Becoming a local

After a recent trip to Colorado, I found myself contemplating the possibility of moving to Winter Park. Obviously, in order to enjoy the move it would be imperative to buy new clothes, learn the lingo, and fit in with the locals. I started considering things that would need to change.

First, I would be forced to purchase a Subaru Outback.

I am both fascinated and confused by the popularity of these Subarus. I’ve always thought of Colorado folks as being adventurous and rugged outdoorsmen, so the abundance of miniature station wagons was very confusing. I did some research. Apparently, this Subaru thing has all-wheel drive, exceptional ground clearance, and the flexibility of a hatchback. Ok, but it’s still a station wagon. You can throw a ski rack or a bike on top and manage to look a little cooler, but in the end, it’s still a station wagon.

However, I would far prefer a station wagon to this:
We arrived in Denver after dark and were assigned the rental car in space 3-E. We laughed that we got stuck with a PT Cruiser, but we didn’t realize until the next day that it was pee yellow. People in Winter Park laughed out loud as we rolled down their Subaru saturated streets. A little old lady outside the ski shop literally giggled as she asked, “Is that your car?” Rude.

Secondly, I would have to make major improvements in my skiing abilities. I like to think of myself as the kind of skier that loads up a camelback with Red Bull, drops from a helicopter, and launches myself from perilous cliffs while X-Games commentators rave about my unbelievable skills. This is simply not the case. I’m convinced that my incredibly fast and reckless skiing causes everyone to assume that I’m wearing an IPod blaring, “Welcome to the Jungle” as my personal ski soundtrack. However, my friends assured me that based on watching me ski, a more accurate soundtrack would be similar to a jack in the box wind up toy. Da doo da doo da doota de do... Rude.

I’m not sure how to improve my skiing abilities while I am still in Texas. I thought about turning on the treadmill really fast on a huge incline setting. I could throw on some rollerblades and face downhill. I think it could work.

Finally, if I want to fit in with the locals, I would need to start smoking pot. I’ve never been a fan of the idea, but fitting in is a big deal. There are obvious benefits in the athletic world (see also blog 11/15/08), and it would probably be beneficial during my Texas treadmill ski training. We’ll see.

Despite the PT Cruiser ridicule, insensitive skiing criticism, and people’s prolific use of marijuana, this was probably my favorite Colorado skiing trip ever. Chad and Shanon, you are so amazing to let us stay for 4 days! I really enjoyed getting to hang out with you guys. Jason and Cheryl, it was great to see you, and thanks for the ski hook up. Andrew, fun hanging out, we’ll see you when the snow melts. Cody, I heard you are like crack-cocaine to youth groups. I guess that’s a compliment. Awkward, but a compliment nonetheless. Marc, fun trip. Great idea. I’d do it again. Oh, by the way, the camper picture was not Chad and Shanon’s house. This is their house and their super cute kid:

Thanks everyone! You guys are awesome. Maybe I'll be a local someday!

-Kim

(disclaimer: I do not condone the use of marijuana or cocaine or any illegal substance. I was simply making observations. Drugs are bad. Do not do them.)

Say What?

The following are statements that recently made me laugh. There were more, but I can't remember them. Anyway...

“Mis, are you Irish?”
“Well, yes, was it my fair skin that made you think that?”
“No. Hairy arms. I saw your hairy arms.”
(5th grade Hispanic boy talking to the Sub…who is also my roommate.)

“So I had to go to the bathroom really bad, but I wanted to see the pumpkin carving demonstration, so I peed in my pants.”
(Robby…who is currently living on our couch…explaining why wet his pants in Kindergarten.)

“If the thought of kissing him makes you want to throw up, then he’s probably not the one.”
(One roommate giving dating advice to another roommate.)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“Uh, well, it’s uh, when uh, it’s….”
(My response to a 5th grader)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“Oh just some surgery baby boys have. Who wants to read next?”
(My response the next class period)

“Mis, what is circumcision?”
“You don’t wanna know man… you don’t wanna know.”
(6th grade boy blurting out his answer to his friend’s question)

“So Jezebel died when some people chunked her out of a window and she plummeted to her death.”
(I said that in class today)

The End.

I will explain.

Documents were recently declassified which detailed my involvement in a particular branch of the United States government. Until this time, I have not been allowed to speak freely about my time spent serving our country. I was part of an elite team created primarily for the purpose of extracting political prisoners from territories hostile to the American government. I was recruited as an 18 year old and left for training the summer after my senior year. Of the 5,000 females recruited, only 8 were eventually selected to train and serve on this team. We trained with the Navy Seals, Special Forces, and the Israeli Mossad. We had specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, advanced weaponry, and reconnaissance missions. We were non-military agents serving alongside both the American and Israeli military. Many times, our role was to spend several weeks living in a particular area, gathering information, and preparing the groundwork for prisoner extractions.
After 3 years, our team was compromised and held captive in an undisclosed country. Our escape and the events that followed have been the subject of international investigation for the past 9 years. During the process, my identity was eventually revealed and it became clear that my time as a special agent had come to an end. Details mentioned in the documents have caused concern among a number of family members and friends.

I am writing primarily for those of you who have known me for some time and have been made aware of this new information. I have heard some of you express that you feel somewhat betrayed, as though I’ve been lying to you for the entire duration of our friendship. I would like to assure you, the person you currently know as Kim Berry is who I am. Whatever you know about me is true, our friendship is real, and nothing that I have portrayed is a lie. I have, however, omitted any connection to my former service simply because, until now, it was classified information. As more documents are released, I will be free to discuss in more detail my involvement in various situations. Thank you for your understanding, and I look forward to answering your questions.

(I just wanted to explain why I miss exits on the freeway all the time. Sometimes I am a street kid who became an Olympic athlete, sometimes I save planes that are hijacked, but most the time I win Survivor and interview myself on talk shows.)

My Brothers

I don't have time to write, but I love this picture from Christmas. I think it's hilarious that all my brothers were willing to take this picture. It wasn't even my idea. It was so fun hanging out with everyone!

Friends and Rivers. (episode 1)

I love my friends. I have been blessed beyond measure by the friends God has placed in my life. The following is the first in a series of blogs that will intermittently explain why I love my friends.

Episode one occurred last weekend.
Location: New Braunfels.
Friends: Marc, Drew, Kimo, and Erin.
Setting: a river, a cliff, and a Volkswagen bus.

Marc drives a Volkswagen bus. I like having one good friend who owns a VW bus. Its just fun and it makes me, by default, really cool. However, if you have several friends who own VW busses, you are probably a weirdo.

We loaded up in the bus and headed to the cliff by the river. Wading across the river is freezing in December, but fortunately this time the water was really low.

Then we hiked to the cliff and and rappelled for a while. It was totally fun.

I’m not a fan of heights. I like adventure, but I hate heights. I also hate snakes. As I was rappelling down the cliff, I got to a section of rock that is covered by this thick green vine stuff. Just as I kicked off the rock, a huge red, black, and yellow snake slithered right where my feet were. I freaked out. Fight or flight gets really confusing in a situation like this. I could let go of the rope and plummet to my death (flight), or land on the snake and risk death by poison (fight.) Instead I just stayed on the rock screaming, “There’s a snake, there’s a snake, there’s a snake!” I realized that when it comes down to it, I don’t give a crap if red and black is a friend of Jack. I’m not hanging around long enough to find out. I’m pretty sure I rappelled faster than I ever have in my life.

Anyway, I love my friends because they are fun. I love that we can load up in a bus, go to the river, hang out, and laugh. I love that sometimes we can be deep and serious, but other times we can jump off of rocks or laugh until we hurt. Yep, I love my friends.

Ok, caption contest. Both of these pictures need funny captions. Any thoughts?

First picture, Kimo and Erin.

Second picture, Drew and Kim.

Please share your ideas. :)

Slightly Imbalanced

So there I was, minding my own business, when I heard the distinct sound of an imbalanced load of towels spinning in the washing machine. Annoying, but easy to fix. Open the lid, rearrange the towels, restart the washer. No big deal. As I opened the laundry room door, I stepped into an ocean of raging water. The washing machine was bouncing across the room like a pogo stick as water was violently pouring onto the floor. Something had gone terribly wrong. I quickly splashed over to the washer and hit the button to stop the spinning, but the water kept pouring out of the machine. At that moment, the thought occurred to me that I was standing in water with electrical appliances that were plugged in and running. So I jumped on top of the washer. Yes, that was a good move. Always safer to stand on top of electric devices submerged in water. Water was still gushing onto the floor. I knew I needed to turn off the main valve connected to the wall, but I was still concerned about the electric situation. So I grabbed a sock. Yes, always grab a sock when turning off water valves. I’m not sure what I thought the sock would do, but it did give me enough confidence to grab the valve and stop the surging water. I breathed a sigh of relief and splashed back into the pool at my feet. Still standing in water, I was calmly surveying the scene when my roommate Erin yelled, “The dryer is still on!” With swift cat-like reflexes, I lunged toward the doorway and landed on the carpet, barely escaping with my life.

Erin and I stood there for a while, each quietly realizing how much work we had ahead of us. We don’t have a shop-vac, or anything similar. We have towels and trash cans. The carpet situation was serious enough to merit renting a Rug Doctor from the local grocery store. The hallway was soaked and water extended to nearby closets and walkways. We spent the next 5 hours cleaning. During that period, I had time to reflect on the situation. I had cheated death. Certain disaster was about to wreak havoc on me and my friends, but I had saved the day. Ok, I’ll be honest, that’s how most of my daydreaming starts… major crisis, everyone else freaks out, I am a hero, etc…but I’ll explain that another day. Anyway, I decided to call my brother Paul to see if I really could’ve died. He said no. Apparently, I wasn’t in any danger. He said something about valves and hoses and told me some stuff I should check. He knows these things.

Anyway, I am alive and well. My washer still doesn’t work. It’s leaking water from under the bottom of the whole thing…not the hoses, not the connections, but under the whole machine. Feel free to offer insight or thoughts, or to just come over and fix it. Meanwhile, I will keep daydreaming about saving the world and not being afraid of electricity.

Why the chair?

Location: The teacher bathroom at my school.
Problem: The black chair and the bookshelf.
Question: Why?
Answer: Not sure, but I find them disturbing.

The black chair showed up about a year ago. Awesome. I don’t get to go to the bathroom whenever I want. Teaching just doesn’t allow for it. Finding time to chat with co-workers is also nearly impossible to schedule during a typical day. Imagine my joy when the black chair arrived, and I instantly realized I could chat with my co-workers while using the restroom. Perfect! No thanks. Then, about 6 months ago the bookshelf showed up. Our school has a library, classrooms, teacher’s lounge, and a work room, but somehow the fully-stocked bookshelf landed in the teacher bathroom. I’m a little grossed out by this. Hasn’t everyone seen the discovery channel specials about toilet germs flying out when you flush? I’m pretty sure lots of gross things fly out, swirl around the room, and land on every available surface. I wouldn’t eat a cookie that had been sitting on that shelf all day, so why would I pick up a book that has been collecting toilet funk for months? Anyway, one day when I didn’t have a co-worker to talk to, I checked out some of the titles on the shelf. Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller is a great book (see photo, top shelf.) I read it a year ago, not in the school bathroom. I highly recommend it. In fact, I can send you a copy if you are interested. When you are finished, you can take a swab sample from the cover and grow things in a Petri dish if you want.