Where were you when the world stopped turning?

It’s been 14 years. I had just turned 11, and was going about my morning as usual. An employee of my dads called, and said I don’t know what’s happening, but you should turn on the tv. A plane hit a building in New York? Confusion. It could have been anything. A pilot who lost control. Then, the unthinkable happened. Standing in my living room, I will never forget watching the second plane hit. With that split second, my little world was rocked. That second plane meant this wasn’t an accident. But this sort of thing didn’t happen in real life, the only tragedies had already occurred. They were safely tucked away in the stories weaving the cloth called history.

It’s been 14 years, and yet I have images etched in my brain that will never fade. Innocent lives ended before their time. Lives ended by the greed of evil men with consciences eaten up by hatred, under the guise of religion. I hate that I can’t forget the sight of that day. But I would hate it more if I did forget.

It’s been 14 years, and we seem to have moved on. As humans we have the remarkable and necessary ability to recover from unimaginable tragedies. I think of it as our God given will to live. But remember the flocking to Church? Remember the sudden move to community and prayer? Remember how suddenly we were truly, one nation under God, indivisible because our liberty and justice had been threatened? We need our hope. We need to recover. But we need to remember.

It was 14 years ago, but one evil will always be replaced by another. It’s not enough to come together for a day, a month, or even a year. If we are going to see our great nation thrive again, remember how we came together in the time of such a great tragedy.

14 years ago, our policemen were celebrated. Our firemen were rightfully called heroes. Everyday citizens laid down their lives for each other. We saw the very worst, and subsequently the very best of humanity. Let’s make the very best happen again, before the worst pushes us to action. Thank our servicemen of all kinds. Police, fireman, military, everyday people who give of themselves. Pray for our country. Forget parties, vote for officials who will restore our homeland to what it was intended to be. Don’t forget 14 years ago. Don’t let those innocent people have died in vain. God bless America.

If I Were a Sports Writer…

…a girl can dream 😉

Nobody can beat a dead horse like Sportscenter. Nobody. Well, except maybe a politician or two, or a thousand. Really though, when will this deflategate be over? I would venture to say this isn’t really about the Superbowl. Any athlete worth their salt (ahem Seattle), would take responsibility for the loss. So what are these ridiculously drawn out allegations really about? Brady is good looking, successful and working for a great coach who doesn’t play the media’s games. Watch any Belichick press conference, and I dare you to find one where he looks like he could care any less. No one has mastered the stonewall look quite like Bill. After being asked about deflategate for approximately the 827392nd time, his answer is simply, “it’s been addressed.” The message is even simpler. Move. On.

So why haven’t we? As humans I think we go one of two ways when it comes to highly successful people. We want to be that person, or we want to destroy him. Maybe even a little of both sometimes. Now, I promise I am the farthest thing from a Pats fan, but their success is undeniable. Go ahead, blame it all on cheating. No one, not even the golden boy can cheat his way to four Super Bowl rings. The kid is a winner. It’s impossible to know if the allegations are true or not at this point. So excuse me if I have more important things to worry about Sportscenter. Stuff like, ya know, if there’s any chance of the Bengals not breaking my heart yet again this year.

Today, I Choose Joy

It would be wrong to start this off any other way than thanking those who have served our country, past and present. Much of my family, both of my grandad’s included, have served…God bless America…Happy 4th of July y’all! ‘Merica 🙂

For those who don’t care…SPORTS –>

Wow. Apparently more people get offended by my opinion than I thought, gosh I feel so important 🙂 Just so everyone can calm down, let me add a note to my last post. In no way am I diminishing the work that the world cup players, as well as many on lower levels put into their sport. My biggest issue is the fact that I’m repeatedly told how much MORE talented they are than other athletes, such as those playing baseball and basketball. I repeat, there are many fantastic athletes that play soccer, CALM YOURSELF.

While we are at it, I even have a bit of a rant about baseball, although this issue is perhaps a bit off the beaten path. No one has ever accused me of being terribly normal though, so I’m guessing you’re not shocked. Although unusual, I think this is a serious issue that needs to be addressed. It has to do with pants. Baseball pants. Normally, I don’t think people have an issue with them, unless they are moms trying to scrub out endless dirt and grass. So how are they a problem? Well they aren’t, on actual baseball players. However, these pants reach a whole new level of inappropriate and downright scary when there is a middle aged/old man, generally with a large potbelly, wearing tight white baseball pants to coach the bases…now we have a problem. Not only do some men choose to wear this atrocity willingly, it is actually required, at least at the high school level, to be allowed to coach on the field. What joker wrote up this rule thinking it was a good idea to scar millions of fans across the country? If I had to bet, I would guess that exponentially more eyes have been clawed out across the country since that rule came into effect. In conclusion of this issue, I’ll be collecting full length mirrors to distribute to high school coaches as a charity event to raise awareness. People need their eyes. Please send your donations my way.

And then for those who don’t care about this part, MY LIFE –>

Back to reminiscing…I’ve been sorting everything I own recently, which is no small task. Between me and Robert, I’m fairly certain we could have applied for that hoarders show and been their number one stars. I now have a lot fewer things, but I also ran into quite a lot of memories. I found notes from penpals of old that consisted of such gems as(grammar and punctuation intact), “I love being qenqals I guess I will see you sometime well bye,” and, “I really(+100) like writing letters and receiving them, ” as well as, “I enclosed a secret code keep it if you want to use it.” I’m not sure what was so secret, but clearly desperate times call for desperate measures! I do get the feeling that I wasn’t very good at writing back, however. That is the only explanation I can find that explains why, out of the 5 or 6 penpals I had, Every. Single. Person. wrote “PS- PLEASE write back soon!” in desperate tones at the end of Every. Single. Letter. Sorry girls, I apologize for apparently irresponsible ten year old self. Along with the notes, I found things such as a ponytail from an old haircut, my cast which was cut off approximately ten years ago, and a Kings Island pass from 1995. I warned you, hoarder status!

Although some items were a bit creepy(don’t worry I threw away the hair,) it was really enjoyable to find things such as newspaper clippings of my beautiful Mama as the head majorette in high school, and mine, Robert and Dad’s coaching win at the Whiteoak tournament. I began thinking about the passage of time, which is sort of on my mind in this transition period of my life, a lot. In my limited experience, and even more limited wisdom, each part of your life seems like the most important while you’re in it. My 1995 Kings Island pass, complete with a grumpy shy face picture reminded me of how scared I was of everything and anything at the time. For those who didn’t know me then, I was painfully shy and incredibly attached to my Mother. You might be thinking, the latter hasn’t changed a whole lot. While I am still super close to my Mama, let me give you a little perspective. At the tender age of 3, my Mother made a ridiculous assumption. She decided that it would be acceptable to leave me at home with my dad, for one whole hour a week mind you, while she went to an exercise class. In my usual cool, calm, collected manner of handling situations, I formulated a brilliant plan. Every time my poor Mom tried to leave, I would run through our neighborhood next to her car, crying and waving and calling her to come back. Once that had failed, little sad me would sit on the curb in front of our condo and cry until she returned an hour later. Once I grew up to the ripe old age of 4, I had a breakthrough, one night, not crying at all. Incredibly proud of myself, I went in to tell my Dad how grown up I was being. He seemed remarkably unimpressed;) At any rate, I digress and hope that we can all agree that I’ve come a long way. My cast reminded me of how tragic a broken arm seemed at thirteen. My party favor from my senior prom reminded me of the tears I cried when leaving a tight knit high school group of friends behind, as I headed off to college.

It would seem to follow then, that in leaving college, as always, this period seems the most important now. The people I left behind when leaving Belmont Abbey College have been the toughest yet. The amount of growing we did there together and the things we’ve experienced…well we’re a family. Amanda was my first family there, and it greatly expanded from there, including some really fantastic people that taught me so much. The best part of my cleaning though, was that I did a bit of emotional cleaning too. It’s no secret around here that I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself while looking for a job, missing my friends and boyfriend, and realizing that a crucial part of my life is ending. These memories reminded me though, that every stage in life that ends, marks a new beginning. I can’t tell you how scared I was when my mom would leave me(GEEZ MOM), how scared I was when I broke my arm, or how scared I was when I left for a new state to live with people I’d never met. Now, I’m leaving that place that became a second home, and starting a couple of part time jobs next week. They’re not “forever” sort of things, but they’re a start. You know that trusting God thing I talked about a couple of posts ago? Well if I could write a letter to myself, all those scary times, I would remind myself of my hoarder’s box of memories and one very important fact. HE has never let me down. When I’m 85, old and even more sarcastic than I am now(it’s a Franer trait that increases with age), I’ll be sitting around looking at my, by then giant sized, hoarder box. And you know what, I bet I would say the same thing to my 23 year old self. So instead of feeling sorry for myself today, today, I will choose joy.

Short Sport Report

I will now be interrupting all of these reminiscing posts until further notice for an important service announcement. Your friendly sports reporter over here(that’s me)is currently super frustrated with a couple of sports related topics, and, lucky you, I’m here to rant about them!

 

First up on the docket is concussion syndrome. This is the sort of repetitive and ongoing topic, that one can only assume continues because those with concussion syndrome don’t remember what they’ve already whined about. I’m also going to assume that anyone reading this has at least a vague idea of what football is all about. You line up a whole lot of really large, competitive men, with nicknames such as “The Refrigerator,” “Mean Joe Green,” and “Ironhead,” across from each other, and essentially tell them to knock the chocolate out of folks(Remember the Titans reference there, and if you got it without me pointing it out, message me because we are clearly meant to be friends forever.) Some jobs include an attempt to avoid getting tackled, but in general one would say there is a fair amount of who can hit who harder. But you knew all that right? You, who if you’re reading my blog, have likely never played football, or at least at no higher than a high school level. So please explain to me, how these men who played football from the impressionable young ages of five and six, are suing the NFL for receiving a concussion. Did they not know that there is physical contact? Clearly, they were somehow misinformed about the nature of this game. They must not have been told ahead of time that those 350 pounders were trained to slam them into the ground. They must have missed the fact that they were trained to do the same. I’ll be the first to admit that some athletes are not the sharpest tools in the toolbox, but please don’t tell me that you signed that NFL contract for millions of dollars thinking you were going to sit around sipping tea and eating crumpets. Their second claim is that they were given high level pain killers like candy to mask their issues. The thing about candy is, it’s not good for you, and your parents tell you that, but it’s sort of your choice to eat it anyway. Last I checked, no one was suing the skittles people for their rotting teeth, because they couldn’t resist tasting the rainbow. So what I’m essentially hearing is this. Grown men, most of them overgrown men in fact, were unaware that being tackled and receiving concussions would have an adverse effect on their bodies, and that painkillers to mask the pain wouldn’t solve the problem…because no one told them. Excuse me while I use my second Remember the Titans reference of this post, and say as Nikki made so very clear to Cheryl…I. Do. Not. Care. I don’t deny that they have received concussions. In fact, I sort of hope that they did. Because really, that’s the only way I think they could see this as a reasonable claim. Maybe there is an option to plead insanity. There’s probably a settlement for that. Speaking of insanity, I’ll conclude my rant with my favorite story out of this whole thing. Dan Marino recently joined this all important cause. He personally has no reported injuries or medical damages. He seeks repayment for unspecified damages. UNSPECIFIED DAMAGES. No no, you’re right Danny boy, there’s no possible better use for that money than to pay off your overpriced lifestyle with those unspecified damages. But who am I to judge, maybe he’s just a sensitive guy and it really hurt him to watch others get hit. I heard he’s got a lawsuit coming up for the next time he runs out of money to advocate for the losing teams to get a trophy, to build their self esteem. After all, his self esteem has a few “unspecified damages.”

One last rant for the night, and then this sleepy sports reporter needs a rest. Thinking this hard about stupid people is very tiring business. The World Cup. Yes, yes, everyone freak out and get offended and tell me how amazing soccer is, please, do it. Here’s the thing. Soccer has positives, and I don’t hate it, really I don’t. It’s a poor mans game which is kind of cool and we Americans like the underdog, and I do believe that you have to be in great shape to play it because there is quite a bit of running. That, in my humble opinion however, is where the positives end. Here are my frustrations.1) I don’t care if you like soccer. What I do care about, is when you try to tell me that it requires more skill than sports such as baseball or basketball. I tried to watch a little bit of it the other day. At any given time, there are approximately ten people running up and down the field doing absolutely nothing, and accomplishing even less. Less than nothing is pretty impressive. To try and liven things up they put a close up on one of these runners and in his eyes I could just see it. He hasn’t touched a ball in about three years. He’s useless and he knows it. He’s essentially a marathon runner, that doesn’t even get to put the cool sticker on the back of his car. Running, does not take more skill than baseball. 2) Everyone suddenly cares for this one month. If you’re a legit soccer fan, kudos. The World Cup for most people is just an excuse to pretend you care about soccer simply because you don’t like one of the countries, and if they lose, that will really show ’em. 3) One of the positives is also a negative. It’s a poor mans game. And that’s great right, because everyone can play it! Oh wait, EVERYONE can play it. If you ever meet a soccer mom who’s child is NOT on a select team, write that name down because they are few and far between, and their child must truly be scrapings at the bottom of the athletic barrel. Oh well, they’re probably smart or something like that. I’ve grown up hearing the phrase “it’s a communist sport”…while that’s a bit extreme, as phrases with the Franer name attached to them tend to be, I can’t say I completely disagree. 4) Lastly, please stop telling me that I’m stupid for not appreciating the extreme skill it clearly takes to play for hours and not score a point. If you play soccer, don’t get offended. No one really cares about my opinion, and if we’re being honest, I’m probably not too worried about yours. If you’re still unsure about what I think on that topic, please refer to the second Remember the Titans quote above.

This has been your “short” sports report with Bridget, have a wonderful night everyone 🙂

PS- Why do they add an arbitrary amount of time onto the end of soccer games for wasted time, instead of just stopping the clock like normal? This is something I truly want to understand.

Rome’s Miracles

Today is June 18th, marking exactly one year since Daniel and I began dating. I was thinking today about how far we have come, and I felt like writing about those thoughts. Now watch out, I’m about to turn into one of those couples I hate and it’s probably going to get a little mushy up in here, BUT at least I warned you first! So you have a couple of options, 1) Decide this post isn’t for you, 2) Read on out of curiosity (you have my permission to take gag breaks as needed), or 3) Just enjoy the story and be glad I don’t do this all of the time 🙂

I met Daniel at orientation, my very first day of college. I couldn’t believe there was someone who wanted their family to leave as soon as possible, when I was over there absolutely dreading my family’s departure. Safe to say, I thought he was a little crazy. We didn’t stay close our freshman year, although we moved in mostly the same circles. Sophomore year, I went through some tough times, and he really emerged as a confidant and close friend to me. And so it all began…with rosary walks. Those who know Daniel know that he tends to not sleep at college, well, not at night anyway. Apparently, I was the only one dumb enough to stay up and agree to go on his LATE night rosary walks. Those rosary walks consist of some of my best college memories. It was there that I heard all about all the girls that Daniel liked(and there were plenty!), all the crazy ideas he had(and there were plenty!), where we have gotten rained on, where we sat on the bridge over the highway and talked about life, it was there that he listened to all of my troubles and hopes and dreams and looking back…well, it was 100% worth it.

We tried to keep in touch over Summer, ok, revision, I tried. You have no idea how hard this kid is to keep in touch with. It’s like trying to convince me that there is a better sport than baseball…like, it’s not going to happen. But by Junior year, we started spending even more time together. I visited his home for Thanksgiving and fell in love with his family. As a matter of fact, I called my mom from their home telling her how awesome his family was and saying, “I so wish that I liked him! Ugh!” At the beginning of second semester, something unprecedented happened. Daniel did not have his eye on any particular girl. It was nothing short of a miracle, and I guess that’s probably when I started liking him. Who doesn’t want to be that close to a miracle?;) Anyway, I didn’t see anything coming out of it as we had truly been just very good friends for two years. Remember how hard it is for him to keep in touch? Well, at the end of Junior year, he was headed off to Europe with the honors program, and I was pretty darn convinced that would mark the end of any possibility of a relationship. When you add a time difference and extremely spotty wifi into the equation…well let’s just say in my mind that equaled out to very little hope. And yet…another miracle happened. He texted or skyped me, Every. Single. Day. Two miracles…for anyone keeping count, we’re almost to sainthood over here;)

Soon I headed to Italy with the Hintemeyer program. There was going to be only two nights and one day which would overlap with his group and I was so excited to see him. The first night however, didn’t go as planned. Due to various circumstances, things were pretty awkward. Later, however, we talked through it, and he agreed to meet us at 6am for Mass in St. Peter’s. I’ll be honest, I never thought it would happen. We were up until 3am, and just like with communication, he is not known for waking up early. He showed up! And there it is, that’s miracle number three;) He and I went for a walk during the day, and nothing was said. I was beginning to get very antsy as we were running out of time. With some encouragement from she who shall not be named, *cough*Kara*cough*, he decided to ask me out on our last night in Rome. What better place for a miracle than Rome?!

Sounds pretty Romantic right? Right by St. Peter’s square, beautiful places and twinkling lights all around us, street musicians providing background music, the smell of Italian pasta wafting through the air…well let me paint you a slightly more realistic picture. He was too tired to walk 300 yards to St. Peter’s, and so we sat and prayed a rosary on a dirty staircase looking at a dirty alley. There was no music except for the incessant beeping of horns that Italy boasts of. After the rosary, he looked at me and said, “So, I’ve learned a lot about myself on this trip, and I’ve learned that I really like you.” I liked him quite a lot at that point, and I made it wayyyyy too easy. I responded in kind, and the next words out of his mouth were, “So what the hell do we do now?” Clearly a well thought out plan;) And yet, it was perfect. No, not perfect looking in from the outside, but I didn’t care about all that. I loved that our friendship and our relationship began with the rosary, and I sure hope Mary is still keeping us under her wing as we keep up that tradition.

So there is the story of how it all began. This past year has been an absolute whirlwind with all of the changes I spoke of in my last post. Without a doubt, Daniel is one of the greatest blessings of my life. We’ve had our ups and downs, and I don’t expect that to change. There are a million wonderful memories/stories I could tell of the past year, but if you were brave enough to wade through the above, I’ll save those for another time…you’re welcome;) Even now, I think we are both asking the, “what the hell do we do now,” question. And honestly, neither of us knows how this thing will end up. Here is what I do know. I don’t regret a second of our time together, before and after we began dating. He has changed my life, just as everyone does who comes into our path. But he has changed me for the better, and for that, and so much else I am truly grateful. Being apart from my best friend for an unspecified period of time is really hard, although not even close to many of the sufferings in today’s world. However, we each have our cross to bear, and I’m doing my best(ok I’d like to do my best), to offer this up to the Lord, and hope it’s refining us for the future. For me these days, it keeps coming back to trusting God. We don’t know what to do now. We don’t know what’s next. But he tells us, “I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage. I have conquered the world.” – John 16:33 How can we not take heart?

God’s Got This

I’ve been away from this thing for quite some time now…almost a year in fact. And boy, has a LOT happened in that year! I want to go back over some of the highlights, so I’ll get to that soon. But for now, here’s a quick update on graduated life. I could never have foreseen the happenings of the past year, but now more than ever I’m a firm believer in the benefits of an unknown future. Yes, I just said that I would rather not know. And yes, if you know me, you know that I’m a planner. Not knowing drives me insane, and when people mess with the plan, especially at the last minute, I get just a bit irked. I have trouble feeling like God’s got it under control sometimes, but I’m continually reminded that he does. They say make plans if you want to make God laugh…I think that sounds very vindictive. I like to think of it as more of a fatherly, “awww, they’re so naive and stupid, look at them trying so hard. Calm down kiddo, compared to Kim Kardashian/Humphries/West and J Beibs, you’re doing ok!” Ok, ok, so we all know God loves all his children equally, but really, sometimes you need a good dose of the weirdos on Judge Judy to feel better about the paths our lives are taking.

Anyway, back to trusting God. This is likely the most difficult transition period of my life up to this point…and my mom tells me it only gets harder from here. Why did I want to be a grown up again? I don’t handle change well. This is unfortunate considering my life is getting flip turned upside down(thank you Will Smith for your wise words.) I graduated. Timmy is graduating and leaving for college. Robert is married. Everyone is getting engaged. Daniel and most of my best friends are at least 8 hours away. What is a change-a-phobe to do?! To put the cherry on top of all of this, I’ve found that after four years of higher education, the only thing I am qualified for/know how to do is…well, nothing at all. Sure I learned things. I learned how to procrastinate. How to be over caffeinated and under nourished. I played sports. I even went to class. But now I’m expected to actually remember that Excel class I breezed through? What? I’m supposed to retain that? Crap. Basically what I’m saying is, we should have had life classes. Sure, sport ethical theory sounds fancy schmancy and interesting. How about a lesson on buying a car or renting an apartment…or even grocery shopping. People aren’t born with these skills you know! These are mom things. Dad things. ANYONE besides me things! Someone help. I still use children’s bubble mint toothpaste for heaven’s sake, I cannot be expected to know real world skills.

Apparently though, it’s sort of one of those throw your baby into the pool and it magically learns to swim things. So here I go. No choice but to search frantically for a job, for a life path, for some direction. When you head off to college, a scared little freshman, they don’t tell you how much of a struggle leaving is. I guess that isn’t part of the attractive package. I thought I had it tough with bland caf food and sharing a shower with 3 other people. Turns out, I would give anything to go back to the hair infested shower that lived in Suite/Ward 205. I would give my right arm for one more night studying our brains out for finals with the friends that have become family. But the time for that is over. And as awful and wonderful as it was, all wrapped into one, we had our four years. As Robert Frost says, “In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” And so it does. This is where that trusting God thing comes in. I had no idea that college would be four of the greatest years of my life, yet God led me to Belmont Abbey, and I found a home and second family there. Now it’s time for me to trust that He’s got this next step too. And I’m glad I don’t know(sort of.) Because really, how boring would that be?

Coming home:)

I can’t believe it’s time to go home already. I’m so ready for America and some sweet tea, and my family and friends. I’ll definitely miss the closeness the six of us had here, and I’ll miss some parts of Italy, without a doubt. Being here though, I realized yet again how much of a home body I am, and just how nice it is to have a little town called Fayetteville waiting for me. It wasn’t exactly like Lizzie McGuire, but if singing every Disney song you know plus some you don’t at a bus stop makes me a rock star, it was pretty darn close;)  Hopefully I’ll gather my thoughts about the rest of my adventures on the plane and post them, until then…arrivederci Roma!

It’s got mountains, it’s got rivers, it’s got sights that give you shivers…

I have been amazed before. Amazed when all three of my sister’s kids were born, amazed when a day is just too beautiful to describe, etc. After being in Rome for just a few days, I feel like my feel for amazement is broadened. What I considered an old building in the states doesn’t even begin to compare to what old means here. I’ve stood on walls and in churches that I can’t even fathom the age, or technology of the time that built them. Yesterday, I went up on my knees the stairs that Pilate condemned Jesus on. Kaitlynn, Matt and I went to Mass where St. Peter was crucified. Darren, Kaitlynn, Caro and I went to mass in the Basilica of Mary Major. We saw pieces of the True Cross, relics and burial places of Popes and Saints. The places that hold them are incredible and accomplish their goal…raising your mind to God. Yet what makes things so very real is the spiritual connection. Being the Catholic-universal-Church has never made me feel so connected. Throughout the ages and across continents, our beliefs hold us together and it just blows my mind. I think it’s safe to say that for me, amazement doesn’t even cover it.

My two favorite experiences in churches were, first, lighting a candle in front of St. Jude, patron of lost causes, and second being blessed by our Holy Father. In the fairly unassuming church(by Rome standards;) of Santa Prassede, there is a candle burning for the things that most weigh on my heart and mind…how cool is that? From old to new, we went to the square to pray the angelus with the Pope today and received a blessing. See how universal our church is?! Saints that have been interceding for us for years, and a new Papa to lead his flock. Truly awesome.

Phew, alright, from the awesome as in awe inspiring to the awesome as in just cool experiences…transition time. Let’s see…gelato is amazing. Maddy is convinced that the Roman ruins are all made up and it’s just a ploy for tourists. Matt spends a LOT of time reading maps and marching on ahead(a game has been created involving points for taking pictures of Matt plus a map, Mr. Ford included is a bonus). Kaitlynn, Maddy and I witnessed our first Italian shouting match in the market…speaking of, I’m not entirely sold on the politeness and reservedness of Italians versus Americans…I find them a bit loud and pushy in general. We explored some today and found food and a park where we may have irritated an old Italian man…that will never be determined as our Italian speaking skills are a slight failure. I’ve found that generally “Prego” is the way to go. Apparently means a lot of things. No clue what however:) Have I mentioned gelato is amazing? Hung out in St Peters square last night where Kaitlynn danced with an old lady to Taylor Swift and we all foind Italian policemen husbands. We have laughed a LOT, Darren has tried to handcrank charge an iPhone, the power has gone out…safe to say it’s been an adventure!

Ok I’ve rambled enough for now. I’m really enjoying it but missing home too…realizing that America is great in it’s own way is definitely coming from this experience. Everyone at home…I miss y’all and love you, I’m praying for you and you better do the same for me!

Buongiorno from Italy!
Finally arrived after about forty hours of travel and a million plane trips. Learned that I should have been German…lots of tall scowling blonde women. Can you imagine me as a Helga? Anyway, waiting for the day to start, thought I’d give a little update:) The four of us girls are sharing a room looking out at the back of the Vatican. I went for a jog around it this morning. Is this real life? Yesterday we saw the colosseum as well as St. Peter in chains…there’s one of those in Cincinnati too. Difference? This one has the actual chains that held St. Peter. Yeah. Talk about blowing your mind. Headed out again for the day but a better update later hopefully. Love, Bridget/Helga…I’m not picky:)

So the adventure begins…

All I know about world travel…I learned from the Lizzie McGuire movie. And as legitimate as me becoming a rock star and hanging out with cute Italian boys is, I can’t wait to find out what is in store:) For now I’m just enjoying the anticipation of the unknown while I sit at my gate in Cincy waiting to take off. Ok that’s a lie, I mean I am, but I’m also freaking out just a tad;) I’ve checked to make sure my passport is in my bag a grand total of 12 times if that gives any indication. Truly, I am so very blessed to have this opportunity, it hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Luckily for you all, I’m going to try and keep up with this a bit so you will know as soon as I find my Gordo! Oh Lizzie, thank you for your wisdom:)