MDR

My college roommates have a tradition that I hate. When one of us is being particularly dramatic- while telling a story, reacting to a situation, general behavior, etc.- the others might call you “MDR,” meaning “Most Dramatic Roommate.” I hate it because it has been bestowed on me many times, and to argue it only further proves their point.

I had a breakdown the other day. It started because the power was out all night. Without power, we have no air conditioning or fan. The heat made me restless and unable to sleep, so I laid in bed thinking about cool San Luis Obispo and wondering why we ever left. I got out of bed once I determined it was a reasonable hour, only to discover I had a headache. It was hot, I hadn’t slept, and I had a headache. I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and David followed me. He had opened a cupboard without me noticing, and as I was dumping the coffee grounds into the trash I stood up right into the cupboard door and bonked my head. Coffee grounds flew all over the kitchen and I burst into tears. I cried, “I’m so uncomfortable!” as I rubbed my head and wiped up coffee grounds.

Ladies, I’ll claim it. That morning I was definitely MDR.

The not so great part of Maui 2007

(Waiting for the fire to clear. I think Leenie's gesture means "this stinks.")

(The fire that blocked the road to the airport.)

(The view from our emergency hotel. Not bad.)

I neglected to tell you about an important part of our Maui trip. It was nearly perfect, except for a bit of an issue we encountered on our last day. Or what was supposed to be our last day.

There was a fire on the island. And because the fire blocked the only road to the airport, we could not get to the airport. And because we could not get to the airport, we were diverted to a Red Cross shelter. They fed us pizza and bottled water and arranged us a hotel for the night. (I love the Red Cross.) We spent a few long hours in a gym chatting with a rasta-hippy named Jose Z who told us stories of whales and pretended to give us gifts then stuck them back into his own bag.

We all made it home the next day, but not without some drama and on 3 separate flights. Janne and Vanessa even had to bribe the airline employees with Costco churros. My roommates deserve a prize for being so patient with me while I stressed about getting back home. My wedding was in 2 weeks, and I was perhaps a little more upset than I should have been. No one really feels bad for you when you say, "Help! I'm stuck on Maui!" And they shouldn't.

Christmas break #4: Roommates

We spent the weekend drinking coffee and wine, eating homemade treats, hiking at a monastery, shopping, dancing, snuggling, and laughing. We even got to eat here with Nessie's dad. We were chatting so long after the meal that the manager suggested we move to the fireplace and gave us free wine. Quite the treat. We could, and do, chat nonstop for days when we're together. I love these girls.

(Is this Babysitters Club-worthy or what? Especially Erin's smile at the bottom of the pile.)

My favorite pictures of the weekend, all of us captured in very sassy moments:

And Gabe in his Snuggie: