A Field Trip to the Durham Museum of Life and Science

Aadit is on Spring break this week, so we decided to take a few field trips to spend time together outside of the monotony of schoolwork that we've become so accustom to this semester. Today's field trip destination: The Museum of Life and Science in Durham. Aadit, being the animal expert that he is, has a membership to said museum and was so excited to show me around. So after a quick lunch, we were on the way.

Aadit already has me all figured out--he knew I'd want to take pictures of our day so he explained all the opportunities for great pictures we'd have throughout the museum, and this picture was an Aadit original and our first stop.

Our first exhibit was the Farm Animals exhibit, where Aadit laughed at my disapproval of the smell. His favorite animals in this part were the sheep and cow.
Next we walked through the butterfly conservatory and Aadit jumped back every time a butterfly floated by too close for comfort. Then, I reluctantly followed him through the insect exhibit and he laughed as I screamed at each creepy, crawling beetle, cockroach, and spider in the (too thin, in my opinion) glass cages. This is when Aadit decided he wanted to take the rest of the animal pictures, and he filled my camera with pictures of bugs for me to "always remember". (He is quite sarcastic for a 9-year-old) For the mental health of everyone reading this (and myself), those bug pictures will not be posted. He did, however, capture a great frog image that he said looks like they are in their natural habitat.Aadit practically dragged me to the next exhibit--his favorite in the entire museum: Explore the Wild. He was so excited about seeing the American Black Bear that he skipped in front of me the entire way, though I was able to get him to stop for one picture together before venturing on.

He slung my camera around his neck and took pictures of the bears for the next 45 minutes, playing with and laughing at the zoom feature and trying to capture each movement of the five bears we saw. Although I loved watching this little photographer at work, he continually turned around every few pictures and said, "Now I will take just a few more."

Of all the pictures he took, his favorite was one in which he called "the crazy zoom picture," where only the bear's fur is visible. He laughed about that picture the entire day. After seeing the bears, we walked down to the wolf and lemur exhibit, though it was too chilly for either species to be out and about. With one more visit to the bears, and after waving to the cameras which allowed visitors to zoom in on the bears in the exhibit (one of my silly ideas he thought was so funny), we were on our way home.

Next up this week is a bike ride through their community park and trip to the UNC Morehead Planetarium! I'll keep you posted!

Happy Monday,

Nicole

Tyler's Visit and a UNC Campus Tour

I love when Tyler comes to Chapel Hill. We turn his weekend visits into adventures--making spontaneous trips to Wilmington, museums in Raleigh, stand up comedy shows, the art gallery on Franklin Street, or in this case, the Eno River State Park Rock Quarry. I had been to the rock quarry once with a few friends and knew the boy scout in Tyler would love hiking through the trails and diving off small cliffs into the deep waters below, so after a quick trip to Target for inflatable tubes, we got in the car and made our way to Durham.

Here's the thing about traveling with Tyler. I can't live without my GPS, he likes to write directions from Mapquest on arbitrary scraps of paper. (He and the GPS don't exactly get along) I decided to humor him and look up the directions on Mapquest and, as suspected, we got lost. Thankfully, we have this habit of getting lost and then somehow stumbling on the right road, as we did with the rock quarry trail.

We parked and hiked the 15-minute trail to the quarry with floats in hand, though we were warned by a few fellow hikers that the water was freezing cold. The quarry has a trail that circles it, and as we looked into the water while walking around we could see huge fish swimming near the edge. (I immediately became less enthusiastic about swimming) We found a spot to set out our towels and climbed down to the edge to test the water. The friendly hikers were right--it was cold! We decided to read and lay out in the sun instead while we watched a few daring teenagers plunge into the water, all of them shouting obscenities as soon as they hit the surface.

As the sun began to set, we hiked back and spent the rest of the evening experiencing Chapel Hill at its fullest--eating (or more importantly, people watching) on Franklin, watching Black Swan in the Varsity Theatre (at $4 a ticket, it's hard not to pay this historical landmark a visit) and walking from bar to bar until closing.

This week while babysitting, I was informed that Aadit's spring break started on Friday. Although I love spending time with him each afternoon, we both get a little disappointed that we have to spend the entire time doing homework or running back and forth from taekwando practice. On Thursday afternoon, however, he finally didn't have work to do and I decided to show him around UNC's campus. I gave him the tour of my dorm, explaining how the flex pass worked to get into the building and he was amazed at the fact that we all share the same kitchen. I took him through the Pit, the center of campus, and to Wilson Library so he could see the amazing Rare Books room. Lastly, I showed him my brother's favorite place on campus--The Forest Theater. It's an outdoor theater made of stone and Christopher used to love to run down the stairs and stand on the stage at the bottom. Aadit had a blast exploring the theater too. We went back to his house and spent the rest of the afternoon talking about his favorite subject--the US Presidents.

Angela's prom is next weekend and this is the first time I've been able to come home to see her leave! Be sure to look for a post of her day! (And keep cheering on the Heels in the Elite Eight!)

Go Tarheels,
Nicole

Commencement Information Day, Luck of the Irish and a Holi Moli Mess

I can't believe I actually bought my cap and gown.

For so long, graduation has been a distant idea, one of those dreams that never seem to get closer but instead is simply a bullet point on a "one day" list. Finally holding the Carolina blue and white tassel in my hand and watching the silver "2011" pendant shine in the light, however, was a blatant reminder that in about a month and a half, I will officially be a college alumni (well, for my undergraduate career anyway).

As I approached the table to purchase my cap and gown, the man first asked my height. I confidently told him 5'3" and continued looking down the line at the various announcement cards, picture frames, and ornaments that decorated the booth. Then he said, "Is that with heels? What shoes will you be wearing for graduation?" He asked this in a tone that suggested that this was a perfectly normal question, as if I should have already planned this well in advance. "If you purchase a gown too short," he continued, "it will look really strange." Panic mode set in as I tried to mentally run through my shoe collection, wondering if they were supposed to be heels or wedges, nude or white, closed or open-toed, short or tall heel height. "I mean, they probably won't be over two inches, I wouldn't think, but I'm really not sure. I haven't gotten that far," I stammered. He reached under the table and pulled out a box containing the cap and gown--a one-size package fitted for those measuring 5'3" to 5'7". (Why, if the gowns came in size ranges, he made such an ordeal over my specific height I'm not sure, but I continued down the line anyway.) The next man I encountered said, "Would you like a stole of gratitude?" I tried to hide my blank expression as I replied, "Um, a what?" He sighed and said, "A stole of gratitude," holding up an example which I immediately recognized from high school.

"Oh, right. Aren't those required?" I asked.

"Not everyone chooses to purchase one."

"But am I going to look like the cheapo when I walk across the stage if I don't get one?"

He smiled and shrugged.

"Alright fine," I surrendered. "I'll take one of those too."

Next were the tassels. (Who knew purchasing graduation gear was so intense?) The tassel that comes with the cap and gown only have the UNC seal on it instead of the graduation year. The man kindly informed me that in order to have a tassel with the year on it, I must purchase it separately. For an additional $12. I motioned for him to give me one of those as well. $95 later, I was officially prepared for graduation, stole of gratitude and all. On my way out of the room, two other booths tried to sell me a lifetime membership to the GAA and Ram's Club. They must have seen my expression, however, after spending what seemed like a fortune to a college student on the cap and gown and they quickly backed off.

Since sophomore year, I walk the same brick path to get from my dorm to campus en route to class every day, and every day I pass a friendly older man that drives the handicapped van for students who need assistance getting to class. He patiently waits outside the van to receive a call to pick up a student from their dorm or classroom and transport them to their next destination, and we have a tradition of waving and saying good morning. On nice days when I'm finished with class, I'll stop and talk to him, mostly about the weather and school. As I passed him on St. Patrick's Day, he bent down, searched the patch of grass in front of him, and plucked a four leaf clover, handing it to me and wishing me luck. It's such a nice feeling to see a friendly face each morning.

Franklin Street was packed with students that night, and the new Irish pub that opened last year was impossible to get near. A group of friends and I settled on R&R Grill for our St. Patrick's Day festivities, a new bar in place of Goldie's that has a nice outdoor patio and bar area. They dyed the beer green for the night and that was my drink of choice, as I continuously told the bartender how "cute" the beer was.

Starting two years ago, one of the Hindu organizations on campus began an event called Holi Moli celebrating the spring religious festival recognized by Hindus primarily in India, Nepal and Sri Lanka, but also in other parts of the world where practicing Hindus reside. Holi is traditionally celebrated by people throwing colored dye and water at one another, and over 600 students congregated in Polk Place today to do just that. Unfortunately, those participants needed to shower afterwards, and I got a call from my boss stating that our bathroom was in "unacceptable condition" after a few of my residents washed the dye off their clothes, hair and skin, and that if it wasn't cleaned by tomorrow morning the entire floor will be charged. After relaying that information in an email to the hall, I heard two girls outside my door beginning to clean the bathroom. Knowing it was more than just two that caused the mess, I offered to help. None of us had adequate bathroom cleaning supplies, so we originally started with cups of water and paper towels, scrubbing dye off the floors and walls. Then, we realized the housekeeping closet had been left open. A photoshoot with cleaning supplies promptly followed.

Eventually, the bathroom was once again (mostly) clean.

Keep watching and cheering on the Heels in the NCAA tournament!

Go Heels,
Nicole

27 Dresses (Or More Like Three...), Domestic Abilities and the Ducks Unlimited Banquet

"Whoever said money can't buy happiness simply didn't know where to go shopping." --Bo Derek

For some (aka Tyler), prom dress shopping may seem like the world's worst punishment for a crime they didn't commit. For others (aka me) it is like Christmas in March. So when my little sister called and asked if I would be home to go shopping in Virginia for her senior prom dress, I gladly jumped at the opportunity. And forced Tyler to come along. I could barely sit through the car ride there, anxiously holding my camera in my lap, ready to take pictures of Angela in every dress she tried on so we could go back and compare which ones we liked best. (I was alone in this superfluous excitement, however, because though I was talking a hundred miles an hour about dress styles and colors, Angela fell asleep within the first few minutes of the ride.) The dress shop we finally settled on wouldn't allow pictures to be taken and trust me, they were beyond strict with this particular rule. I found a spot right outside the dressing room with my camera in hand, ready for her to open the door, revealing layers of fabric and embellishments. I got one picture before feeling like a deflated balloon when the saleswoman told me (in a very rude tone, I might add) that "no cameras are allowed in the store!" I wasn't about to give up that easy. I snuck inside the dressing room, barely the size of a half-bathroom, pretending to be an integral part of fastening the back of the dress before she could come out. I was able to get the rest of my pictures in there. The first dress Angela tried on (and the only one of which I was able to secretly snap a picture) was a beautiful red dress that we all were surprised to like as much as we did. The hanger didn't do it justice.

She went back into the dressing room to try on a second dress, the definition of a princess dress. The sequins and beading were in the shape of stars, there were layers of pink tulle, and the back laced up like a shoe. As soon as Angela put it on, she knew it was her dress, as did the onlooking spectators outside the dressing room. Without a doubt.

Just for the sake of trying on more than two dresses, and because I wasn't ready for the shopping experience to end, she tried on a third dress, knowing the previous one was still the frontrunner. The third dress was a pretty blue fitted dress, though the fit was sort of weird, and we knew it would be a waste of time to keep trying on more. When we asked the price of the dress (coincidentally it didn't have a price tag--always a bad sign), it was entirely too expensive. Thanks to Mom's haggling skills, though, we were able to get the perfect dress at the perfect price and we walked out of the store elated.

I wanted to work through Spring break, so I was given a ton of hours at the independent pharmacy for which I have worked since I was 14 years old. I had Monday off, but Tyler was scheduled to work (he's a pharmacist at the same pharmacy), so I decided to try my hand at some domestic skills around the new house he purchased. I told him I'd do some cleaning while he was at work, and he gladly accepted the offer. The man who had previously owned the house left the remnants of a hammock swing that had once been affixed on the front porch. Tyler and I had been talking for awhile about wanting to reinstall it but never got around to actually completing the task, so I had the brilliant idea of surprising him when he got home from work by having the swing up and running. What I didn't realize was this:

1) A hammock swing is heavier than it looks when attempting to carry it up a flight of stairs.

2) Rusted screws are impossible to pry loose.

3) Attempting to assemble a swing without looking at a picture of it first is a bad idea.

4) Dad can do anything.

To assemble this monstrosity, you had to unscrew rusted bolts from either side, slide the hammock part onto the wood (so that it doesn't fall through the middle as soon as weight is applied), and screw the bolts back on. Well, all the bolts had been weathered by years of salt air and moisture, and all of my strength couldn't disassemble those bolts. They didn't even budge. After realizing this task was way over my head, I called the one person I know can fix anything in the world--my dad. He told me to meet him at Ace Hardware, where we'd purchase new nuts, washers, hooks, etc. and asked me to bring one of the nut/washer combos so he'd know what size to get. What I didn't tell him was that I had been unsuccessful in ALL of my attempts to unscrew them, so I did what any logical person would do next. I carried that swing back down the steps and loaded it into the Suburban, chains and all. (You should've seen Dad's face when he asked where the bolt was, expecting me to hand him a small screw.) A few hours later, Tyler's front porch had a beautiful hammock swing for him to enjoy through the Spring and Summer.

I spent a while testing it out, then went inside to clean. Wanting to tackle the wooden kitchen floors first, I looked under the sink for cleaning wipes to go on the bottom of his Swiffer. I found a spray bottle of Orange Glow wood cleaner and decided to use that instead. I tend to use a liberal amount of cleaner, especially because I wanted his house to smell really clean when he walked in, so I nearly dumped the entire bottle all over the floor. Noticing it was creating a slick layer of cleaner on the surface of the wood, I nervously tried to spread it out, to no avail. By the time I had finished, the floor was more like an ice skating rink than a kitchen surface and I prayed that he wouldn't have to go in the kitchen for about the next week until it finally wore off. That prayer didn't get answered. I wasn't at the house when he got home from work, but he said he noticed a layer of what looked like dew congealing on the floor. He walked over to get a closer look, in his socks, and found out exactly how well Orange Glow wood polish works. Later that night, I came over and ecstatically hurried him out to the porch to try out the swing for the first time. As soon as we sat down, we heard an ominous creaking coming from above, and before we had time to escape, then entire swing had dismantled from the ceiling and fallen on the floor. Here is what I learned:

1) Replace ALL rusted hooks on an old hammock swing.

2) Use Orange Glow sparingly.

3) If you mess up while cleaning, there's a good chance you won't get asked to clean again. This blonde is smarter than she looks...

Last night was the 2011 Ducks Unlimited Banquet at Duck Woods Country Club and, as payment for our tickets, Tyler and I worked the Hi/Low card game until the live auction and raffle at the end of the night. Though the reining champ of last year's Hi/Low game purchased over 50 rounds (a total dollar amount that would make the average non-gambling person sick), he was still defeated by a man who had bought only 6 rounds. (Dad came in as a close second-place!) I hadn't been to an auction since I was about 8 years old and I was amazed at the entire process. The auctioneer was hilarious and everyone had a great time, including "Super Dad," a nickname we gave to the guy who spent an ungodly amount on a child's bike and camouflage guitar.

When it came time for the raffle, I knew my chances were slim--I am entirely too unlucky in raffles. Surprisingly, though, I won a "spa day" for Antoinne (Tyler's Camry) from Colony Tire, a Ducks Unlimited quilt, and multiple jewelry sets. The rest of the family (except Tyler, a fact I still find humorous) faired just as well.

Tomorrow, it will be time to head back to Chapel Hill for less than two months until graduation and me and Tyler's vacation to CANCUN, MEXICO! It's a strange feeling to be in love with two places at the same time, not knowing whether it's the beach or Chapel Hill I miss more.

Until next time,

Nicole

A Carolina Victory

"Hark the sound of Tarheel voices, ringing clear and true. Singing Carolina praises, shouting NCU. Hail to the brightest star of all, clear it's radiant shine. Carolina--priceless gem. Receive all praises thine. I'm a Tarheel born, I'm a Tarheel bred and when I die I'm a Tarheel dead. So it's rah-rah, Carolina-lina. Rah-rah, Carolina-lina. Rah-rah, Carolina-lina. GO TO HELL DUKE!"

This was the song resounding throughout all of Chapel Hill on Saturday night, signifying Carolina's victory over Duke. It was, in fact, more than just a victory. It was a true execution of Coach K and his Blue Devils.

The day began with a Tarheel baseball game against the Stony Brook Seawolves. It was a beautiful day outside and I wanted to work on a paper before leaving for Spring break, so I took my schoolwork down to Boshamer Stadium, propped my feet up on the seat in front of me and enjoyed the smell of popcorn, the crunch of peanut shells under my shoes and the tink of a baseball against the aluminum bat, an immediate reminder of a new season's upcoming arrival.

UNC easily took a quick lead and the score only continued to climb as the game continued. I was sitting behind a group of guys who called themselves the "strikeout crew," a name that caught on with fellow Tarheels sitting around us,

and each time the pitcher struck out a Seawolf batter, they would affix a laminated sign with a "K" on it to the railing of the stadium with duct tape. As irritated as the Seawolf fans around us became, we enjoyed watching the strikeouts pile up. I had to leave at the top of the fifth inning, but as I walked out of the stadium, the Tarheels had

already scored 12 runs with the Seawolves unable to score. The final score, I later found out, was 18-4.

The UNC basketball ticket lottery system is set up in a phase system, with students receiving either a Phase One, Two, Three, Four or Five ticket for the Duke game. Phase One is let in two and a half hours prior to the start of the game, Phase Two is let in two hours before, Phase Three an hour and a half before, Phase Four an hour before, and Phase Five a half an hour before. Therefore, to ensure the best seat possible, students tend to line up really early for their phase time. My friend, Katie, and I went during Phase Four and got there at about 5:30 as the following line started piling up behind us:

I packed snacks, drinks, and magazines in my bag to keep us entertained while we waited, but people-watching took up plenty of our time. Finally we got to where we could see the entrance to the stadium and the energy around us began to mount. Students started chanting, one side of the line yelling an energetic "TAR!" and another responding with an enthusiastic "HEELS!" Others shouted "WHOSE HOUSE?" while the rest answered "HEEL'S HOUSE!" Some started the Carolina fight song and some began jumping up and down, filled with the inescapable anticipation the next three hours would surely bring. As soon as they moved the rope keeping those with a Phase Four ticket in holding until exactly 7:00, it was a free-for-all. Students shoved, ran, and pushed their way past others to find the closest seats possible. Katie and I got swept up in the madness and ran inside, bolting for section 207 and scanning the aisles for available student seats. We found seats in the first row of student seats with a great view of the stadium.
The stadium was the loudest I had ever heard it and the energy was contagious. Katie and I were nervous and could barely contain our excitement, though we didn't try very hard. Being in a stadium so fully packed with Carolina fans was an incredible feeling and it was an amazing example of the "Tarheel family" that so many students and alumni often describe. All around us were fans wanting the same thing--to watch the Tarheels beat our biggest rivals. It was impossible not to be excited as we got settled into our seats.

As the teams were warming up, the Carolina student section was making it nearly impossible for the Duke players to concentrate. Duke's team were running a warm-up drill in which they ran sprints from the goal to the center court line and back again. When the players ran from the goal to center court, the student section would erupt in applause and loud cheers. When they ran from center court back to the goal (which was conveniently located right above the student section), the students would boo. This went back and forth for the entirety of Duke's warm up.

Below are pictures from the game and students rushing the court after we won, followed by the team cutting the net and Roy William's thank-you speech after the game.

After the game was over, the seniors had been recognized, the alma mater had been sung and the court had finally cleared from the students who rushed the floor, it was time to sprint to Franklin Street where the celebration would inevitably continue. On the way to there, CBS Sports Network was filming an on-location post-game review with Jerry Stackhouse (a UNC basketball alum), so we stopped to watch the broadcast.

When looking through the pictures I had taken that night, I almost deleted this one that I had taken on the way to Franklin. On second thought though, it ended up being one of my favorite pictures of the night because it really depicts the craziness that ensued after winning the game.

The run through campus was enhanced by the melody of the alma mater continuously playing from the Bell Tower. Once on Franklin Street, people had already flooded the street and sporadic bonfires were sprouting up all along the road. It is tradition in Chapel Hill to jump over said bonfires after a big win (particularly in basketball season), so overly-enthusiastic fans were holding hands and leaping over bonfire after bonfire. There were people in every direction, crowded onto the streets chanting and cheering, sitting on each other's shoulders, taking pictures and finding friends. Bonfires were started from anything they could find--shirts, bookbags, papers, anything that would ignite.

The Chapel Hill police and fire department were quickly on the scene, ushering wild students off the streets and onto the sidewalks. When their tactics were obviously not working, they brought a water truck to hose off the streets (and students that were lagging behind) to prevent any further fires.

Unfortunately, even this didn't work. We were back on the street as soon as they passed by.

Duke game madness is something that is almost impossible to put into words or even pictures. Pictures don't come close to describing the overwhelming level of energy, passion and enthusiasm. I'll never watch the the UNC vs. Duke game the same way again!

Always a Tarheel,

Nicole