Krysten Lindsay Hager - Brunch at Tiffany's

I grew up in a suburb near a GM town. However, even with growing up in that area, and driving mostly GM cars (and a Chrysler or two), my family history lies with Ford. My paternal great-grandfather was a racecar driver and mechanic who worked for Barney Oldfield, the racecar driver who made Ford famous. Great-grandpa was able to race at the Brickyard and later opened his own garage. I still remember visiting Auto World in Flint (a car themed amusement park—see the movie “Roger and Me” ) and going on the car history ride where my dad started getting animated. In the ride, there was a display on the ride of a cigar chomping, scarf wearing Barney Oldfield inside a car while it was worked on by a mechanic. My dad started excitedly pointing to the mechanic saying, “That’s my grandpa! That’s my grandpa!” as he almost fell out of the little amusement park car. My dad later told us when he first heard his grandpa had been a racecar driver, he cracked up saying, “But Grandpa, you drive so slow...

I have to admit I wasn’t prepared for life here. The two people who gave me the best insight about military life were my friend, Jen B, and my cousin, Bill. Bill told me just when you get settled and make friends, either they’ll leave, or you will and that’s becoming the trend. In the last place I lived, I went to more farewell parties in less than a year and a half than I had in my whole life. But here it’s a whole different story. Most people are here for only two years, unless they’re single or unaccompanied, then it’s 18 months. So by the time you arrive, a lot of people you meet are on their way out. I have already said good-bye to the people I was closest to when I first arrived. I didn’t expect to make close friends in such a short period of time and then I did and, poof! Now they’re gone, too. It almost makes me wonder if I would have been better off not getting as close so it wouldn’t be so depressing when they all left. However, then I wouldn’t have made the good frie...

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I thought I'd share one of my newer articles. http://wow-womenonwriting.com/24-FE3-SusanShapiro.html

I was sent this survey and thought I'd share my answers. Survey says... Current mood: animated What does the last comment say? === It was from The Big Bopper--how awesome is that that the Big Bopper would write me from heaven? Shut up, that's my story and I'm sticking to it So what do you want for your birthday? ===I'm still waiting for that pony I asked for at age 3 What color are your eyes? ===that's a very personal question. Are you phishing for credit card info? Police! What are you thinking about right now? ===That it stinks in here and why do I hear a church organ? Are the angels coming to take me away? Or did I leave the TV on? When is the last time you were embarrassed? ===When I thought this woman was somebody's kid, but she was the mom. Are you artistic? ===I can mime like nobody's business What was the last item you bought? ===A Fabrege egg that has a carousel inside with each member of New Kids on the Block riding a different horse as "Ste...

Why didn't I go to Carleton College in Minnesota? Sure I just found out it existed like, this minute, but that's no excuse. It's all picturesque like someplace one of the Wakefield twins (probably Liz, Jessica's too wild for that town) would have gone. Or where Nancy Drew would have gone to college during brief breaks of crime fighting and mystery solving. Instead, I went to school in the inner city just blocks away from the gang-infested ghetto and a stone's throw from Crack Alley, the sun dappled lane where all the drug/rehab meeting are so conveniently located near the drug houses. Brilliant planning on that one. Sure my school had it's perks, but it wasn't all cutesy. And, if I went down to the main campus that had more charm, well, let's just say that the old “charming” buildings stunk. They reeked of charm literally. And downtown Ann Arbor has never been my favorite place although if you want to try Ethiopian food and get a brownie from a place t...

I haven't blogged in a while because I think, as a rule, people shouldn't blog while angry and I've been less than enthusiastic about life since the flood in our place two weeks ago. I had been so excited to move into a renovated apartment and then, just 2 hours into the move, water came up from the sewer drain in the laundry room. I would hold a funeral service for my clothes, shoes, books, and scrapbooking things, but I fear it would be too emotional. So we were eventually moved to a new place across the hall (not pleasantly, mind you) and then our neighbor's place flooded as well. So I'm trying to be positive and not wait for the other shoe to drop. So I'm not even going to mention that fact my bathroom stinks like Snuggle when my upstairs neighbors wash or the fact my new garbage disposal doesn't work or the lack of a drying cycle on my dishwasher. Not even going to bring it up. On to more positive things that don't leave me weeping silent...

There have been so many reunion tours lately that I can't help reminiscing on those days and wondering if Debarge will go on tour...and whether or not that would make the Horsemen of the Apocalypse show up. After the Spice Girls tour did so well I figured the NKOTB would tour again and now they're even doing a single with New Edition. NE was a little before I got into music and I didn't discover them until Bobby Brown went solo and then Johnny Gill came along and they kept talking aobut their old group. I loved Johnny's voice, so I became a NE fan by default. I even went to a New Edition reunion concert...along with a NKOTB one (before they felt too stupid to be called "kids"), a George Michael one, Color Me Badd (in my defense they were performing with Paula Abdul...does this make it better or worse?) and I even saw Tiffany in concert. Jealous? Thought so. However what I wore to the concerts was a crime against humanity. I distinctly remember a...

Well, they're not going to let Boy George into the country to tour. Sigh. A great lost for all of Americans. I'd wear a black arm band to protest, but I'm much too lazy to go find a piece of black material...cut it into arm band...I'm getting tired just thinking about it. Instead I will sit in the dark and listen to "Karma Chameleon" and "Bow Down Mister" until the neighbors complain. My only hope is that he'll be able to tour in the States in two years and then I'll be in the front row of the concert. Until then I'll just have to admire his talent for applying eyeliner (seriously, nobody does it better) and enjoy his music on my own.

When do I leave the country? Except for a brief trip to Canada here and there, practically never. So why then are George Michael, New Kids on the Block (they only call themselves NKOTB because they feel stupid being called "kids" at 40-something) and now Boy George touring the U.S.? Answer: to be cruel. I would love to go to see all the acts on tour, but no, stick me on an island far away from society so I can't. I'd like to think that since all of George Michael's arrests came immediately after I got engaged and then married, that he was struggling to deal with the pain. That being said I do own some lovely real estate known as the Brooklyn Bridge. In my sick mind I can rationalize that it was too painful for NKOTB (especially Jon, he was my favorite) and George to tour with me out of the country because it would be too painful to see me now. But really I'm owed a NKOTB concert. I did go to one as a kid, but at the height of their popularity my cous...

When we first got here we were told to explore the island and, "don't worry, you can't get lost on an island." Lies. You can get lost on an island especially when they have detours that take you down teensy tiny streets with no street signs and no indication if it's one way and, if it is, which way you're supposed to go. We've had a few issues trying to navigate around those narrow streets, but thought we were getting to know our way around. Then came Sunday. One thing about this place is there's always a Portuguese holiday and there's always a festival. So on our way home from exploring some volcano rock (I used to go to museums, now I look at steaming rocks, what's wrong with this picture? And does my insurance cover volcanic eruptions?), we found the road we needed to take blocked by a festival. It was ten p.m., and this place doesn't believe in adequate street lights, so we took a tiny, narrow road, ran into traffic confusio...

When I first found out I'd be moving to the Azores my response was, "Where is that?" I'm not a geography master, but I had never heard of it. I even misspelled it when I tried to "Google" it. Then, when I finally found it, it appeared it was right off the coast of Portugal. I imagined myself taking a little ferry over to mainland Portugal twice a week where I could shop and wander around the downtown wearing fabulous European clothes and heels. Then I was at a furniture store and looked at a globe. Apparently much like mapmakers like to stick Alaska and Hawaii at the bottom of the page as if they're south of California and within yachting distance of each other, the map I saw was off...900 miles off. There is no way to take a ferry from the Azores to Portugal unless you have a death wish. So I found out the cruel reality that I was going to live in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. As for me wandering around downtowns in cute outfits and...