Life skills.

So my family is taking a vacation relatively soon.* Like, alarmingly soon. My mom is the one who plans family trips. She’s just…does. She always has, and I’m guessing I could be married with three kids and she’ll still call and be all, “We’re leaving on the 14th, do you guys need a microwave for the bottles?”

Well, this spring has been kind of hectic. John’s confirmation, my graduation, and the whole general-life-being-difficult thing kind of took up a lot of time. And so we kind of maybe don’t totally have places to stay in most of the cities we’re going to be in. So. This week my sister and I decided to help. She was going to figure out the things that we were going to do in the cities, and I was going to find hotels.

Because Civil War history doesn’t make her want to kill herself, and I really don’t want to come home from this trip a size larger and reeking, so I can find places with a treadmill and laundry services.

It was a good plan.

I mean, really. I’m 22, I’m technically a graduate student,** I could probably find a few hotels.

Except it turns out that there’s a reason my mother plans trips. She’s really good at it.

I found one hotel, in Washington, D.C. Based solely on the criteria that they had a Starbucks in the lobby. And I think they were located kinda sorta close to the Mall, maybe. I think. Except they were completely booked. Then I got bored. And went to have lunch. And…my mom found the rest of them.

But I did hover over her shoulder and whine like a five-year-old, so I’m pretty sure they all have laundry services.

I know, this is very interesting. Aren’t you glad I’m the only person left in the world with a blog?

*I’m being nonspecific so you don’t come and steal my 13-inch tube television. I know. It’s temping. Although if you wanted to do so, and enjoy some wicked cool non-HD programming on me, you could just head over to my sister’s Facebook page, where she has occasionally stops foaming at the mouth with excitement to update her status with the number of days left.
**I’m not trying to be obnoxious. I JUST LOVE SAYING THAT.

I’m sure you don’t care.

Oh, internets. It’s been a few days, right? I know. You missed me. I have had very important things to talk about. Like how I want to just start hanging around the Jewish Museum, and I’m really upset about the end of the semester, and I got an award for Jewish scholarship which I find amazing and funny at the same time…and my hair. Because I figured out that if it’s going to look the way I want it to for graduation I need to be in the shower at four-thirty in the morning and wow, that deserves a post all it’s own, I think.

Oh, you wanted to talk about those things? Okay.

-I went to a lecture on Tuesday night because it was given by a guy who could tell me he was giving a lecture on how much I suck and I’d be all, dude, sign me up. Is there an admission fee? Can I bring my mom? ANYWAY.

When I go to these lectures, I’m always in the minority. I was at one at the JCC a few months ago and realized that I was the only person in the hall who still ovulated. Yep. Believing in Christ’s resurrection and still getting my period? Definite minority when you’re in Jewish studies. But this time I had company! I dragged Katie and there was even another student who showed up.

So I don’t know where I was going with that except that it probably grossed out any family members who read this and oh, yeah, I really had a good time and I wish the Dead Sea Scrolls were going to stick around forever because I freaking love going to lectures that don’t have anything to do with FDR or the British partition of Palestine!

-Psst. Come here. Closer. I’m about to drop some knowledge. Do you know what I just figured out? THERE ARE TWO WEEKS LEFT IN THE SEMESTER. I know. I know. That’s four classes that I have left.

This? Is not cool. I am really, really not okay with that.

(I’m okay with the work being over. I have one paper left to write and let’s just say I’m taking applications for someone who wants to write 7-10 pages about Jewish intermarriage and conversion in 19th-century Berlin. I’M KIDDING. I would never plagiarize. Don’t take away my award. Or if you do, do it because of the whole resurrection thing I wrote about up there.)

So. More tears.

-No. For reals. I did. And you know what’s funnier? They gave the other one to the only other Catholic in the group.

So. Again with the dropping the knowledge. You want to distinguish yourself? Find an obscure major and work really hard and then you’ll get to hang out at awards ceremonies where it’s basically you and your friend.

Oh, you wanted a real job? Sorry. Can’t help you.

-I have to be at the US Cellular Arena at 8:15. You don’t (hopefully) know where I live, but it’s FREAKING FAR. And this (if this wasn’t the internet you would see me furiously gesturing to my hair) DOESN’T JUST HAPPEN.

*headdesk*

That’s all.

Oh. Except that I got the best graduation gift in the world last night.