Later in the day we went on to tour the Casa de la Libertad (Freedom House) where I opted not to pay to take pictures. After that we went to the Museo de Arte Indigena (Indigenous Art Museum) where I took a few pictures despite not knowing if it was allowed. I’m rarely in a museum mood, so I wasn’t surprised that I got a little bored, but there were certainly interesting aspects to both locations. We continued the good food streak with ice cream at Parque Bolivar (I got a great flavor–tumbo–that we can’t seem to find a translation/equivalent for) and dinner at Chris’s favorite pizza joint, Napolitan.

 
 
 
 

Wednesday was one of my favorite days. We signed up for a horseback riding tour with an organization called Joy Ride. We ended up being the only ones on the tour (besides the guide) and the three of us embarked on a three hour ride to a small town outside of Sucre. The trail was a little harrowing at times and definitely a little hard on the posterior, but so much fun! Chris rode a big, gentle gelding named Benjamin and I rode a smaller mare named Emilia. The ride ended in the aforementioned small town where we visited a woman named Dona Nena who treated us to chicha (a drink made from corn), bread and goat cheese: very refreshing! She was a hoot, especially when she would address Chris and I, as she would dramatically slow down her speech and practically shout at us. I know we (Americans/English speakers) do this all the time, it was just funny to have the practice turned on us! It was also surprising to stand up to bid her farewell and find that she barely came up to my waist! From there we took a trufi back to Sucre where we enjoyed a free drink from Joy Ride for taking the tour. We opted to have dinner at Joy Ride as well (we did our best to tackle pique macho: beef, hotdog like slices of meat, fries, egg, tomato, onions, peppers, all sitting in the hot beef juice) before enjoying our other freebie from Joy Ride: movie tickets. The Joy Ride Cafe evidently shows movies frequently, and we were lucky enough to have free tickets to the “funniest Bolivian comedy in years,” a film called Who Killed the White Llama. It was VERY funny, though a lot of what we found funny was, likely, unintentional. My favorite part was the guide who showed up in each scene dressed as a different person; he was a taxi driver, a reveler, a businessman, a bum and he even dressed up as a woman several times. Ask me about the scene where he is a cholita giving directions to some gringos: it was our favorite.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Thursday we had a final breakfast at Cafe Abis, visited with another FH couple that Chris knew from the previous summer, packed up and boarded another flota (night bus) bound for Coch. After arriving home at 4:30 am (Friday, June 25) Chris and I went to our respective houses to crash mightily.

Since then we’ve been preparing for conference and departure and the wedding (photographer booked and reception venue soon-to-be booked) while finding time to hang out and visit a few of our favorite haunts for the last time. We went to Beirut (an awesome buffet that became an after-church favorite) and Las Islas on Sunday, and today we went back to Tunari (a delicious steak house here in Coch) for my birthday. I also got a birthday manicure and pedicure today which was quite fun and much needed (boy did my feet need sanded down due to the dry season). We’ve also been to the movies since arriving back in Coch; though neither of us knew anything about the movie (or the source material), Chris and I decided to indulge in an action flick and went to see The A-Team. I had a blast watching that movie! Howling Mad Murdock, Faceman and Baracus really cracked me up, and I thought it was a pretty solid action flick with great casting; I’d like to see it again.

On that note, I’ll bid adieu until (hopefully) a departure post. One week until I’m winging my way back to the US of A; nine days until I’m back home!

Cheers,

Katherine Elyse

 
 
“There is no Plan B.”
“You spin me right round baby right round…”
“Hang on everybody, I want to try something I saw in a cartoon once!”
“You should see these bullets in 3-D…it’s like we’re actually being shot at!”
“I love it when a plan comes together.”

It’s official: my posts are both sporadic and random. I am now officially setting a goal of updating with a minimum of one post a week. What that will end up meaning is that I’ll definitely post one, but I won’t limit myself to one if something (like this post) leaps to mind.

Facebook. I love facebook, really, I do. I love the message feature that allows me to facebook-email my friends. I love how it enables me to keep in touch and up to date on friends’ lives, even when we’re continents away. I especially love the photo albums; I can both reminisce over photos I’m in, and keep up to date with friends via the photos they upload (weddings, excursions, baking escapades, new homes, etc).

Now, though there are several things I love about facebook, there are countless more that I HATE about facebook. Having run across most of them in a two minute facebook session just…two minutes ago, I’ve decided to blog-vent a little. To vblog. No. Blvent? Maybe. I’ll sleep on it. Anywho.

Some of the things I dislike are merely annoying facebook functions, most are annoying habits of facebook users. My apologies to any who may read this who also fall under one of the categories below; I mean no offense.

 
 

Really? Really? Who thinks of these things? True, I’ve enjoyed one or two quizzes, but even those irk me, so I instantly delete them because I have no desire to have “What Hogwarts House do you belong in” permanently emblazoned on my profile. But let’s not waste too much time listing all the annoying facebook applications that people can’t seem to stop sending me or inviting me to join (hint: I will never, ever want to hatch anything on facebook…ever), let’s just highlight one of the most asinine, banal time wasters: Farmville. I cannot, for the life of me, fathom why anyone would waste their time on this. (Now, this is not to say that I never waste time…I just don’t waste my time with this monstrosity.) And it’s not mere frivolity, oh no, I’ve known people who get up before the sun to HARVEST THEIR IMAGINARY CROPS. I weep for you, truly, I do.

For those who wonder, I’m referring to that little box under your profile picture, and the section under the info tab. Now, these can be approached in one of two ways: sanely or insipidly.

The sane person chooses a simple quote for the under-the-picture-box, something that (by its origin, let alone the content) reveals a little about their tastes, personality and beliefs, but isn’t either a) overshare or b) a lie. The sane person then either leaves the larger section (under the aforementioned info tab) tastefully blank, utilizes another apt quote, or they write a brief, factual statement about themselves that serves as a gentle introduction (or reminder) for their facebook friends.

~The sane do not overshare.
~The sane do not attempt to false advertise.
~The sane do not use the “bio” or “about me” (or whatever facebook is calling it these days) sections as a vain attempt to prove how deep they are.
~The sane do not write out their ENTIRE life story.
~The sane do not put something so hypocritical it’s nonsensical, such as: “I hate liars” or “I hate fakes” or “I hate complainers,” ferferfer.
~The sane do not use these sections to air their dirty laundry, or their grudges.
~They do not use these sections to brag.

So what does the insipid user do? Well…take a guess.

Not much to say, other than I no longer see the point. Often times these seem like excuses to try and make yourself over (only putting up the indie bands you like and leaving out your all consuming love for Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys), or excuses to list every movie, television show, band, quote, what-have-you that you’ve EVER seen or heard.

Oh, and a tip, world at large (teenage/college girls in particular)? There is a huge difference between fun-loving and stupid. Please stop putting up quotes that make you (or your “crazie” bff) sound dumber than Miss South Carolina. Oh, and (as I have personally been made aware of) you are rarely as witty as you think you are; think before you label one of your own “witticisms” a favorite quote.

Don’t even get me started on the rubbish that is placed under “interests.”

Okay, I’ll admit it: being defriended sucks. But you know what? It also sucks how much facebook has watered down and degraded the meaning of the word “friend.”

I seem to go through fits with facebook. Fit #1: I feel bad rejecting friend requests from long forgotten acquaintances and new not-really-friends-but-not-really-strangers…people. So I accept them. Fit #2: I realize how ridiculous “friending” can become and, in a vain and short lasting attempt to make myself a little more honest, I “defriend” those who are NOT REALLY MY FRIENDS. I’m currently wavering between these two fits.

Regardless of what fit I’m stuck in, I feel the overwhelming urge to tell the majority of facebook users to GROW UP!!! I realize social networking sites do have the unfortunate tendency to bring out the neurotic middleschooler in all of us, but let’s take a realistic perspective for a second. Facebook does not, or rather, SHOULD not determine who your real friends are. If you need facebook confirmation of a relationship, then you have bigger issues than the fact that the cleaning lady from the restaurant you worked for five years ago just defriended you. If your self worth is measured in the number of facebook friends you have, then you have more to deal with than the fact that that friend of a friend of a friend that you’ve never actually met just defriended you when they realized (after you wrote an obligatory happy birthday post) that they don’t know you from Adam.

You know who I mean. That friend that updates their status every twenty minutes or less, just so you’ll know exactly what TV show they’re watching and what color they’re painting their nails during the commercial breaks.

All I have to say is, who CARES??? I check facebook because I want to keep up on your life at large, not so I can experience a constant, unnecessary stream of mind numbing minutia. If I wanted to know what you and hubby were having for dinner I would get a Twitter account.

***Note: I will NEVER get a Twitter account. I would rather be strappadoed.

At first I thought my distaste for the word “hubby” and the overabundant amount of “hubby” status updates was merely a side affect of my single status. However, when my relationship status changed (though this statement could be challenged as said relationship did not become facebook “official” for more than a year…gasp!) and my annoyance did not, I realized that was because…well, because this word and habit ARE just plain annoying!

You’re married (or dating, or whatever)…we know, we may care, but you don’t need to remind us via 20+ facebook updates a day. We don’t need to hear “hubby this” and “hubby that” (or “shnoockums” or whatever the unmarried, yet still trite, out there use instead). There is a reason it is called your private life, and that is because it is meant to stay PRIVATE.

So please, save us all a painful death from gagging on our own tongues/vomit as we read your soppy updates.

Alright, so I don’t know what those things are actually called…but you know what I mean! I don’t care if I (along with five other random people) remind you of Belle (or one of the other random cartoon characters on that particular checkerboard): you don’t need to tag me. When you’re about to post and tag one of these atrocities just…just don’t.

I’m actually a little unsure about this one, as it hasn’t occurred lately (and by that I mean I haven’t had the chance to test it lately)…but it was irksome when it did happen.

Deleted messages should stay deleted. Enough said.

Ugh. I’ve used this function before, in the times when I want to show my support/approval/other vague emotion but don’t feel like writing a vapid comment. And, to be honest, I’ve died a little inside each time I’ve done so.

Then this “liking” phenomenon spread to the info section; gone are the days when you could “be a fan” of some person, production or product, now you just “like” it. (Seriously facebook, are you a nefarious time machine that is attempting to kidnap/brainwash/Jedi-mind-control us into becoming permanent junior highers?)

My friend (my REAL LIFE FRIEND) Dave said it best, and in a status update, no less: “[I notice] that you don’t “become a fan” anymore, you “like” a product/celebrity/vague concept’s page. I guess this is to make things more open to all the vague concepts? I presume the next step is to not “like” a status anymore, but to “acknowledge” it, to make things more open to all the emo self-pity.”

Let’s hope that wasn’t prophetic.

Turning the pillow over to the cool side. Smiling. When a song reminds you of something. Skittles. Sunshine. Throwing something at someone, missing horribly and hitting someone else. Using your cell phone to see in the dark. Naps.

Need I go on? Need I list any more of the RIDICULOUS things that you can “like” on facebook?

It’s just…I mean….why? Just…why? Why?

This is just a personal pet peeve, I suppose. But really, you can’t take the time to go into your album and just select “Make Profile Picture?”

I feel that I’ve already touched on this in previous points, but this really is my biggest beef with facebook (users). This is why I felt the need to rope Chris into a discussion of whether or not we would put our engagement on facebook. This is why I have (mostly) given up status updates (save for noting blog updates or handful of other, minor exceptions). This is why I refuse to use Weddingbook or other such applications. This is why I (will) refuse to do a countdown to anything. This is why I have given Abbey the task of putting me out of my misery should I ever lose my mind and post a status with the word “hubby” in it.

This is why my grievances with facebook often outweigh any pleasant feelings I might have: the constant, needless, painful overshare that dominates facebook use. Why won’t middle school ever end?

 
 
And that’s it for now. Is this an incomplete list? Definitely. Is it offensive? Possibly. Was it a cathartic endeavor? Absolutely.

Feel up to the challenge of defending any of these? Have at it.

Cheers,

Katherine Elyse