Touchy-Feely: Crawl Space

Today was a day of relatively pleasant weather (which itself followed a night of temperatures in the teens and the decision to turn the heat down to 54 less our gas bill get to be too big...which is a very uncomfortable combination, even with a stack of 6 blankets on top of you.)  I rode for 2 1/2 hours, then found out I was going to be late to meet Lexy for a bid on a tree/landscaping job--so I had to sprint (on my bicycle) across town during rush hour, which is really good training, I think, but it makes me realize how fucking stupid drivers are--though it does reconfirm how much more convenient and awesome it is to be on a bike on busy, gross roads. Lexy and I spent the last few moments of daylight checking out this landscaping job, which will bring in necessary money for what should go toward gas bills, but will probably wind up being spent on bike parts, beer, ginger snap cookies from Amazing Savings, DVD's from Orbit, or a dozen roses for our respective sweethearts.  Ah well. Such is being a dumb kid.

A group of current Wilson kids and fellow Wilson graduates came over tonight, which was awesome. I was hoping to have some time to have some heart-to-hearts with my bff's Chelsea, Christine, Meredith, and Megs (the original crew of awesomeness, dating all the way back to '04.) But I suppose we'll have to try again with a ladies' night out to Old Europe (which I personally hate because fancy dessert is for wienies and their coffee is so fucking expensive) or the French Bar, or somewhere else where Ladies' Night seems appropriate. Because here at home we get distracted by the other people that live here, none of whom are girls.  But that's ok, too.  

Mike cooked another incredible meal, as he does, and we laughed our asses off and had a good ol' time. And Tina/Alexis/Alex finally brought over Chan the Superstar, after accusations that she was embarrassed of the family and would never bring him over.  He fit right in, and we think he should come back more often. But of course they left right after dinner too, so maybe she is really embarrassed by the family. Dang.

The eight of us, or however many it was at that point, began playing Apples to Apples, which is a great game that I personally suck at, which sort of epitomizes my sense of humor, I think:  So what if it doesn't really make sense--or maybe it makes too much sense...  For example: the word "machine gun" should win hands down, no matter what the adjective is because machine guns are amazing, and hilarious and remind me of childhood, which--if I remember correctly--was awesome. Same with Fire Storm. These words are winners. But no one else thinks so, so I never get green cards. But that's ok. I'm over it. 

And then Charlie, Matthew, and Icky showed up--a great surprise, as the former two especially tend not to hang out much, despite them being cool as hell and living right down the street.  A group this size shouldn't be playing apples to apples in a living room, so things were moved to the basement, and more basement-oriented games started taking place, like darts (half-assed) and flip-cup (short-lived, but great nonetheless.)

Good friendly conversations continued throughout the evening, and it was generally a very good night. Then everyone went home kinda early (everyone being Wilson kids, and Mike having to get up at 5 for a cyclocross race...this is what would be expected.)  So I played some more Avett Brothers, cleaned the house, then started writing this little thing.  Our recycling bin is over-flowing, which annoys me right now, but tomorrow is supposed to be warmish, so I'm excited. I love weekends because I wake up whenever the heck I want, then I have all the time I need to read the entire New York Times (unlike just select articles like how it is during the work week), and I can drink 7 cups of coffee then run for an hour and half and feel like a million bucks because I'm all jacked up on stimulants, then I can ride all afternoon until it gets dark.  I love it. Hell yeah weekends. Too bad Mike's always gone. He's my sunshine. Lexy and Lateef are my Rainbow and Flower Petal, though, respectively.  

And Phil is currently passed out on our couch, so I'm going to go put a blanket over him and get to bed myself. Maybe I'll draw some doodles of kids on BMX bikes, because that's kind of in my head right now. Then sleep.

 Cheers,

Kylie

"Live pimp, that's my motto" - Teef

saturday night

it is almost one in the morning and things are dwindling down here in our neck of the woods. Phil just left after watching a wee bit of a biking video with me while the Krauss was typing away on what I can only guess is Facebook.... I wonder whom she is typing to... the house feels empty without our fourth member here... hopefully he is out having fun and kicking ass on a bicycle in some far distant land...
beer tastes too good right now and no one is here to enjoy the flavor with cause we all have got things to do tommorow (like ride bikes and cut down trees)...
there aint really nothing to report... which is good and bad news.
-Lexy

The Homestead: An Introduction

Although considered nerdy by some, Blogs are an important medium through which to display news, opinions, and random bits of day-to-day adventures. Hence this stupid little website: a place where the four residents of 17 Nebraska can write about the happenings within, outside of, and in the general area surrounding the homestead. That, and perhaps serve as a place where passive-aggressive rants will occur and personal secrets will be exposed. Uh-oh.

The cast consists of:
Mike, Lexy, Kylie, and Lateef -- four names that, if you will notice, form a nice sequential list of letters in the middle of the alphabet: K, L, and M. This goes to show that this group was meant to be together. That's all.

Thus far, several dinner parties, some more traditional 20-somethings-style parties (i.e. beer, loud music, and babes), and even a few quiet evenings have taken place, serving to break in this little house. Last night for instance, several friends from the somewhat nearby Warren Wilson College stopped by to make Southern homestyle cooking, followed by a desperate attempt to learn the Soulja Boy dance, and Lexy and Kylie cleaning up afterwards, saying to eachother that tomorrow night is going to be sad because Mike will be out of town for a race, again. Their separation anxiety was acutely noticed just then, not to mention the tightness (or perhaps neediness? We hope not...) that has already formed amongst the crew.

Currently, the Kimmy Gibler of the house, Phil, is over, while Kylie and Lexy are singing some Avett Brother lyrics to eachother, having had these songs stuck in their heads for the past week. They're just so f-ing good, they'll have you know. That and the two are hopeless romantics at heart, each thinking of their respective dreamboats of the moment as they croon out sappy-ass love songs with a bluegrass tinge.

Anyway, this particular day was spent, as per usual, with the riding of bikes by half the house members. The local riding paradise was covered with either a snow/ice or mud/water mix, depending on what side of the mountain that section of trail was on--which Kylie and Phil enjoyed thoroughly amongst the company of a scattering of kick-ass 50 year olds whose riding abilities demand respect, whose bikes display their access to steady, substantial incomes (unlike the two recent college grads), and whose sense of humor resembles any boy under the age of 18...creating an enjoyable presence and a tendancy toward epic rides.

While the three (Lexy, Kylie, and Phil) sit around drinking their 47th cup of hot chocolate and wash it down with a slice or three of Lexy's homemade bread, they mourn the absence of Mike for this weekend, wonder where the heck Lateef went, and wait to figure out the hell they should get into this evening. Maybe we'll tell you what happened later.