The holiday cups are out at Starbucks, which can only mean one thing:
It’s time, kids.
Christmas! I’m in love. I’m in love, and I don’t care who knows it! Starbucks cups herald the commencement of the Christmas season- and if Starbucks says it’s Christmas, then Christmas it shall be. Starbucks does, after all, dictate how I ought to feel and act and think. If Starbucks told me to take up residence with a two eskimos and a yak in an Alaskan igloo, I’d be on a flight to Anchorage within the hour.
I digress.
The entrance of my dearly beloved red holiday cups into a chilly world that could use a little Christmas [right this very minute!] was an auspicious event I’d been anxiously awaiting for two long years. They’re a big deal-my first year in Africa my sweet Mom sent me a package of those cheery Christmas cups, a casual extravagance that I proudly displayed both years.
…I don’t want to talk about how dirty they were by the time I moved. I don’t want to talk about how dirty I was by the time I moved. And while we’re on the subject, let’s all try not to think about how redneck my decorating scheme was.
I’d been longingly waiting for the chance to go get a holiday cup in person-a holiday cup full of fancy-pants coffee, no less! Ben made all of my Christmas cup hopes and dreams come true last week when he surprised me by showing up at my house and taking me to Starbucks. I walked into the world’s most renowned coffee shop, and lit up like Christmas itself.
Ben, on the other hand, doubled over in insuppressible peals of uninhibited laughter at the discovery that the “holiday cups” I’d been gushing over for two years are just that: cups. Not a special drink. Ben is such a man. Bless him. Though Ben and I have had a ball living in the same[ish] place and getting to hang out, we regularly lament the fact that some of our favorite people [read: the dream team] are scattered here, there and everywhere.
I have abandonment issues. I can’t even help it. Thus, it’s time for everybody’s favorite game: “Where are they now?” Given that our team is nowhere to be found, Ben and I decided to settle for the next best thing and take a series of horribly offensive pictures that depict the stereotypes we thrust upon them over the course of our time in Africa.
Christy moved to Oregon for love. We’ve been over this. She’s saving babies, volunteering at a homeless shelter, and going on regular date nights with the boy that stole her far, far away from me.
While Christy is not actually a redneck, we often joke that she is. Mostly because she lives within spitting distance of a Nascar racetrack. I believe we were trying to channel a barn dance here...
Dayton is still working for Cru part time in Kentucky-with [who else?] international students. We text or call each other every time we’re listening to Christmas music, since we’re no-judgement friends. He also directs music at a church part time, and is getting ready to go to grad school.
Dayton was our team piano man and prayer warrior.
Ted is working outside of Charlotte. He volunteers with Big Brother, Big Sister-and just adopted the cuh-UTEST puppy named Charlie.
Playing basketball. Clearly, I knew exactly what I was doing. Ted was our team jock.
Ben is going to seminary, working for Cru part time at Duke, and looking for a wife full-time.
We forgot to take a picture depicting this, but Ben was definitely the team nerd.
And Michelle. Michelle is still in Senegal-adjusting to life with a new [sob!] team, and patiently answering way too many skype calls from me. Follow her adventures HERE.
...I know, I know. Not okay. Except if you're on our team, it is. :)
What’s that you say? What was MY stereotype?
I’ll never tell. ;)
Team-you are dearly missed.
