The Great Flood.

I interrupt this travellog in order to keep you all updated on current events. It's a generous service I provide here, I know.

So...there's some flooding going on. Maybe you've heard of it--water in places outside the bounds man has set for it.

There's also a little cottage in southern Wisconsin called "The Lake" on the shores of Lake Koshkonong--which, I've just learned, is actually NOT a lake but a bulge in a river...in which case the cottage may need to be renamed...and which is also more than I can say for my sister who just learned that there's actually a lake there. My grandpa used to live in this cottage so when I was young my family would spend most of our vacations visiting him. I won't bore you with nostalgic details of the things we would do there. Just know the cottage has been in the family for a while and now that my grandpa has passed away my dad owns it and has spent many weekends down there getting things ship-shape...just in time for...
Instead of wading through waist-deep water for 100 yards to get to the cottage my parents and aunt and uncle used a canoe. Yep, a tippy canoe. Then they lugged all the ruined furniture to higher ground. Aah...just like the flood of '59...or was it '58...no, no it was '59.

Mykonos

This is where the real party started--and I'm not being trite: Full Moon Party, Paradise Beach, 1:00 am. We may have arrived there 38 hours fashionably late but I can assure you we didn't miss out on any of the fun...ok, so maybe we missed some of the dancing...or, all of the dancing...but there was still plenty to see.

Mykonos marked the beginning of our island adventures with cobblestone streets, whitewashed buildings, colorful doorways, clear blue water, and feral kitties...lots and lots of roaming beady-eyed cats...and waitresses.

Our hotel was just off the beach. A beach aptly named Agios Stefanos. It was a typically whitewashed building with bright red doors and shutters. Despite the fact that we got bread and diluted orange juice for breakfast, the beds had petrified mattresses, and the shower curtain could have been cited for sexual harrassment...we loved it. I think because it was our first.
In order to give ourselves some recovery time we headed to a beach called Platy Gialos. There we made friends with Massager Boy--an actual title, not a nickname--and spent some time both seaside and poolside. Gretchen and I got in trouble for trying to investigate a church...we were kind of scaling a hill and she was about to climb the wall...so instead we snuck into a hotel pool. Later we bought dinner from a different hotel and earned some pool time just above the Meditteranean.
We spent the remainder of the day wandering around Mykonos Town and stumbled across 16th century windmills--you know, the kind you would expect midget archers to inhabit and shoot flaming arrows out of. Down the hill from there was an area called Little Venice where we ate dinner just off the beach...again, watched the sunset, took 50 pictures of an authentic Greek man and his paper mache bagpipe, encountered Petros the pelican--the Mykonos mascot, and had a Canadian kindly tell us his country is bigger than ours.
Not bad for a first day, I'd say.

New York

We kicked off our Greek vacation with a relaxing weekend in the Big Apple where we saw almost everything but a broadway musical. Not for lack of trying mind you. In fact, we arranged our whole first day around attempts at tickets in the lottery, fitting the Met(ropolitan Museum of Art) between two showings of Wicked. Our luck was so bad that our friends were 3 of 6 people who failed to win in a group of 20 vying for tickets to Hairspray. I know, it's almost inconceivable, but somehow we made it happen. Perhaps that's why we took matters of tourism into our own hands and tried to break into Carnegie Hall...legally. We merely acted like we had somewhere to go, which we did, and strutted right into--drumroll please--a random hallway. Yep. So we moved on. We walked around so much that day that our joints were screaming for vengeance...which we almost took out on the people who made us walk around in circles looking for a place to eat dinner. As a result, when McCall's old boss met us for lunch the next day in a car we seduced him...with our wit and natural charm...we may go to nude beaches in Greece but we're still good LDS girls. He drove us to see the Statue of Liberty and then Central Park. In return we bought him a hot dog. Him and the bum who demanded a papaya drink to wash it all down. In this day and age, beggars apparently can be choosers.

Bart wasn't the only one kind enough to take care of us. Of course none of this would have been possible if not for our sponser, Caleb, who sacrificed his room, his bed, his air mattress, his puppy, and his soul for us. He even made us an elaborate breakfast after we got in at 6:30 am that first day...not to mention dinner a couple days later. We gave him a cupcake.

We rounded out our visit with a trip to H&M where I managed to spend more than Stef despite buying one less item of clothing--which, if you know either of us, is indeed noteworthy--and Canal Street where I spent no money whatsoever. Then we bid adieu to the land of capitalism and reasonably sized showers and spent the next 9 hours on a plane vacillating between semi-conciousness and extreme discomfort.

Hello life, goodbye Greece.

For two blissful weeks I completely forgot I had a blog. I also completely forgot I had a life outside of harried picture taking, expensive souvenir shopping...and shopping...and shopping, beaker feta cheese, and an infinity in my swimsuit. It's understandably easy to do when you're living in a postcard. Not only did I temporarily postpone life as I knew it, I permanently left my job. Good thing because I took home the extra chocolate muffins from my farewell party and lived off of them for the next few days.
Now I'm back to the land of screaming babies and anti-Mormon sentiments. I did wake up in my own much needed comfortable bed to a thunderstorm this morning. In that small thing Utah gained back some points--the hail was a little much, though. My hair finally feels clean and my legs have had an adequate shave. For the next couple weeks I'll be writing about nothing more than my trip so brace yourself.

I was always really good at taking tests.

Well, folks, I got a job. I will be working at ARUP Laboratories as a client services rep. It's a job that only requires a high school diploma...and a drug test. Yes, I have a college degree but it's turned out to be an invalid. Which, I suppose, is why I've decided to get another one.

Four years. Mechanical engineering. At the U. I'm not kidding. I might be crazy...but I'm not kidding.

I found a picture that has accurately captured my feelings on this matter:

Shall we take a closer look?