Pretty much the paparazzi

Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine starts dating a guy and then finds out that he has two friends, one who is a little bald guy and one who is a tall lanky weird-o who only goes by his last name? She called it Bizzaro world because they were just like Jerry, George and Kramer, except exactly opposite.

They sat around reading and talking about really deep important issues.

Well, guess what.



The other day the ear doctor and I were at the grocery store and WENT TO BIZZARO world!

We walking around the produce department minding our own business when we noticed another couple. Observe:





I don't know of you can tell or not, but the girl has long red hair and the guy is brunette with the EXACT same facial hair as the ear doctor.

CREEPY!


We were so weirded out that we followed them around the grocery store. I mean, how often do you find your doppelganger in real life?!?!?!?




Although, now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't call them the creepy ones since I was the one who whipped out my phone and took a random picture of strangers....

Lessons from Denise

I wish I were good at writing thank you notes. Growing up my mother tried her very hardest to teach her daughters that it wasn't an option NOT to write grandma a thank you note for a birthday gift. But, somehow this just didn't stick with me.

My sister, on the other hand, is GREAT at this.

And it isn't only gifts that I know I should write thank you notes for. We were invited to a REALLY fun murder mystery dinner party last weekend and as the door closed behind me I thought, wow, that was awesome. I really need to send them a thank you note. Must do it as soon as I get home.

And yet?

I haven't even torn the plastic wrapping off the box of stationary my mom got me for Christmas.

I'm bad at this and it eats me up inside.



I mean, I love expressing my gratitude to people for doing such nice things. I mean, seriously, if I were any good at writing thank you notes at all I would be writing about a million for all the offers of help and support that have been generously pouring in my direction. I am totally blown away by all the people out there who don't know me at all, but are willing to donate to this birthmom buds project.

You people are just so good to trust a total stranger with your good faith donations.

I'm a little overwhelmed and humbled by all the goodness this one simple request has elicited. And it's been a lot. The kind of goodness that reminds me that the majority of people out there in the world ARE kind. They DO want to help.

So, I guess what I'm saying is...well...THANKS!






(Hey, mom, can I substitute handwritten thankyou notes for an internet shout-out? No? I thought not)

Just trying to rely on the kindness of strangers

Hey all,

So I know I've mentioned before that I volunteer to lead/teach a group of 7 girls at my church, right? My goal has been to provide interesting experiences for these girls so they know who they are and they great good they can do in their community if they think of others and offer a helping hand.

Well, recently I became aware of an organization called BirthmomBuds. They are focused on supporting women who choose to place their babies with families through adoption. I was fascinated to learn that studies have shown that most birthmoms have a serious bout of depression about 4-6 weeks after placing their little baby.

I had no idea! I'd never even thought of the after effects a birthmom must go through after making such a selfless decision to offer someone else the chance to have a family! It must be so hard!

Well, the ladies who started BirthmomBuds decided that they'd send each Birthmom they could a care package after they placed their little one. What a great idea! They run their organization on donations, so I thought it'd be a great activity involve my girls. We've decided that each of them will make a care package for these birthmoms. That means we have to come up 7 of each of the following items:

A picture frame (in which to keep a special picture of her birth child)
A photo album (to hold the special photos of her birth child)
Candles and bath gels (to help her relax)
Small notepads
Candy/nic nacs

The catch is that we don't really have a whole lot of funds to dedicate to this small project. So, here is your chance to help us. I know times are tough, but next time you're at the grocery store, could you throw in 7 packs of gum and mail them to me? Or maybe you have 7 cool pens laying around your house...could you box them up and slap my address on the outside?

If you are so inclined, leave me a comment with what you'd like to donate and a way to get in touch with you.

Thanks so much for considering it....bloggers are the most awesome of people!

Snipped

I remember when I first realized that my mom was probably not to be trusted.

She always seemed to have the answers to everything. Any question I asked was promptly answered and I always figured that since she was my mom, and pretty much the center of my truth universe whatever she said was fact. It was reality; the way things were.

Every morning of elementary school my sister and I would call down to her from our bedrooms, "Mom, what's the weather like today." She'd answer and pretty much always be right on.

Except one day she wasn't.

As I trudged home in the pouring rain wearing a sundress I started putting two and two together. I started to realize that MY MOM WAS MAKING STUFF UP!?!?!?



(insert the sound of my little brain exploding)


If she didn't technically know the answer to a question she'd just tell me her best guess. And sometimes that guess was going to be a little off. I couldn't just give her my agency and let her run with it.

Which is the lesson, I'm sure that our little puppy Roscoe is learning this very second.

Because, you see, this morning we skipped his breakfast, gave him a million nervous hugs, and drove him up to the vet for his surgery. The big one. His loss-of-manhood surgery.

Up to this point he's been able to trust us. We've never led him astray, never tricked him into doing something he wouldn't want to do himself. And now? We've lead him to the lair of the doctor who will remove any chance he has to start a family, to understand the circle of life, to see his own little pups grow into adulthood.

And it kind of pains me to know that somewhere in the back of his mind he might question my love for him. He may doubt my motives. He may wonder if what I'm telling him is the truth. That's a tough nugget to swallow.

But my mom has always told me that getting your pets neutered is the responsible and good thing to do. So I did it.

At least I know that Bob Barker would be proud.

Yesterday I got a particularly awesome email from a friend I haven't heard from in a long time. She asked me if there was any big news with our little family.

For a second I couldn't really think of anything.

For some reason this question always trips me up. Off to top of my head my life seems routine, the same, a bit bland. I mean, if there were some big news woudln't it leap out of the dusty corners of my brain and present itself immediatly upon my request?

But then I realized that yes, I do actaully have some pretty great news.

My parents live in Eastern Washington where this has been the view of their house for the past 2 months:

Yuck!

In an effort to claw their way out of the snow cave and shake off their gray sky induced mole-like living they decided to run away to the sun. And, as luck would have it, they want to take the ear doctor and I to run along with them.

In 3 weeks we'll be heading down to Florida!!!!!!!!!!! Hooray for a spontaneous vacation!!!!!!! Yesterday I got a little excited and spent 5 mintues making this little guy:

That way I can count down to my trip! I made it out of pink post-it notes and drew little hearts on the links. I thought that way if someone came into my office they might just think I'm counting down the days until Valentines instead of what I'm actaully doing.

For some reason it just doesn't seem like the most professional thing to be literally ripping away links on a chain that symbolically represents my upcoming cubical liberation.

I probably deserve it

The most heinous thing someone can do to your car when they borrow it, aside from total the thing, is to change the pre-set stations on your radio.

I know, I know, probably most of you probably just said to yourself, "huh? the radio? does anyone still listen to that ole thing?"

Yes....I do.

And I still really like it because where else are you going to be just driving down the road and be surprised to hear a little No Diggity, No Doubt pumping from your killer (factory standard) system? Nowhere.

Which is exactly why I have the Denver R&B/rap station on my pre-sets. I never want to miss out on the chance to hear the tunes I used to awkwardly jump dance to at middle school dances. I can't get enough of the nostalgia. The ear doctor, on the other hand, could do without.

For some reason he accuses me of blatantly blaring really annoying (to him) hip hop music and singing all of the lyrics while looking him in the eye just waiting for him to cringe and get annoyed. He thinks my crooning, "Strictly biz, she don't play around cover much ground, got game by the pound" while grinning and staring in his direction is in some way my attempt to INTENTIONALLY bug him?!?!? What kind of wife would I be if I did that?

I mean, seriously, the following rhymes just really speak to my soul and typify the upper middle class Caucasian, privileged childhood I experienced: "She got tricks in the stash, stacking up the cash, fast when it comes to the gas"

I liked magic shows, and getting an allowance and I couldn't wait to drive the 1984 red ford pick-up that topped at 55 mph when I turned 16. Is it my fault that they just resonate with me?

Apparently it is, because the ear doctor H-A-T-E-D me adding my smooth free-stylin to the mix. His uber-mature solution?

He changed my pre-set station to the Mexican station.


Aye, Aye, Aye!









We out, we out

Friends for life

Yesterday we had a new couple over to our house for dinner. They just moved here from Arizona. I remembered how tough it was to move here after graduating from school...new streets to get lost on, a new grocery store where I can't find the chipotle chiles. It was tough.

So, I always like to invite new people over.


It was 62 degrees and sunny here in Colorado, so, of course, we HAD to grill out. The ear doctor decided to make this AMAZING burgers (do yourself a favor and print out this recipe), while I made sweet potato fries (I finally found a recipe for getting them really crispy!) and this tangy salad (courtesy of my ole pal Sarah....we added matchsticks of jicima and it was awesome). I was actually pretty proud of how well everything turned out.

Then, I pulled out the orange chiffon cake with chocolate glaze. As the husband half of our guests took a bite he actually giggle in delight.

HE GIGGLED! My baking made a grown man GIGGLE with JOY!


Turns out that the day before our guests had been talking with someone else that we barely know and our guests were informed to expect a real treat because (and I quote), "Katie is a really great cook." He giggled because the food had lived up to the hype.

SWOON!


I'm pretty sure my face went all red with mixed happiness and embarrassment. For me, it really doesn't get much better than that.

Anyone care to guess how these two images relate to each other?







Give up?



ME!





Last night I found myself switching back and forth between VH1's countdown of the top 100 hip hop songs of all time and Disney's 1977 cartoon The Rescuers. It's true. I sat there on the floor of my apartment with my little doggie on my lap and alternated between the racial struggle captured by rap in the late 80's/early 90's and the nail-biting suspense of whether or not Bianca and Bernard would be able to help save Penny.


And I fully appreciated the likelihood of someone else in America doing the very same thing was incredibly remote.


And it made me feel unique and special....and only a little weird.

Caring or creepy?

I just read a job description that kind of baffled me. Two of the requirements were:

"fantastic communicator"

and

"charismatic"


How am I supposed to know if I'm either of these things, since both are perceptions of someone outside myself? Or are these the types of traits that you just know it when you got it?

If so, then I'm pretty sure I don't.



I mean, is a "fantastic communicator" the kind of person who makes random comments to strangers in the grocery checkout lane? Is she the kind of nosy person who sees someone with a flat of Gatorade, a flat of vitamin water and a case of capri sun and says, "Looks like someone is getting their hydration on!"

Or notices the pint of pumpkin pie ice cream in another basket, turns to the basket's owner and says, "Oh, have you tried that yet? Is it good?"

Or cannot stop herself from playing peek-a-boo with every child strapped into a metal buggy?


Is a "charismatic" person obsessed with making the lady at the DMV smile and laugh at her jokes? Does that person strive to be their waiter's favorite customer all night? Does she enthusiastically greet an unknown 15 year old walking to his bus stop at 7 in the morning and really expect to get a warm reception?


Because, if so, then maybe I should really consider applying for the job.

Dreamin

My latest obsession? Entering my name into the HGTV dream home giveaway. I want to win this thing so badly that I actually considered not writing about it here in the attempt to hide the contest from anyone out there who doesn't know about it. Less other people entering means that my odds are better. Does that mean I'm a bad person?

Granted, I am the girl who pushed her best friend into a row of corn in the selfish attempt to avoid being killed by the 25 year old high school drop-out hired by the haunted corn maze to terrify people by running a chainsaw.

But, really, the house they're giving away this year is so dreamy and perfect.

The ear doctor and I have already decided what we are going to do with it WHEN we win on March 15th. For the next little while, until the ear doctor is fully done with school we will rent it out to special people who want to tour wine country, like a time share. We'll fly out there once a month to check on our beauty and eat at French Laundry.

Then, when he graduates, we'll move out there and turn it into a B&B. The ear doctor will be the most prominent and awesome audiologist around and I'll wake up every morning to work in my garden and prepare fabulous locally inspired meals for the awesomely nice people who come to stay with us.

See, that's not the most selfish vision in the world, right?

(please don't hold it against me if I don't provide a link to the contest....I'm not a FULLY generous person yet)

Any Joseph's out there?

The other night I dreamt that the Obamas put on a Christmas TV special.

Michelle and the girls dressed up in beautiful gowns and did a musical singing and dancing number, after which the president elect delivered a special message about the true meaning of Christmas. As he sat in a big red velvet chair, adorned in a cardigan and warmed by the crackle of a real fire in the fireplace he extolled in Bing Crosby-esque style what it means to be free, kind and giving during the Christmas season.


Then I woke up and realized that I was born in the wrong era...


Anyone care to interpret?

Clip Clip

Last night we went to Smashburger for dinner. I know, REALLY healthy, right? Well as I sat there in our greasy booth waiting for my ground beef fix I noticed that every single song that they played came out during my junior or senior year of high school. The ear doctor shuddered in horror as I proudly demonstrated my uncanny ability to remember each and every single lyric of the Spice Girl's 1997 classic Say You'll Be There. Suddenly I was awash in memories.

In high school I had a best friend. The kind of best friend that they show in movies. We did everything together and I just loved being around her. Since then, time and distance have played their dirty tricks and we are no longer as close as we once were. (But I bet if we were in the same room and the rap from Teen Witch started playing we'd both be able to shut it down.)

One time when we were hanging out in her bedroom, playing with her little dogs she said to me, "You're not really a dog person are you? You're more of a fish-as-a-pet kind of person."

Oh the horror this struck in my little 16 year old heart! In (typical) over dramatic, self centered, immature Katie world this meant that she thought I was a cold hearted, aquatic loving FREAK.

In reality, her off-handed and unintentional comment isn't even an insult as fish are really beautiful, but for some reason it stuck with me. I'm sure she doesn't even remember saying it.

Weird how some little comment can stay with you for so long, huh?

We had to rush through our burgers last night because the ear doctor had basketball practice. He had to make sure he got home in time to get ready for practice. I was a little confused as routine for getting ready for physical activity basically consists of finding an old BYU t-shirt and a rubber band. Turns out there is one specific activity in which he MUST engage before playing basketball.

8 years ago he was playing a pick-up game of hoops with a bunch of guys. After one particular encounter some dude turned back to him and yelled (in front of the entire gym of people), "Jeez dude, CLIP YOUR NAILS!" Ever since he has RITUALLY clipped his nails almost down to bloody stubs before he plays.

Anybody else have weird things like this? Surely we can't be the only ones?








He made me promise to tell you that he ALWAYS has short nails...I did not marry this guy:

A little blue

Today was one of my very favorite co-worker's last day, and I'm so bummed about it that I can hardly keep my head together.

I personally think that the people you work with can really make or break a job. They're like the icing on a cake...the cake underneath might be fantastic but you're not really going to go back for seconds if it's covered in that shortening based white fluff, right?

Right.

In high school I worked at a local golf course, and I loved the job. I could be outside all day, my boss pretty much left me alone and the work was so easy a trained monkey could have done it. I was basically free to enjoy the beauty of the course and listen to my discman. The only downer was the all my co-workers were pretty arrogant guys who thought it was beneath them to pick the used banana peels out of the golf cart cup holders. The job was rad, but the co-workers? Lame.

So it really stinks when someone that I like so much leaves. She was pure, rich, velvety chocolate ganache whose personality and skills perfectly complimented the sweetness of this job...and I'm going to miss her terribly.

Dear person who made sausage in the kitchen at work this morning,

Thanks SO much for making the entire break room smell like Jimmy Dean's dream. It was so awesome to return to work after a 2 day fight with food poisoning and inhale the overpoweringly pungent aroma of prepackaged sausage. I can't really think of anything more lovely!

Please don't mistake my sudden pallor and hand covering my mouth to avoid vomiting the dry toast I attempted to eat this morning as a sign that anything you did was in any way unwelcome. Seriously, that is how I greet all wonderful scents in my life.

Love, Katie

Tis the season

For about 5 years in a row I found myself worshipping at the foot of the ceramic throne on Christmas eve. Between eating pounds of candy and the excruciating anticipation of Santa's arrival I worked myself up to a frenzy than my poor little tummy could not contain. So, instead of being gently tucked into my bed and gracefully falling asleep I would pass out in the bathroom and be carried to bed. A lovely image for you all on this Monday morning, I'm sure.

As a result, being sick over Christmas has garnered the status of a yearly tradition. However, this year it wasn't me who was sick.

As soon as we got to Utah the ear doctor started feeling horrible. After writhing in pain for two days, we bundled him up and made our yearly trip to the emergency room. Yes, we were the out of towners spending December 23rd in a "room" corded off by a shower curtain. Owning to the fact that everyone and their mother decided that the year was running out and deductibles had already been paid, the hospital was a mad house. After waiting for 3 hours the nurse shot my poor suffering husband with pain medicine in the rump and sent us away with a prescription for pain meds.

So, if you happened to be wandering around the Riteaide by Macey's in Provo at 2 am on December 24th you probably saw my haggard, stressed out body on autopilot waiting 45 minutes for a pharmacist to count out 30 pills for my husband.

Once we had the requisite ER trip taken care of we were at liberty to experience the rest of my family's traditions. We ate, shopped, played the Wii and went to movies. Here's a little tip: Don't go see Marley and Me if you just got a puppy. Just a bad, bad idea. That is, unless you like to have a soul-shaking emotional experience in public. Then, by all means go for it.

Because it really wouldn't be Christmas without some kind of embarrassing bodily mishap.