Look Grandpa, a New Post.

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Cami's return to Cowtown thus the commencement of the Cowtown chronicles! (ooh..I like the sound of that). I know you all have been refreshing and re-refreshing your computer screens day after day, awaiting the moment when I finally resume my writing. And alas, here I am.

A lot has changed since we've spoken last. For starters, I am a Sophomore (but feeling like a Freshman more than ever before). I am more internationally-versed, thanks to a deliciously wonderful trip to Europe this summer. I am living off campus in an apartment. I am cooking heating up cans of soup. And most of all, I have more than just a square box to move around in; let the dancing begin. (My roommates love when I sing and dance. Love it.) Today was also my very first day of classes, reminding me that yes, I am still here to actually get a degree. Seems I tend to forget that little detail.

This past week without school has not been without it's own shennanigans-but most of them include me trying to do this whole grown-up thing and failing miserably. Being inadequate at putting together a desk? Check. Making cookies without sugar? Double check. Hanging a command strip upside down? Yep. Putting up a necklace rack that plummeted to it's death in the middle of the night, causing me to wake up in a state of terror and panic? Oh yes. But arguably my biggest #fail moment of the week has been "misplacing" the key to poor Shelly's lock...(for those wondering, she was finally reunited with her basket. Then this happened. Some lil' bikes can't catch a break).

Earlier this week as I was pondering where the key might be, I simply ignored any pressing suspicions that I may have lost it, instead choosing to believe that it was "somewhere in the apartment". A few days later I begin to casually look around for it. I continued the search with more and more haste until it became somewhat of a panic. Yep, I had definitely lost my bike key. The even bigger problem, is that Shelly is locked to, essentially, the cement below my complex. So I did what any one would do-I turned to the all-knowing, all-powerful YouTube. Much to my delight (or terror, not sure which), I discovered that people actually make videos on how to break open U-Locks. The struggle; they were all men. With muscles. Brianna and I mutually convinced ourselves that together, we would have enough strength to pry it open. ...I will save you the details, but 24 hours later and the lock is still fully intact. And the key is still nowhere to be found.

Well thank the Lord for Unitrans, our bus system. I managed to get to campus easy enough, made it to my first class (Ideologies of Design. My professor is very British and has very good hair. That's about all I got out of today). But upon trying to journey home...I missed my bus. And the second one. And the third. Oh no, you see, I was at the bus station on time. I saw the bus pull up, walked right up to it's doors, and EVERY time the cranky bus driver shut the doors in my face and drove off. #@*&%! What should have taken 8 minutes, took me 2 1/2 hours, by the time I finally got on a bus. Which, by the way, involved practically knocking out those around me to ensure I got on first. These are the benefits of being a second year.

I am wishing on a star that bus debacles and idiotic slip-ups are behind me. I believe Sophomore year will be filled with adventures of epic proportions; especially now that I have Wuzzy here with me! Part of me-okay, all of me- can't believe that the little fellah is still kickin', but he has not failed me yet! And though I'm sure I will become a part-time chauffeur of all my friends, it's worth it to be able to drive to Target. And line dancing. (Oh don't worry, I'm already planning a LD night on my birthday next week). Some things never change.

So concludes my first week back in cowtown. Believe it or not, I already miss the scent of cows in my backyard...yeeaaaaahhh maybe not.