Kaley

Madrid Bound

Oh, so did I mention …

we’re moving back. To Spain.

And by we, I mean me; Mario’s already there. Being his Spanish self.

I think he looks very Spanish here, hiking in the Castilla y León wilderness.

Did I really just say that? Yeah, I did—me, moving back to Spain.


So yeah, this is happening. Me + Mario + new job for him + apartment hunting + moving to a new city + my brother’s wedding in September + starting the job in October

Equal_Sign

One Busy Summer

Wish us luck! And, all of my Spain ladies, see you in Spain?

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Who wants to “take a coffee”?

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Behind the Scenes

Behind the scenes of this blog, a lot of stuff is going on. Or, rather, we’re waiting for it to do so.

You see, although having a blog is inherently narcissistic (in that I enjoy getting positive feedback, interacting with other bloggers, and knowing that somewhere out there someone’s reading), I don’t tell you everything. Surprise! Although I may seem like a chronic oversharer, I promise – there are people out there way worse than me.

I’m working a nine-to-five job, balancing work with relationships and trying to not gain forty pounds from my desk job. I’m slowly memorizing the Chicago Manual of Style. I’m learning whether the verb should be lie, lay, laid, or lain. (Yes, it does exist.) I’m trying to keep my apartment clean and my kitten from biting my legs.

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He did this on purpose to look innocent. He is not.

But, if you know me, there are always a million things swirling around in the back of my mind. The future, you see, is still up in the air. We’re waiting on a few things. While we’re waiting, I’m here; he’s there. We talk every day – we Skype, chat, email, text, Facebook…you name it, we use it.

Kelly wrote this great post about technology and study abroad – its pluses and minuses. I could say the same for the Internet and my What Ifs. I get sucked into the vortex of the Internet and emerge, hours later, starving and wondering just how I got started down this series of tubes.

You may now understand my lack of writing. I want to tell you, but I also am afraid of putting myself out there, getting too personal, and – you know – looking like a fool in the end.

So, if you ever want to know more (and I understand that you might), please email me: kalhendr[at]gmail[dot]com. I’m more than willing to dish over Gmail. Or add me on Facebook. You can see all the sappy, lovey dovey photos that you always seem to be searching for.

happy

Missing

Volleyball team my senior year

If my high school English teacher taught me anything, it’s that nostalgic writing is inane – sappy, full of clichés, and not worth my time. It’s hard, though, because I’m a nostalgic person.

I miss things a lot.

Certain things can bring me back to a specific time period – Edy’s frozen yogurt makes me think of my senior year of high school, the smell of cheap beer reminds me of the time I turned 21 (my first time in a bar, mind you), Christmas lights bring to mind decades of Christmas past…you know what I mean. All it takes is one bite, one smell, one glimpse…and I’m off thinking, reminiscing, even pining for that time in my life. I forget the hard parts: the nights I spent homesick, how I didn’t feel “good” enough, the people who weren’t so nice to me. I focus instead on the happy memory, the one that stayed with me.

So, right now, pardon me, but I miss Spain.

I don’t necessarily miss the country itself – the bureaucracy, the flat lands of Castille, the way every trip to another city involves visiting one of three things (a church, a castle, or a bridge), but I do miss it. Just like I missed here when I was there. I wonder sometimes if, because I’ve chosen a somewhat international life, I will always be missing someone or something. I think the answer is a resounding yes. My life will be full of the words “I miss you” or, alternately, “Te echo de menos.”

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After all, every email I write to Mario when he’s away contains those words. Every phone call is peppered with little moments of oh, how I wish she/he were here instead of there. I will go out with friends and spend my time thinking about whether he would or would not like this drink/this food/this place/these people. Not that I’ll ever really know, but I think about it anyway.

When I was in Spain, I could only remember the good things about home – the convenience of driving, the friends and family, understanding everything that was said, not feeling like a foreigner. I forgot the fact that driving everywhere makes me chubby, that speaking and improving in Spanish leaves me with a feeling of accomplishment, that feeling like a foreigner can sometimes be fun.

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No, I don’t want to go out and see the bull. Thanks.

So, forgive me if you will. I’m a bit nostalgic these days. And always.

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You can come back now.

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Or I can go there. Either one.

Welcome to the Midwest!

No, it’s not Mario’s first visit to the Midwest. He’s been here twice before. Nonetheless, he was introduced to some very American/Midwestern tradition: tailgating, football, and IU basketball.With our food: veggies/dip, cheese ball and crackers, cookies (peanut butter and chocolate chip), pork sandwiches, etc.

Crazy hair. I know.

No, we didn’t win. But who cares about football (or, as Mario calls it, American rugby)?

We later went to the annual Cream vs. Crimson scrimmage, which was way more fun to watch. After all, we are a basketball state – always have been, always will be.