Daily anti-joke: kskristy style

I set the oven mitt on fire again today.

You’d’ve thought I’d learned my lesson after the great muffin disaster… yeah, not so much.

Somebody send me back to kindergarten, or cooking 101, or wherever it is that they teach you how to not set kitchen accessories on fire.


The structural integrity of my house depends on it.


But do y’all know what’s better than setting an oven mitt on fire?


A beautiful sunset picture.

And that was your daily anti-joke: kskristy style.

For those of you who are completely confounded and confused, perplexed and puzzled, let me explain. An anti-joke is is a type of comedy in which the listener is set up to expect a typical joke, but the joke ends with such anticlimax that it becomes funny in its own right. The lack of punchline is the punchline.

I’m sorry. I really think anti-jokes are corny. But certain friends of mine have had a negative influence on me and fill my life with anti-jokes on a regular basis.

If you’re reading this, you know who you are.

And y’all better enjoy this one moment of glory because I will never tell an anti-joke again.


Instead, I’m going to work on finding a 12-step program that helps people who suffer from destructive behaviors like repetitively igniting oven mitts.

Wish me luck.

The beginning of the end

Well, I’m a grown up now. I don’t know when this happened, but it happened.

Yesterday I moved into a house with nine fabulous women. A real house. Not a dorm. I am so excited about this.

Tomorrow is my first day of my senior year of college.


I can’t believe I’m in this place in life. One year of undergrad left and potentially three years of law school to go.

I have been studying so much for the LSAT this week. So much that I have not even taken a single photo. I’m sorry.

There is this little gem though.

Amidst my LSAT studying, I had to take a break and do something fun and relaxing. So I skimmed through the random folder of photos on my desktop that I recently pulled off my portable hard drive and brought up this picture I took last fall.

I loved the colors and serenity of the image. Bright and happy. Peaceful and calming. All at once.

Hmmm… sounds like my life.

The possibilites on the horizon are bright and exciting and I can’t wait to see where I’ll be this time next year. And even though so many details in my life are unknown, I still have incredible peace. I have no idea how I got to this point in my life, but that gives me even more peace because I know without a doubt that all of this is the Lord’s doing. And I know His plans are perfect.

Now… bring on senior year!

My 4th of July… without America

The 4th of July is one of my favorite holidays, second only to Thanksgiving.

I love everything about the 4th: summer, red, white and blue everywhere, classic car shows, small town parades, barbecues, friends, family, homemade ice cream, sweet tea. Oh yes, I love it all.

Yesterday was my first time to be out of America on Independence Day. It was a strange and sad feeling.

We had a party here at the center with a lot of people and a lot of food (for real… I’ve hardly eaten today because I’m still so full), but still it wasn’t the same as celebrating America’s independence in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

I found some pictures on my computer of the fireworks show my hometown put on last year. I loved looking at them and reminiscing.

Out town actually wasn’t even allowed to have a fireworks show this year because we’re under a burn ban. Maybe I’m selfish, but it made me feel a little better knowing I wasn’t missing out on as much of the fun 4th festivities all my friends and family were getting to partake in.

Here are a few of my favorite fireworks photos. Enjoy.

(I’ll be back to Spain photos later this week. Moorish castles, cityscape panoramas and flamenco dancers are yet to come!)


Much love and God bless America,


España photos – day 19

Hey y’all!

It’s been a busy work week here, so I don’t have too many new photos. But I do have a couple of good stories for you. Welcome to Kristy’s Life in Spain: Volume 5.

In my first post from Spain, I showed y’all a photo of the view from my balcony. (If you missed it, click here.) If you look at that photo and imagine the panorama extending a little more to the left, you would see a bit of the Mediterranean Sea.

Usually there is a haze that hangs over the Sea and I don’t get to see much of the water, unless you count the fuzzy blue shape off in the distance where there are no more buildings as being water…

Personally, I prefer my ocean/sea views to be crystal clear. ‘Cause that’s what I’m used to seeing in Kansas, you know.

Anyway… the haze cleared off for part of the day on Saturday and I got my first real view of the Mediterranean from my balcony. I was so excited.

I even saw a ship!


A real ship!

We don’t have ships in Kansas.

We have combines. And tractors.

But no ships.

So this was a pretty big deal.


Also… I did laundry for the first time in Spain on Saturday. It was an interesting experience.

Washing machines in Spain are funky. Observe.



Does this remind anybody else of a Walkman?

Those were the days. I remember I had a three-cassette collection of instrumental music and I listened to them all the time. Chariots of Fire and Music Box Dancer were my faves. Saying that makes me feel old.

I’m not old enough to feel old.

It’s a problem.

Anyway, I loaded the Walkman washing machine with bed sheets and towels and consulted my handy dandy guidebook on how to actually operate the thing.

I selected a program with hot water that would be appropriate for towels and sheets and other things that you normally wash in hot water. My momma done taught me right. Mmhmm.

But what Momma-dear didn’t teach me (because it’s not an option in the US) is how to select a spin cycle speed.

This is what a spin cycle speed selector looks like. (I totally just felt like I had super powers while typing that out. Spin cycle speed selectors to the rescue!)


I was all ready to start my towels a’washin’ when I realized I hadn’t set the spin speed. I consulted the handy dandy Walkman washing machine guidebook, but there was no guidance to be found on how to choose the right speed.

So I had to make an educated guess. Enter Kristy’s thought process…

Towels are pretty resilient. You are supposed to wash them on a hot setting after all.

And bed sheets too. To kill the mites and stuff.


Gross. I sleep on mites? Or are they bed bugs? Is there a difference?

Focus, Kristy.

Hot water. Yes.

Spin speed? Uuhhhhh????

Let’s decide this with an analogy.

Hot water = tough. Tough = high spin speed (to kill the mites and stuff, of course). Highest spin speed on the Walkman washing machine = 1000.

1000 what?

I don’t know, but that’s as high as it goes. Let’s go with that.

Spin those mites right out of my sheets. Suckers.

As it turns out, that wasn’t exactly the best decision.

Remember several months ago when I had a consecutive string of fails and flops? I baked my first ever pan of bad brownies (but that was so not my fault, it was the corn oil), I colored Snow White with vampire teeth (again, not my fault, the colored pencil was defective), I embarrassed myself into eternity and beyond by mucking up a drawing of my home state (totally not my fault, the Sharpie was dry and I was trying to hide the fact that I was taking paint off the wall of a brand new coffee shop).

All ridiculous moments in my life where things just didn’t go well for me. (If you missed them, click here to revisit the fiascos in all their agonizing glory. Agonizing for me. Not for you. Funny for you.)

Anyway, the Walkman-washing-machine spin-cycle-speed-selector went down with a similar fracas.

I set the spin speed to 1000 whatever, thinking I would end up with the cleanest, most mite-less sheets known to man and went on my happy, merry way.

About an hour and a half later (wash cycles in Europe seriously take about two hours, sometimes more) I heard a terribly loud, repetitive noise that at first sounded like gunshots.

I followed the noise to the bathroom where the clamor got worse, because as I discovered, the washing machine was not only in the throes of the most violent spin cycle I could have ever imagined, it was shaking so violently that it was propelling itself out away from the wall and banging itself into the door frame next to it.

I wish I could describe what I felt in that moment. It was truly something else.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest because I had been so startled by the awful onset of the spin cycle commotion.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest because I was mad at the dumb washing machine for making so much noise and scaring me right out of my skin.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest because I was laughing so hard at the whole absurd situation.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest because of the “oh-crap” adrenaline that filled my whole body when I remembered there was a ladies meeting occurring at that very moment right below my apartment.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest because I was laughing so hard at the thought of what those poor ladies must have been thinking when they heard this terrible racket.

I basically had a myocardial infarction right there on the spot.

But I survived.

Now there are no dryers here, so once the laundry is washed, you have the option of either hanging it outside on a clothesline or on a drying rack inside.

Well, my little country girl heart opted for the outdoor clothesline (it’s so Little House on the Prairie, and I am all about nostalgia.)

Once the Walkman washing machine quit trying to launch itself into orbit, I pulled the towels out and pinned them to the clothesline on my balcony like a true Spanish Laura Ingalls Wilder. Observe.

The laundry hanging had gone off without a hitch. I had enough clothespins, I didn’t fall off the chair and die when I hung the towels on the higher line, the breeze was blowing, the laundry would be dry soon.


I went on my happy, merry way and came back to take the sheets and towels in a few hours later.

I got down to the very last daggum sheet before I noticed it.


Bird poop.

All over my clean laundry.

Good grief. This would happen to me.

I just laughed and shook my head and took the laundry inside to start the whole process over again.

But this time, I set the spin cycle speed to 400 and that’s as low as it would go.

I love Spain.

And all its adventures.


Until next time, much love,


España photos – day 12

Wow. Wow, wow, wow. Some days I still can’t believe I’m actually in Spain getting to do and see so many amazing things. That thought hit me again this weekend when I went to Granada to help shoot video footage for a project some people here at the center are working on.

I learned how to record audio, shot some great photos to accompany the video, got to tour lovely Granada and it was all in a day’s work!

I love my internship.

We left Thursday morning and it took us about two hours to travel from Málaga to Granada. Here’s a map for all you visual people (like me).


I absolutely loved seeing the countryside during our drive. There are mountains! Big, tall mountains. The Sierra Nevada Mountains to be exact.

I never would have guessed there would be such diverse terrain in this area. Málaga is right on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, but drive north an hour and you’ve got beautiful hills and olive groves, drive another hour and you’ve got snow-capped peaks.

This Kansas girl is used to flat, dry land as far as the eye can see. New experiences abound everywhere in Spain.

Here are a few shots I took as we walked around the city.






It’s just like Holes!

And let me tell you, Granada was just about hot enough to feel like the desert in Holes. Málaga has been hot, but not compared to Granada. Málaga usually has a nice breeze blowing in off the Mediterranean which keeps it about 10-15 degrees cooler than inland cities like Granada.


Plants are a big deal. Obviously.


Plants may be big, but doors are not. This was seriously the front door to a house.


I just had to throw in a picture of the tapas we had. The cheese was amazing. And the wine. Not the olives. I don’t like olives. But I like olive oil.

I don’t understand myself sometimes…




This guy is the reason we went to Granada in the first place. He is a graffiti artist with a pretty cool testimony.

And if I knew Spanish, I would tell you about it.

But I don’t, so I won’t. Sorry.

I’ll just show you more photos.






So that was graffiti in Granada.

It took us all day to get our footage and photos. Half of our team went back to Málaga at 10 that night, but myself and another girl stayed behind to go to feria.

Now, I don’t exactly know what a feria is other than it’s some sort of Catholic thing and people dress up in flamenco dresses (well, women dress up, I should say) and go dancing. There’s also food and rides. Kind of like the Kansas State Fair.

Minus the Pronto Pups.

And the giant butter cow sculpture.

If any of y’all have been to the Kansas State Fair, you know what I’m talking about. If not, you need to go. It’ll change your life.

My friend scored some real flamenco dresses for us to wear to the feria and they were super fun!

I might have looked Spanish for the night, but I still felt like a guiri (pronounced similar to the English word giddy). Guiri is the slang word Spaniards use for non-Spaniards.


Forgive me. It was dark and I am totally, completely, 100 percent against using my built-in flash, so the lighting is horrible in the following photos.

But you get the gist.


You must have a flower in your hair for feria.

Real Spaniard women wear their flowers directly on top of their head, dead center.

I opted out of that. I like my flower where it is.


My lovely friend.


At feria!



Welcome to feria. There are lights everywhere.



This was cool. There were people in giant hamster balls running around on the water. If I hadn’t been in a super tight flamenco dress, I would have tried it out myself.


These are legit flamenco dancers. Notice the flower dead center on the top of their heads.


Now… story time.

We got to feria at 1:00 in the morning. We left at 3:00. We didn’t get back to our hostel until 5:00.


We took the wrong bus.

It was a disaster.

The city runs special buses during feria that are just for feria, so I guess we assumed that as long as we got on one of the feria busses, it would take us back to where we got on.


We ended up way far away from our hostel in some really quiet part of town. We got off the wrong bus and walked for a long time until we found another bus stop. We thought it was the right bus stop.


We walked some more. And some more.

And some more.

And then we saw a bus. We flagged it down, hoping it would be the right bus.


The bus driver told us to wait at a nearby stoplight for the right bus that would be coming by there in just a few minutes.

Red flag anyone?

Why would we wait for a bus at a place that was not a bus stop?

Because the bus driver was wrong.

We waited at that stop light for over half an hour.

That same wrong bus passed by again twice, but still no right bus.

And then finally, finally!, we saw a taxi.


We ran out in the middle of the street and waved our arms and flagged that blessed taxi down.

Surely it would be able to take us to our hostel, right?


Or so the driver said.

He had to go switch out his car. That’s all I got out of the conversation.

And then he drove away.

I almost died.

But then my friends kept walking. They were following the taxi.

What in the world?

Turns out, the taxi driver only had to go a couple of blocks and meet up with another driver who was going to take the car for his shift.

Thank you Jesus, praise the Lord. We had a taxi.

We got back to the hostel we were staying at at 5:00 in the morning.

And the hostel is a whole ‘nother story in itself.

Let me show you.


This is a picture I took of a stairwell in the hostel earlier in the day. The building was 400 years old and in the middle of being renovated.

Now, as cool as it was to be staying in a building older than my home country, I saw a fiasco looking for a place to happen.

And boy did it ever.

Let me set the scene for y’all…

It’s 5:00 in the morning. I am deader than a doornail tired (so tired in fact, I’m mixing idioms) and I haven’t peed for hours.

My bladder is about to burst.

(Sorry, but it’s the truth. I’m not ashamed to tell you that I was about to pee my pants.)

I have to make it up six flights of stairs before I can get to a bathroom.

In a tight dress. That means no running.

So I waddle/skip/potty-dance up the stairs and have to fiddle around with two separate keys to unlock two separate doors.


Finally, I get the doors open and try to quietly find my way to the bathroom.

Mind you, it’s 5:00 in the morning. People are sleeping. It’s dark. I’m in a strange hostel with furniture placed in places that I don’t know it’s been placed in. I’m bumping into things, knocking things over, the whole shebang.

I really am trying to be quiet, but I gotta go… if you know what I’m saying.



I find the bathroom.

I go in, shut the door and flip the lightswitch.

It doesn’t work.

Yeah. That’s right… the lightswitch doesn’t work.

Sweet Jesus, help me.

I take 0.43 seconds to evaluate my options.

Girl’s gotta pee.

For real.

So I feel my way around the bathroom like a blind person until I find the toilet. I make sure the lid is up (gotta cover all my bases, otherwise things could have been bad-news-bears) and I shimmy the zipper down on my dress.

I’ll stop there and save y’all from being scarred for life, but let me just throw one more kink in the wrench (yes, I know that’s another mixed idiom, but it’s what I’ve always said, so it stays) by mentioning the fact that there was no toilet paper.

I’m sorry.

That’s gross.

I’m done now.

Sort of.

I’m done with horrible natural human function stories. (I’m sorry, that was gross too wasn’t it?)


This hostel just kept getting better and better.

After the bathroom disaster, I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep on a rock.

Wait, what?

I wanted to go to sleep on a bed.

But the bed might as well have been a rock as hard as it was.


My pillow was covered in stains and hair (not mine).

I had to shove a nightstand in front of the door to keep it closed because it kept swinging open on its own.

There was a vicious cat fight outside my window at 6:00. I’m pretty sure one of the cats died from the sound of things. I was six stories up and I had earplugs in and it still sounded awful.

And that was my hostel experience.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad it happened. I love having crazy adventures like that. Plus, I feel like everybody needs to have one or two bad hostel stories in their lifetime. Now I’ve got mine.


Welcome to the Ritz Carlton.

We have dirtied your pillow and carved your mattress out of cement. Compliments of the house.

Also, we will provide you with gruesome animal noises just as you are about to finally fall asleep in order to provide you with the finest luxury experience.

Thank you for staying with us, we hope to see you again soon.

I may be exaggerating just a little bit, but like I said, it wasn’t that bad all things considered. The view outside my window was even kind of pretty.



But it sure felt good to get back to Málaga the next day.


All in all, I had a great trip to Granada, and I will definitely remember it for the rest of my life.

Now… bring on more adventures!


Coloring fail

I loved coloring when I was little.

I still kind of do.

But some days I just don’t have the patience for it. Especially when using colored pencils. I prefer to color with crayons.

I realize that aesthetically speaking, colored pencils probably produce a prettier picture (oh hey there alliteration) but I just love crayons so much more. One, because of the smell. Have you ever smelled anything that even closely resembles a crayon? Not I. There’s just something about it that makes me feel like a happy little six-year-old. Two, because it takes less effort to cover the same amount of blank page. Does that make me lazy? Maybe. I prefer to say that it allows me to be more productive, to color more pictures in less time. It’s all about efficiency. This is what college has done to me.

Anyway, I tried my hand at coloring again a couple days ago. I figured, what the heck, it’s spring break, I have no homework to do, maybe I don’t need to be productive and efficient for once.

So I colored.


One, I figured out it’s not as easy as one would think to distinguish a blue colored pencil from a purple one.


Two, I figured out my childhood memories have failed me because I clearly do not remember the correct colors of Snow White’s dress.


The blue should be yellow, the yellow should be red and the red should be blue. Fail.

Three, I learned that a colored pencil should be completely sharpened before coloring lips. Especially if you intend to color Snow White’s lips red and want her teeth to remain white. Snow White is now a vampire.


But you know, despite all my coloring failures, I actually kind of like the way the picture turned out.


Mixed up, not perfect, yet still pretty and colorful in its own way.

Find your own pretty today.

Much love,


Oh give me a home…

Hello from Arkansas!

I made it back to college on Tuesday and have been loving every minute of it! These first few days of the semester are always fun. Everybody is excited to see each other and hang out after a month of being gone and nobody has a lot homework yet so it’s kind of like one big party!

Wait, isn’t college like that all the time?

It is for me. Homework? What’s that? How have I survived three years of classes again?

Never mind…

I was skimming through some photos today that I shot over Christmas break and I got a little nostalgic for my beloved Kansas.

I love the “big sky country” and I already miss my big Kansas sunsets.

You can’t see this in Arkansas. At least not on campus. Too many trees.

I even miss the ice and snow.

The weatherman was calling for a big snowstorm in our area of Kansas a couple days before I was supposed to leave for Arkansas and I got so excited. I was actually going to have a chance to play in the snow! I haven’t played in snow for years.

Well, a quarter inch of ice, half an inch of snow and two days later and I was headed down the highway.

Old man winter may have missed my house with his buckets full of snow, but the road department definitely did not forget to ice the roads. Six hours of slush and dirt and salt later, I arrived in Arkansas.

Anyway, the dusting of ice and snow made for some nice pictures from my last day at home.

I’ll especially miss the deer that came to graze in our field every night. There were usually at least 10 of them out there during the evening and sometimes I would just stand at my window and watch them. What beautiful creatures they are!

Seeing them always reminded me of the Kansas state song.

Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam, where the deer and the antelope play…

But.. just fyi: we don’t like antelope in Kansas. They tear up our fences.

So we’ll just keep the deer. I think they’re prettier anyway.

Happy times and happier times

Drumroll, please.

Duuuuuurrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmm….. symbol crash.

I finished my fifth semester of college classes today!

Fertig. Finito. Finished. Done.

Now I just have to make it through a couple of not-too-hard finals and I’m home free!

Oh what a feeling, what a wonderful emotion… (name that song!)

I love college. I really do. It’s such a blessing to go to such a great school and have the opportunity to learn about things I love every day. I’ve had great profs this semester, I’ve had great classes.

But I’m so ready to be done.

I’m ready to…


–read a book for fun


–use my computer for something other than writing papers


–cook my own food instead of eating in the cafeteria

–sleep, sleep, sleep.

One week from now I will be living the good life of a college kid home on Christmas break.


It will be a happy time.

I was reminded of even happier times last night as I was organizing the hundreds of files of photos on my computer.

I was skimming through a photoshoot I did for a friend of mine back in October. She’s an RA in one of the dorms and for a hall activity she and her fellow RA decided to take their girls out on a photoshoot. I had the wonderful privilege of being the event photographer.

It was super fun looking at the photos and reminiscing and seeing such happy faces. Faces that weren’t tired and sick and drained from a rigorous semester of studying and rhetoric.

I have beautiful friends.

See for yourself.

Amidst the photos of all these beautiful women, I stumbled onto another little gem.

Isn’t this flower just amazing?

The colors… oh, the colors. They are simply stunning. A computer screen absolutely does not do them justice.

This pretty flower was in bloom just two short months ago.

There’s no way you’re gonna find a flower anywhere outside this time of year. Not a live one anyway.

Nothing is alive outside.

Remember the post from about a month ago where I put up a picture of the vibrant view out my window? I thought about taking a picture today from the same place and doing a compare and contrast thing for this post.

But I couldn’t bear to do it.

It’s just so gray outside.

Gray and dreary.

I’m not a fan.

I know winter is one of God’s perfect creations too, and bless it, I know it’s probably wonderful, but it’s to daggum cold for me.

I admit it has been a milder winter so far in Arkansas, but I’m going back home to Kansas in less than a week and I know what’s waiting for me.

Winters in Kansas go a little like this…



–no snow


It’s lovely.

So, being the optimist that I am, I have devised the perfect, happy plan.

I will go home, sit on my couch with a mug full of coffee, read a book for fun, take a nap, and print this photo out huge then tape it to every window in my house and convince myself it’s actually summer.


(soon to be) cold in Kansas… aka: kskristy

The view outside my window


A season of color, of crispness in the air, of Kristy wearing flip flops like they’re going out of style (because they literally will in a month or two).

I usually enjoy fall… until it gets cold. Which is always too soon for me. But, in all seriousness, I admit that I love the colors of this season.

I was sitting at my desk this afternoon trying to focus on writing a research paper, but I was distracted by the view outside my window.

My desk is right by the window and I love/hate it. It’s good for my soul and bad for my grades.

Today, as I gazed at the beautiful scenery outside my window, I couldn’t help but think that the vista I was seeing was the quintessential picture of fall.

So I got out my camera and snapped a few shots.

I’m glad I did, because about 10 minutes later as I was editing them, a bunch of big white clouds rolled in and obliterated the beautiful blue sky that had just been there moments ago.

Here are the finished products, and what will probably be the last few photos of fall.

Winter is coming all too soon.

Praise God for his beautiful creation. These photos might just get me through the winter, after all.

Much love,


Colors of Mayfield

Mayfield, the all-female dorm on campus, had a paint war last weekend and I had the privilege of being the event photographer.

Thanks, ladies! Y’all were a blast.

Here’s a sneak peek of the event.

This is college life at its finest right here.

Who needs homework when you have buckets of paint and a sunny afternoon?

Homework is overrated.

Bless you for not getting paint on my camera.

And here is the winning team: down middle. You are all so cute and happy. Congrats, girls!

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