kapachino

Author: Kathleen

  • A Slight Mix-Up

    Remember how my brother’s name is David? And my boyfriend’s name is also David? And how that can be confusing to me at times?

    Take the following text message exchange as an example, which occurred just after I arrived home from spending the evening with Boyfriend.

    Me: I’m home…what a great day! And I got to finish it off with a little David lovin’–which is of course the best kind. :-)

    Brother: Oh god im not so sure i wanted to hear that

    Me: Hahaha that is hilarious that I sent that to you! I’m sure your lovin is great too, just not for me :-)

    Brother: HahaHaha you meant to send that to david f! Im glad your name isnt brandi! [The girl he’s dating]

    Me: This is so funny. Don’t worry he didn’t give me TOO much lovin.

    All I can say is that I’m glad I’m such good friends with my brother.

  • How About A Little Discretion

    I’ve been putting in some half-days at the cancer center where I worked for two years before starting nursing school. Sometimes, funny things happen there.

    For example:

    A patient had an HIV blood test ordered, among other things, and when he went to the lab to get it done, one of our lab techs (a spacey woman who lacks common sense sometimes) called out down the hall to the other tech loud enough for anyone around to hear, “I need an HIV test run on that one!” The patient was understandably upset, and complained to his doctor.

    The doctor came into the exam area and started telling us about it. He said, “You just don’t do that kind of thing! That’s like me yelling out at the hospital, ‘I need an extra small condom catheter over here!’”

  • Tennis Love

    I’ve been house/dog-sitting again since last Friday, so I haven’t seen Carmen, my roommate, since before then. We finally made plans to hang out last night, but I wasn’t sure what we were going to do until I texted her around 4:30 p.m. to ask. She responded, “I have two free tickets to the tennis match, want to go?” The tennis match she spoke of was part of the men’s clay court championship, which is held at a club which is conveniently located right behind our apartments. We didn’t know who was playing, but it sounded like fun.

    We strolled on over, slightly late, enjoying the weather. If we had driven there, we would have had to pay ten bucks and probably would have had to walk farther than we live. We found our seats near the top of the stadium (it was still a great view), and took a look at the program. At the moment, Tommy Haas of Germany was playing Nicolas Devilder of France. Carmen spotted one of her high school students who informed us that Tommy Haas is ranked in the top ten in the world, but Devilder is a no-name. Haas was dominating. But Devilder was French, and so Carmen liked him right away.

    “I could date a tennis player,” she said.

    “Would you date Devilder?” I asked.

    “Well, he looks kind of short.”

    “I don’t think he’s short, I think he’s average height.”

    “I don’t know. He is French, I like that.”

    “But Carmen, you don’t want to date a loser, you want to date a winner.”

    “That’s true.”

    After the singles match finished (which Haas won), the doubles teams came out. Mike and Bob Bryan of the USA were playing James Auckland of Great Britain and Stephen Huss of Australia. Apparently the Bryan twins are the #1 doubles team in the world right now, with quite a few tournament victories under their belts.

    “Ooh, Carmen, you could date a Bryan brother.”

    “Yeah!”

    “Which one would you go for? I suggest Mike.”

    “Yeah, I like Mike.”

    “Which one is he?”

    “He’s the one serving.”

    “How can you tell?”

    “Because someone just yelled ‘Let’s go Mike!’”

    “No, they yelled, ‘Let’s go Mike, let’s go Bob!’”

    “And then someone ELSE yelled, ‘Let’s go Mike.’”

    “I didn’t hear that. Anyway, I’m not sure about the name ‘Bob.’”

    “’Bobby’ is cute, though.”

    “Yeah, ‘Bobby’ is cute.”

    “And besides, it’s probably short for ‘Robert’ and then I’d call him ‘Rob’ or ‘Robby’ or ‘Robby Bobby Coconuts.’”

    “Be careful, Mike is getting jealous.”

    The Bryan twins won the match easily, did a chest bump to celebrate, and then they charmed Carmen a little more by giving short little speeches about the match and how they love playing in Houston. And then they played a short game against two of the ball kids, winners of a contest, who were probably about 10 years old. The brothers had to hold hands as a handicap, just like in an elementary school P.E. class. I have to admit, it was quite endearing.

    We rushed with many of the other fans to catch the brothers on their way out. We unabashedly (well, maybe a little abashedly) held our ticket stubs out for them to sign. I couldn’t get to Mike, but I sure did get Robby Bobby Coconuts’ autograph.

  • Havin’ a Good Time

    My brothers. What more can I say?

    http://youtu.be/H1dtnaUSGOQ

  • Don’t Forget to Remember.

    As I have mentioned before, this semester in school has been hard on me. It has been extremely time-consuming and stressful. I hardly noticed when Lent began. I barely have time in the morning to read a Bible verse. I try to pray throughout the day, but let’s be honest. That doesn’t always work. Yet I didn’t want to just let Holy Week come and go like any other week, so I decided to find a church service to attend for Good Friday. I wanted something solemn, something traditional. I decided on an episcopal church, where they were performing the stations of the cross service. I went by myself, because sometimes I like doing things alone. And this was one of those times.

    I walked into the cathedral-style sanctuary and took my seat on the third row. There weren’t many people there yet, as I was 15-20 minutes early. A minute later the choir began to warm up and tears immediately and unexpectedly filled my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I missed singing in a Christian choir. In college, at Tabor, I sang for all four years. My director was wonderful and passionate and he and the songs he chose for us never failed to inspire me. This church I attended had an excellent choir, and with their music filling the room it all washed over me again at that moment.

    When the service began, I fell in love; I think I was born to be an Episcopalian. I loved the entire process, from beginning to end. I loved the robes the choir wore, with the crosses hanging from their necks. I loved the liturgy. I loved the recitation:

    V. We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee:
    R. Because by thy holy cross thou hast redeemed the world.

    I loved the procession. I even loved all the standing and kneeling. I especially loved the short hymns we sang in between stations:

    “Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us.”

    “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom. Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

    I loved the sound, and I loved the silence. And I loved how it made me remember. This year, I hope Easter will not be just another day.