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Ariane in Iceland, my travels to the OG, New Jersey, Ariane leaves me again for South Carolina, and now I am back in the hometown, the Buckle of the Bible Belt that is Springfield, MO- summer of champions/now I’m an adult and can travel when I want (right?). This blog has now made a full circle- from MO to Manhattan and back again! Don’t worry, I’ll be back in Oz on Wednesday.

Dorothy came back to Kansas Missouri for her best friend’s birthday of the 1-9 variety and to crash her way through the town before school starts. Dorothy texted everyone furiously and viciously, threatening to direct a tornado at anyone who mentioned her arrival to the bestie.

You get the point: I’m Dorthy, MO is Kansas and New York is Oz. Halloween costumes have been determined for a while. So, I got to Penn Station at an unarguably UNGODLY hour and flew via O’Hare (the armpit of the Midwest) into the Missouri River-themed Springfield Branson airport, where James, an oldtime partner in crime, and his college friend, Kristen, met me.  I was informed that Kristen was informed that I was crazy, quote, unquote.  Priceless.  Poor thing.

I surprised Lauren with my effusive presence by driving over to her house early and jumping on her bed and scaring the ever-loving-Jesus out of her. PLOT TWIST: her boyfriend, Adam, was also visiting, so he was another lucky beneficiary of my love and general sparkling personality/he was wrecked by Lauren and I in combination.




Bestie love at 9 AM


Perhaps the only decent photo of the weekend. Myself, Lauren and Adam.


Adam still acclimating to my amazing-ness this early in the morning

After Adam won me over with his hilarity and too-cute-ness-with-Lauren After I threatened Adam with a shotgun and scary devil eyes, we hit the select Springfield standards before gathering for a really lovely dinner at Flame, a pretty classy restaurant in Spfd. Harassment and stories and laughter and gifts and me making Lauren cry with my letter- mah bad, bitty.


Adam and Lauren- too presh for posh.


Adam, Sheryl, myself, Lauren, Courtney (sis) and Nick (sis’ boyfriend). Father Marky K behind the camera.


It’s love.

Also on the agenda was regrouping with my high school girls ensemble (8 girls in total) and recording every song we ever sang. Ever. 3 hours and it was great. This group was pretty special to our teacher, Alberta Smith (also SPS Teacher of the Year– snaps!): we received “1” ratings at state every year that we sang together and tackled difficult music. We were also a pretty rambunctious set of ladies- sassy to the tee. We became “famous” for “our song”, Danny Boy, which usually brought folks to tears. NBD, we do what we do.

Smitty’s YouTube recording:

I enjoyed a $7.25 movie with my dad and sister the next day, a nice change up from foregoing the movies for the ballet at $15. Then, per my birthday gift for Lauren, the two of us met with Craig (Lauren: “Craigles”) for some photos in the bestie form. Think my squinty smiley eyes and Lauren’s gummy gums and our Yankees/Red Sox baseball caps. I think they’ll be real cute.

I’ll be off to bowling tonight with some kiddos. Really, I’m just there to make everyone look good. James and I want bumpers, but we may need to choose our battles. Then some family dinners and friend brunches and lots of work emails in between before taking off on Wednesday morning.

I’m not old enough yet to wax eloquent about my hometown, but it has been nice to catch up with Lauren and harass a few friends. I think I’m more comfortable visiting home after the third try- you expect some things to change, but, as all those songs go, you’re the one who has changed. And then the things you don’t want to change do and the things you do, don’t. And it’s all wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey and I AM JUST TRYING TO GROW UP.

On that note, my next goal is to become a better hugger. Here are the 8 Best Hugs, to which I aspire. I am leaving you a la Ariane to demonstrate my roommate separation anxiety, as she has informed me that she is watching the most emotional episodes of Buffy in order to cope.

Until I see you in Oz,
Martha Scott