A moment of silence

My doughnut bringing co-worker moved to another branch of the company on Monday. I didn't realize what that meant.

This morning there were no chocolate covered circles of joy.

How am I going to get through this day?!?!?!

Barking Dogs

I've had the same pair of shoes for almost 3 years now and they still hurt my feet. I don't know why I keep them. I'm like that stupid mouse that can't figure out to stop eating the cheese that shocks the be-jeezus out of him every time he reaches for it. Call me a classical conditioning drop-out.

It's just that I love them. They looks so much different from all of my other shoes. They are mesh and elastic and remind me of black and purple aqua socks. Whenever I want to look truly Coloradidian I reach for them and my down vest in one motion.

I think the problem is that I will wear them one day, limping all the while and after that day shove them to the back of the shoe heap. There they will linger, allowing my memory of their vindictive pain-producing ability to fade. One day 6 months later I'll find them down there and think, "my, those are cute shoes. Surly they only hurt me the last time because I haven't fully broken them in. Don't they look like they will just slip on and feel so good on my feet?"

But, fool that I am, I have fallen for their looks. A moth to a flame. If my feet could talk I'm sure they would squeal out a frantic warning to me as I draw them into their black mesh and velcro prisons.

I walk off to school thinking, my these shoes are glorious. The are warm and soft, yet breathable and light. All through my morning I will almost laugh at my own silliness at not wearing them every day of my life.

Then, the afternoon sets in.

All I can say is, my poor, poor achilles tendon.

The once close and comforting fit has become a raw and pulsating legion on my right heel. The secure closure of the velcro pinches in the wrong place and causes my left pinky toe to fall asleep. As I hobble home from work I am filled with disgust. Not really at my shoes, but at myself for once again believing that I could find comfort in their embrace. It is my fault. I am the fool.

These stupid shoes are being pitched into the darkest corners of my closet and THIS time I will remember.

I WILL.

It's all over

See, I told you fall doesn't last long here.

Today is supposed to be the first day of snow here in the Denver metro area and I'm not excited. Winter and I have an interesting past. There is so much game playing in our relationship that most of the time I have no idea what is going on.

Last year he was the typical "cool guy." The one who never seemed really invested in the relationship. The guy who sat around and waited for me to call. The guy who gave little hints of affection...a frosted windshield, a few slowly falling flakes. Just enough to pique my interest without becoming committed. He waited and waited and waited. He even let Starbucks introduce the gingerbread flavored drinks before he was willing to put his full energy into the relationship. By the time he really came around I had been wearing my ski boots around the house for fun and the Christmas CDs had been in the stereo for a month!

This year he has pulled a role reversal. This time he's started too early. It's as though he's a date who droped the L-word casually over our third date dinner. I don't want him because he wants me too much. His cold and dripping presence is everywhere today. I can't get rid of his pervasive, water-logged demonstrations which are clearly needy, suffocating attempts to get my attention. It isn't like I want to treat him badly...he's a generally nice season and I don't want to be the mean girl who breaks his heart, but come on. Can't you take a hint when a girl doesn't want you around?

Why oh why can't this season and I get in phase with each other. It is so frustrating to be in a relationship where when I am up, he is down. When all I want to do is sit and be content he insists on being nowhere around.

I guess timing really is everything.

Fall

Fall in Colorado happens overnight.

One afternoon you'll be bathed in gloriously warm sunshine and wish you could take the afternoon off to go to the pool and the next morning you'll wake up to a frost covered windshield and bright yellow leaves crunching underfoot.

For about one week all the leaves will be the most intense eye-burning colors. Leaving the confines of the indoors and stepping out into the glaring sun is so breathtakingly beautiful that you involuntarily stop short, in awe of what you see.

The heavy, earthen scent of fall is so pervasive that for a moment you are transported back to the afternoon you spent raking leaves and jumping into the pile. You expect to open your door to the inviting smell of cinnamon and pumpkin pie. You wonder why there isn't more brown and orange in your closet.

All you want to do is take the day off to enjoy the unearthly majesty that is open to anyone for the taking who will step up and take it. No, not the unearthly majesty. The complete, quintessential earthly, terrestrial experience.

You want to grab it, hold on, soak every moment up into your being so that you can always experience a day like this. An hour like this. A moment.

You realize that in a month (that will trip by without being noticed) you will be locked into the cold, gray death-grip of winter. Then you will look back at Colorado fall and realize, with deep regret, that you spent those few weeks indoors. Took for granted the sun and the dry hem of your currently ice covered jeans. Never went in a corn maze or picked a pumpkin from a real patch. Never made that pumpkin pie.

And instead of those thoughts making you sad, you'll realize that fall will come again. Colorado will never let you down. And next time, you won't waste a minute.

I'm just too busy

This morning I was listening to the radio on my way to school. This is, as I am kind of ashamed to admit, pretty typical for me and sometimes the only was I get any sort of news in my day. (this is how I found out about 9/11)

Anyway, this morning the DJs were talking about some lady that one of his wife interacts with. I guess the DJ's wife needed this woman to help her out with something. According to them, it was a small task that wouldn't take long and involved packets. (This made me think it was either girl scout cookie time, or some kind of Sweet 'n Low debacle).

I guess the woman whose help was requested wrote the DJ's wife back and email that said she simply didn't have time because not only does she home school all 6 of her children, but she also volunteers at the old folks home and runs the boy scout pack for her son and chairs the popcorn sale committee for a couple of other packs. Also, she has to take care of her mother's failing health and feed the dogs and blah blah blah.

This kind of thing has recently become one of my pet peeves.

If the woman had too much on her plate, fine. Say that. But don't make yourself the martyr and show that you are just SOOOO much busier than everyone else around you.

People in my program do this too.

It drives me crazy when I'm working out a group project and someone in the group goes off about how busy and hard their life is that they absolutely will not compromise to be able to work with the group. They'll complain at length about how much homework and other commitments take up their time.

Know what I want to say to them? Something a little like this:

"Grow up. Look around. Every single other person in here has responsibilities too. Your time is no more important than anyone else's. You chose to sign up for everything you are committed to, so I don't want to hear that you can't meet because your dog at home needs to be fed and played with. Maybe you shouldn't have got a dog at 20 years old and thought that you could spend enough time with it. And if you compare the responsibilities you have to watch your dog to the responsibilities that the other guy in the group has for HIS CHILDREN one more time I might just go ballistic!"

Does anyone else feel my pain?

Oh what a day

Today is a glorious day for many reasons:

1. I am no longer surrounded by a green haze of the cold that would not die. I feel alert, awake, uncongested and alive!
   
2. The weather here is amazing. Today is the day that I want everyone in the whole world to take note of and realize that this, THIS, is why I love Colorado. Sunny, blue skies, 65 degrees, snow capped mountains in the distance, green, yellow and orange leaves brilliantly reflecting the light from the warm and penetrating sun.
3. I had leftover spinach tortelinni and chicken sausage for dinner and Colorado has been cleared as an ecoli-free state! Wonderful because I don't think I could have gone much longer without a delicious spinach salad.
4. I found out that one of my bff's (Kathy) made a blog to show off her beautiful little daughter Olivia.
5. I actually felt excited about my work-out this afternoon when I was setting aside my gym clothes this morning. This is a first for me as I ABHOR exercising.
6. After looking over my spreadsheet for this last month I realize that I STUCK TO MY BUDGET that I had imposed for the month of September. HOORAY FOR SELF CONTROL!
7. I'm leaving Friday night to go home and visit my parents. My pregnant little sister and her husband and my brother his wife and kids are all going to. IT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME! I don't think we've all been together since last thanksgiving which is WAY too long.
8. I LOVE ALL CAPS TODAY!
9. and I love the ear doctor!
   

Cave Dweller

Remember that scene from When Harry Met Sally where Sally has just learned that her ex-boyfriend (Joe) has decided to get married to someone else?

She's wearing a long (pink?) housecoat, her hair resembles a nuclear mushroom cloud and her face is bright red from crying so hard.

She walks around her apartment with a box of tissues under her arm, and after using them crumples them up and throws them on the ground. She is just too sad to bend over and pick them up, or walk over to the garbage can.

That's how I am feeling this week.

However, my inability to throw used up tissues anywhere but the ground is derived from my cold, instead of sadness.

I hate being sick because I just sit around the house thinking of all the other stuff I have to get done. I can't even enjoy my time off.

Plus I don't shower and slowly become surrounded my towering piles of used tissue. The runny snot becomes a type of motar between the tissue-ball rocks and I find myself encased in a Kleenex-built sarcophagus.

Luckily, the ear doctor comes over to check up on me and deliver supplies which he carefully balances on a long pole. Then, he sticks the pole-balanced-cherry flavored ricola cough drops through the small food hole I intentionally created in my tissue tomb for this purpose. I wheeze my appreciation and he knows he is loved.

Still the same

Remember back to school night? It was the one night your parents had to go to school to talk to your teacher and find out how you were coming along in classes. It was the one night I was scared that my parents would come home and punish me for being in trouble or something.

In my family, the morning after back to school night was a breakfast filled with mystery. What secrets had my teacher told my mom? Was I in trouble? What did my teacher really think about me?

My mom would come to the table and we'd start to discuss what she learned.

Without fail this is how that conversion would go:

"Well, Katie, your teacher said you are doing very well in all your subjects. She said you are really doing well in math especially. She said you are making lots of friends and being a good student, but...

(and here is where the hesitation would set in)

...your teacher tells me that you talk too much in class. You socialize with friends when you should be doing your silent reading."

Then my mom would just shake her head. I mean, really, how would you as a parent handle that kind of news. I would be really happy that my kid was making friends. It would be really hard for me to tell them to knock it off, sit in the corner alone with a workbook and never talk to anybody.

This trend has stayed with me throughout my life. I just can't seem to keep my big mouth shut during lectures.

At BUY I took 4 classes from the same professor. By the end of my college career I had sat in front of him so long that he could sense when I was even thinking about leaning over to Brit to compliment her shoe choice that day. Everyone else in class could whisper up a storm, but as soon as my lips broke their hermetic seal Dr. Bowman would stop the class and embarrass me beyond belief.

Maybe its that I have a voice that is easily distinguishable, maybe its my flaming red hair, but I never seem to be able to get away with an indiscreet comment under my breath.

And it happened again in class today. Right in the middle of lecture, the teacher stopped, put his hand up and said, "class, remember my policy of being the only person in the class talking. If I notice conversions happening again I will use full names." This wouldn't be so bad but his beady eyes were boring a hole all the way through my eye sockets into the back of my skull.

I was immediately reduced to the little girl in class who has always been the overly social one. As I was walking across campus to meet ear doctor for lunch I realized that this has been happening to me my entire life and I laughed out loud.

The girl I was walking behind turned around and looked at me as if I was crazy. C'est la vie.

Not quite Usher

Here is my confession.

I love setting people up. I always have and I probably always will.

The ear doctor just laughs at me and shakes his head whenever I turn to him, wide eyed and (not so discretely) yank my head to indicate someone's flirtation that he should note. His thinks it's silly.

I just get such a thrill out of helping people out. Maybe this is because I'm forever surrounded by engineer guys who I just think are amazing, but sometimes need a little help in the relationship dept.

Anyway, there are a few tried and true steps that I used when attempting to set people up.

Step #1 Finding the Match
Through my experience I've developed some basic guidelines for choosing my set-up targets.

First, background. Nothing is going to work if people can't understand each other's background. I'm not saying that they both have to be from the same hometown, but it does make small talk easier if they have at least been exposed to the other's kind of upbringing.

Second, interests. If I know a guy who particularly loves rock climbing and hiking I'm not going to try to set him up with a girl who gets freaked out by spiders and has no idea what a Nalgene bottle is. While I'm certainly not saying that these two types of people can get together, I've found that similar interests are an excellent jumping off place for the set up.

Third, education. This one is not so hard and fast, but in my experience the best set-ups have come from pairing two people together who have roughly the same educational achievements or aspirations. Different areas of study are often a plus, but there should be an almost equal degree level.

Step #2 Set the Scene
After the targets are chosen, I usually tend to spend one evening talking each party up independently. Causally mentioning to Banana-Replublic-lovin-Mike that Beth and I went shopping there last week. Telling mountain-woman-Lindsay that Chris wanted to go on a hike this weekend. That kind of thing.

Step #3 Deliver the Bait
This is the step wherein I invite both parties over to my house to watch the interaction. I choose my house because it is neutral territory. This way both parties can test the waters without any risk of rejection.

This interlude is critical to the success of the set up. Up through this point it is anybody's guess as to whether or not the sparks naturally take off.

Critical to this event is the interaction. Activities are planned with mingling in mind. I circle the room and make sure that the targets are forced to interact. Sometimes all people need is a little push in the right direction. However, if at any time either party gives the impression that they aren't interested all bets are off and the process returns to step 1.

Step #4 The Follow-up
This may be the most integral step of all. All of the hard work and energy expended in the set up can be undone by skipping this step. How many times have we all met someone, found them interesting and then, for whatever reason, don't ever see them again. This is because there wasn't someone there participating in the follow up.

I call each target separately to thank them for coming to my house and ask if they had a good time. Hopefully they have (you can never tell sometimes). Then, I somehow draw them into a conversation where I innocently mention that the other target looked very nice or did something thoughtful or funny or cool. You get the picture.

Step #5 Butt Out
After Step #4 you remove yourself from the picture entirely. What will be will be. You've helped lay the foundation and created opportunity. Now it is time to step back and let the magic unfold, if it will.

Best in Show

That last post has been up way too long, giving everyone the impression that I am very sad about my uncle.

I don't mean that to say that I'm not sad, because I really am, but I also have this sense of understanding and faith that everything will be so much better for him soon. Its only us, here, that have to be strong and deal with him not being with us anymore. I know I'll see him again and that knowledge helps me.

Well this weekend was pretty awesome. I woke up Saturday morning to a cool sunny perfect Colorado fall day and decided that it would, from that moment on, be dubbed, "the best day" (said in a loud, booming announcer sing-song voice).

The ear doctor and I headed up to Greeley for our free baked potato and potato day. This was awesome! In honor of a particularly abundant potato harvest in Weld county about 100 years ago the city of Greeley has been sponsoring a celebration of the most wonderful tuber. They had all kinds of "heritage" demonstrations...everything from butter churning to rope making. My favorite was the cooper demonstration because his handmade wooden buckets were SO beautiful (I totally wanted to buy one). The ear doctor's favorite was the "mountain man" who fully acted the part. We also talked to some square dancers who invited us out to the senior center for a free square dancing lesson (which I REALLY wanted to go to, but the ear doctor didn't think it sounded so fun). We watched some really pretty Mexican dancing with their flowing rainbow colored dresses and the ear doctor told me all about the importance of the dances to the Mexican people and reminisced about his time in Mexico City.

Then, we went over to see the dog show that was being held in the next park over. Best in Show is one of my very favorite movies, so I couldn't pass up the chance to see the genuine article and compare it to the dramatization. Holy cow, the movie is DEAD on! These people love their dogs will a fervor usually reserved for offspring. They wash the dogs, they talk to the dogs, they picked he dogs up so they don't have to walk through dirt. They circled their RVs all around a big open grassy area and set up wire mess kennels for their dogs to stay in while not at the show. It reminded me of what the pioneers' circled wagons must have looked like after a long and dusty day on the Oregon trail. Owners looked like their dogs. People wore shirts with artistic dog renderings. We missed the best in show contest because we were having a serious convo in my car, but we did get to see the winner. The dog that won was a Dandie Dinmont. I'd never heard of this type of dog before, but I don't really think it is that cute. What do you think?

The dog that won was gray, not tan and all around his mouth was yellowed drool hair. Plus, don't you think the way they groom its hair makes it look like its sporting a mullet? I do.

I thought that a Bernese should have won, since that is now my new favorite dog. See, isn't this one cuter?

Boyfriend litmus test

When I was younger I had a friend who said that her mom had given her a foolproof test for her future boyfriends. This test was supposed to measure if some guy she was dating was "up to snuff." I thought it was dumb even back then, but indulged her enough to listen to her way to measure a good man.

Her idea was this:

Ask some guy with whom you've been out a couple of times on a secret date. Don't tell him what the date will entail or what to expect in any way. Then, go and pick him up in your car and drive him out to a field somewhere and tell him that your big date is to pick weeds in this field. If he bent down and got right to work without complaining it was supposed to show that he was a hard worker. If he didn't it meant he was some kind of lazy, good-for-nothing loafer and it was time to kick him to the curb.

After hearing her postulate I just stared at her in disbelief for a moment. Aside from the several things that were wrong with the logic, I could not understand why anyone would ever want to date someone who thought an evening of pulling weeds sounded like something fun to do. That kind of person sounded like a psycho to me.

I don't really believe in giving your significant other tests in any way, and restrain myself from doing so on most occasions. I think giving someone a test means that you've concocted some kind of harebrained scheme in order to see how he performs (reference above inane story).

However, I can only call the ear doctor actions over the past 24 hours a full fledged passing of whatever "boyfriend" test the universe may ever hurl at me.

Two and a half years ago I was dating someone else. I was dating him the day that I found out my Aunt was dying. In hacking, gripping, sobs dredged up from the depths of my soul I called him, yearning for his love and support. I was at my house, alone, late at night and desperately needed him to be there.

He never came over.

He let me be alone the first night of my life that I really felt I needed someone.

It was the worst feeling in my life.

At 22 years old it was the only night that my face was raw and puckered from falling asleep in tears.

Yesterday I got the news that my Uncle (the husband of the same Aunt) only has 4-6 weeks left. I knew the news was coming. You don't watch someone battle a brain tumor for 12 years without expecting the inevitable outcome. So even though it isn't sudden, it is still tragic and heartrending for me. I could barely bring myself to even tell the ear doctor about it last night...as if actually saying the words out loud made the situation all that more real, more concrete, more definite.

His love and support has overwhelmed me today. I feel so lucky and blessed to have a man in my life who is good and understands my needs. The only time I have been able to see clearly though my seemingly perma-tear-rimmed eyes has been when he is around.

He calms me.

You be the judge

Evidences I am a grown-up:

1. I am only 20 short payments away from owning my car.
2. Yesterday I realized that if I don't slow down and take an evening off soon I will completely loose my mind. I've never been able to realize that in time before.
3. I got excited because last night my friends had the ear doctor and I over for dinner and they made us chicken with prosciutto and a avocado/orange salad with white balsamic dressing. v. grown up food.
4. This morning I thought about making sure to fit "clean shower" into my list of things to do today, and it isn't even really dirty yet.
5. I thought about buying a vacuum cleaner.
6. I've started to track my finances in an excell spreadsheet.
7. I have more married friends than single.
8. I stress out about my 401k.
9. When I was at the pet store last weekend the first thought that went through my mind wasn't, "look how cute those puppies are!" but "wow, that would be a lot of work."
10. My little sister is having a baby.

Proof Otherwise:

1. I bought said car with NO money down and have been paying a RIDICULOUSLY high monthly payment.
2. Even thought I know I should slow down and take a break I think I'm going to ask the ear doctor to take me swing dancing tonight. Doesn't that sound like fun!?!?!
3. Sometimes I still make an entire box of Kraft Mac&Cheese and eat it all straight out of the pot. Why dirty another dish?
4. Even though I think about cleaning the house it still isn't a weekly ritual like it was at my mom's house.
5. After the vacuum cleaner thought drifted through my mind it was immediately expelled by my decision to just sweep stuff under the rug a little bit longer.
6. My financial spreadsheet consists of about 6 lines of expenses and one line for income. It's really kind of sad.
7. I still succumb to my fun few roommate's invitations to stay up WAY too late laughing and participating in diet coke and m&m eating competitions.
8. I stopped putting money into my 401k to go back to school. This is very dumb because these are the best years for me to be putting money in. Oh well.
9. I still go to the pet store at the mall before I go to any other store. Even Banana Republic and Nordstrom.
10. She's having the baby....I'm not.

The verdict?

Illicit Affair

I hope he'll never find out.

I feel dark and ashamed while still somewhat intrigued by your soft welcoming arms.

All through the festivities this weekend I felt your presence...ever so near. Just waiting for me to fall. To trip. To succumb.

I played the happy face of the girl in love. I played perfect girlfriend to a T. You should have seen their faces at his perfect BBQ birthday party. They bought the whole charade.

They'll never know that my affection is waning. My desire to be with him is cracking, flaking and falling apart.

Because of you.

Before I even saw you I knew that I would want you. Your absence hung in my heart like an avocado without a pit: dark, hidden and slightly green. Then, when my eyes fell upon you I knew. I was instantly transformed into someone who understood yearning. Suddenly I could no longer look at the covers of those bodice ripping romance novels and derisively laugh at their complete lack of reality. You made me want to rip my old, ratty sweatshirt off immediately and without reservation.

You.

only you.

Lust courtesy of J. Crew.

Victory is mine

Good news.

I single-handedly arranged for the coffee hour that my school department offers for grad students to be held at a time most convenient for me to attend. This way I can ensure receiving 2 free doughnuts a week!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I don't even drink coffee!

Coffee hour this morning.....world domination soon to come!!!!

(insert crazed, maniacal laughter here)

Let's Nerd it up a little

So I hardly ever really show my total and complete nerdy-ness in this forum. I don't know why, nothing has really made me want to write about it, until today.

NASA announced that Lockheed has been awarded the CEV (crew exploration vehicle) program.

This is freakin AWESOME!

To really explain why this is so cool I'll have to give you a little background about the aerospace industry. During the really cool days of JFK and the space race everyone was stoked about getting to the moon. Not just geeks like me, but EVERYONE was amped. People wanted to explore space and the western cowboy in every American heart really liked the idea of conquering the "final frontier."

After the initial push to explore space the industry started to settle into a research phase. It was necessary, but kind of boring (from my perspective). We needed to learn more about it up there. We had to figure out what weightlessness or living in a pressurized shell for months on end did to a person. We had to figure out how to keep spacecraft from leaking air out into a vacuum. We had to figure out how to keep people from going crazy up there. We even had to figure out what to do with poop.

Needless to say, those types of things weren't that interesting to the general public, and the fascination with being in space has waned. As evidence, fewer and fewer people are studying aerospace subjects in college.

The cool thing is that the culture is swinging back the other way. We've finished up much of the research required to be up there and people are getting excited to go back to the moon and beyond. The government is starting to move their money from research endeavors to cool exploration missions.

This is where the CEV comes in. NASA has money to design a new vehicle that will work on the moon, and also be usable on Mars.

Not only that, it has awarded the contract to Lockheed here in beautiful Colorado.

This is great for many reasons.

First, Lockheed is right down the road from my company and with some connections I could probably make a move to go over there if the offer became too good to pass up (although the likelihood of this is small because I actually love my company).

Second, having this program here means that a lot of great engineering talent will flood the area making my company's options for picking up some serious talent great.

Third, my company is in a perfect position to get some sub-contracts to design some instruments for the vehicle. This way I could end up working on it while staying with my company. Bonus.

Last, this is a huge step in a very cool direction at a perfect time in my career. I love that I could contribute to the second wave of great American advances in space exploration.

So cool.

(end of the demonstration of my ultimate nerdy-ness)

Good Idea Bad Idea

Good Idea:
Inviting some people over to your house for Sunday night dinner.

Bad Idea:
Not having the ability to limit the guest list or tell anyone they can't come so you have no idea how many people are coming over.

Good Idea:
Making homemade pizza dough and letting each person build there own personal sized pizza.

Bad Idea:
Not realizing that each pizza will have to cook separately meaning that people were eating at all different times.

Good Idea:
Serving a delicious salad with the left overs of your bushel of fresh peaches.

Bad Idea:
Realizing way too late that you only have 1/3 of a bottle of salad dressing left. Dry salad=gross.

Good Idea:
Suggesting that after everyone had eaten we play a game.

Bad Idea:
Playing "Riff" on a Sunday night and throwing all attempts at keeping the day holy out the window. ("Riff" is a game you play with a DVD that shows clips of music videos and you have to name the video or the artist or another hit song from the same CD as the song on the video. BTW I totally rocked the Incubus question.)

Good Idea:
Since the spirit of the day had already been ruined, giving your friends a demo of the ear doctor's wicked cool swing dancing moves in my tiled foyer.

Bad Idea:
Him kicking the wall so hard that he almost broke his toe. (Though, to give him mad props he didn't stop dancing. He's so hardcore he totally played through the pain)

Good Idea:
Bring out the guitar so everyone can enjoy my friend Jed's awesome rendition of "Every Rose has a Thorn"

Bad Idea:
Letting my roommate bring out her bongos and incessantly beating them. Quelle headache!

Good Idea:
Going to bed early (midnight) before my guests even left.

Bad Idea:
Leaving the mountain of dishes scattered all over the house.

Good Idea:
Choosing awesome roommates who did the dishes without me the next day.

Back to School

This morning as I step out of my front door I half expected to see my breath billowing out of my mouth. Not that it was really that cold, but compared to the last two days of 90+ degree weather, 67 this morning seemed shocking.

It was like Mother Nature new that it was the first day of school for most kids in Colorado and decided to act accordingly.

My mind seemed filled with thoughts about work and school and my life and I sat my rear down on the slightly chilled charcoal black interior of my car. Today is my last day of full time work for the summer. Next Monday I'll only spend half the day there and then make the trek over to campus for my first class of the semester. I started to realize that I didn't have books yet, didn't know where my classes were, didn't really know when they started and only half knew which professors I was taking. The nagging trepidation started to churn in my stomach, reminding me of the first day of middle school, high school and college.

I revved up the engine and took off to make my 6 minute drive to the office. As I slowed down to safely take the round-abouts in my neighborhood (which, BTW why are they there? They make no sense) I noticed a small girl, about 11 years old, standing on the sidewalk. She was slight, with shoulder length straight nut brown hair. She stood aimlessly and watched me drive by. After taking in her oversized black jeans, ill-fitting long white T-shirt, 3" wide black wrist band with a skull and crossbones and oversized black cross dangling from her thin, white neck I met her eyes.

I was shocked to note the same apprehension in the eyes of this little girl that I was feeling. I realized she was waiting on the corner, all alone for her school bus to come and whisk her away to another year of school. A year filled with both the promise and fear of the unknown.

At that moment I knew how she felt and it made me smile.

Wake me up

School starts next Monday.

Yikes.

I can't believe that summer went so fast. Yet, on the other hand, it seems like forever since I've been in class.

This will be my last school year of my life and it's kind of cool to realize that. It's not like I'll ever stop wanting to be in school. I love school. I love being around people all learning new stuff. It's really such a part of my personality. Still, it'll be nice to be done and to have accomplished something pretty impressive for myself.

Anyway, that's all I'm thinking about this morning.

Dear Tyra,

So I'm going to have to say sorry up front because growing up I had a really great friend named Tyra but she pronounced her name like Tee-rah. When you pronounce your name Tie-rah it kind of mixes me up. However, since you are a super star (and are thrust upon my consciousness as the most beautiful woman alive by every media source there is) and she's just a girl on whose bed I used to jump after church while wearing my Sunday white tights under my jeans, I guess your pronunciation may take precedence over hers. Although, just slightly.

So you used to model for Victoria's secret, right? Oh wait, I guess me playing like I didn't know that is kind of dumb because every person who doesn't live under a ROCK knows that.

Back to the reason for this letter.

I was digging through my drawers getting dressed this morning when I was momentarily taken aback by one of the tags poking up in my view. It read the following,

"hand wash cold, lay flat to dry, do not iron"

This would not have been particularly interesting at all until I realize it the tag was not attached to a delicate knit top, as I would have expected, but to a pair of underwear.

What?

Are there really people out there who, without this tag, would attempt to iron their underwear, ruin it and sue Victoria's Secret for not warning that their underwear was un-ironable?

Do you iron your underwear Tie-rah?

Does your maid do it for you?

How can you sleep at night knowing that your maid may be ironing and ruining all of your bounteous (and probably free) delicates?

Sincerely,

Katie

PS ANTM is my guilty pleasure. However, I truly feel that what you're doing with your show is changing lives and empowering women. I've never been able to watch more than 2.3 seconds of your talk show without realizing that I love my body for what it is. This is a lesson I could only learn from a woman who used nothing more than her near perfect body to get where she is. You really know what it's like to be me!

Dear fellow blog writers,

Sometimes I love my posts, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I come back to ones that I wrote a year ago and laugh until I'm blue in the face...not because I think they're all that funny to laugh with, more funny to laugh at. Its kind of like going back to my journal from early high school and reading about the afternoon that,

"my crush totally stopped me in the hallway and was standing a little too close to just be friends and then he asked me if I liked the Simpsons. I don't really like the Simpsons as much as he does, but I said I did and then he totally smiled and TOUCHED MY ELBOW. I think he totally likes me but I don't know. At least I do know what he totally likes me more than he likes (insert name of whoever was my secret rival for boys attention). I hope he does because homecoming is coming up and I just turned 16 so I'll totally be able to go. And maybe we can even double with (rival) so that she'll see how totally cute crush is and how he picked me. Plus he's a year older than me so he can totally drive us. Everyone at school is going to think I am SO cool!"

Anyway, back to my point. By and large it seems that I have way different taste than people who read what I write. The posts I think are somewhat decent go un-remarked, un-noticed and pretty much un-inspiring. On the other hand, the ones I write when I've let my brain take a 5 minute time out to sit in the internet corner tend to elicit much more responses (in both comments and hits). This baffles me so I wanted to ask you if you ever experience the same thing?

So do you?

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Chicago,

Over the course of my life I've heard many great things about you. It seems like everytime someone has visited your welcoming borders they have left with warm reviews and a heart full of great memories. People I've met from your shining beacon of a city have had nothing but great things to say about their formative years and your positive impact upon them.

The fist contact I had that helped establish in me your glowing reputation was my college roommate. She had the funniest yet endearing Chicago accent and, to my somewhat inexperienced Washingtonian ears, it was quite pleasing. Add to that all the great and hilarious stories she told about her adventures in and around your city limits and I was hooked. I started to have an unconscious bond. I felt that I would just like you so much if we ever had the chance to meet. Kind of how I feel about Alison from Project Runway this season.

Anyway, adding fuel to my flame of Chicago-an love I met a really cool girl the summer I spent interning in Logan, UT. She wasn't from Illinois, but she went to Northwestern and told me all about how, despite it being so hot and humid in the summer that it killed some Northwestern football players (yikes!), it was just the coolest place to be for culture and jazz.

The next summer I had a crush on a boy who loved the Bears.

Then my best friend from high school moved to an apartment 1 block from Lake Michigan. She told me about the nightlife, the interesting people she's met, the salsa class she's taking and this image of how cool and awesome it would be to live there was almost too overpowering to stay away.

Unfortunately, that all has come crashing down with your actions over the past few days.

You've taken the ear doctor from me (for the weekend) and I miss him terribly. I never thought I'd be the type of girl to miss someone so badly when they've been gone only 2 days. What have you done to me? You've duped me my entire life into thinking you were a great city. A place to be. And now what? You've pulled the rug out from under my feet.

I feel so exposed and ashamed. Rendered naked and powerless by my own susceptibility to be manipulated. How could you do this to me?

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear 7th grade PE teacher,

So, I'm sure you realize that the students you are responsible for "teaching" are at a vulnerable age. I don't think there is one 7th grade female in the entire country who is happy with how she looks or who feels completely accepted by the other girls around them. 7th grade girls are the centers of their own universe. Every comment made leaves an indelible mark in the psyche of that girl. A mark which many times stretches deep into their adult lives. A mark that lingers deep, hidden, buried inside that girl affecting who she is and how she views herself.

I would be willing to bet that every woman can trace the inception of a current insecurity back to this age.

My biggest insecurity (that I'm going to share with the internet)?

I'm athletically challenged.

Guess where that comes from?

Remember the day we were practicing our "speed walking" on the track outside Ferrucci Jr. High?

I'd missed class the day before and didn't get the instruction about proper speed walking techniques. Anyway, that day was cold and damp, like almost every day in early spring in Western Washington. I could feel the steam from my breath develop before it even left my mouth. I already didn't really want to be doing this, but as I walked down to the track mud stuck to the bottom of my converse all-stars making each step an even more monumental task. A shrill whistle sounded and we were off. I hung back with my friends talking and laughing until we were absolutely forced to move. I was walking along, keeping pace with them for the first lap, but then I got annoyed at their speed. I've never really been one to do what I don't want to, so I slowed down and made them slow with me. Then, half way through lap two I hear a pop and static and then your loud booming voice coming over your megaphone,

"Timothy, that doesn't look like a speed walk"

Complete. Horror.

Not only had I been called out of the entire class and my last name bellowed over a loudspeaker but my athletic ineptitude announced for the world to hear.

Thus, we see the inception of my fears.

From 7th grade small similar experiences built upon that foundation. I was picked last for a softball game. I missed an important shot at basketball. I hit the volleyball clear into the other court. I had totally convinced myself that I belonged to a class of girls to awkward for their own good.

That weakness has stayed with me into my adulthood.

Last night it was ended.

At kickball for the past two seasons I have relegated myself to right field. Knowing that the co-ed team needed alive and breathing females to be able to play, but not wanting to let everyone down with my lack of skillz, right field was the place for me. I haven't seen much action in the field, but I also haven't had a chance to let down my team, and I was ok with that.

Last night a left-footed kicker stepped up to the plate. There were two outs and the bases were loaded. We were down by 5 runs and at the top of the last inning of our last game of the season. If we didn't get this guy out the game was over.

I steeled my nerve.

The pitch was fast and right down the middle. The 6'3" David Beckham look alike wound up for the kick and booted it. As if in slow motion the ball hurtled up and out in my direction. For a moment I thought, "this is it. Catch it or die."

It dropped down, and because I wasn't perfectly lined up (darn stadium lights), it bounced off my left shoulder and shot straight up into the air. Time stood still. My heart broke. I'd let my team down, the season is over and everyone will remember that "Timothy can't speed walk".

Then, I realized that the ball was still hovering in the air. The red rubber was calling me, beckoning me to it. I realized that there was still a chance I could get it. I reached out with both hands, bobbled it up in the air, secured it with both hands while diving and rolling onto my back. I held it aloft from my grassy bed and was stunned at what just happened.

I stood up, ball of victory in hand and for 2 seconds just took in the scene. David Beckham was rounding first, looking back in total disbelief. The opposing team was jumping in my shared amazement. The ear doctor was running toward me at full tilt.

When I regained my senses I spiked the ball and jumped into the ear doctor's arms. I'm not a dork. Someone with those kind of crazy good kickball skillz is not an awkward loser who would get picked last for a sport. I saved our shot at the game. I did it. Me.

I am a jock.

Sincerely,
Katie

Dear Will Ferrell,

Saturday night my lover took me out for some Spicy lamb shanks and to see Talladega Nights.

Cinnamon and Gravy was it good!

That's why I go to your movies. I love your work and you made me laugh so hard I actually had to bend over to prevent my gut from rupturing. You always do.

The only critique I have is that there should have been more cowbell.

I've got a fever.

Sincerely,

Katie

PS Tell Cal that I also like to picture my Jesus with giant Eagle wings singing back up for Lynyrd Skynyrd. Classic.

Dear Alissa,

Hey girl nice hat!

I'm really excited to see you tonight at the Boulder county fair and get to know you. There are so many interesting facets of rodeo royalty that I have always wanted to know.

For instance:

Where do you get those shirts? The ones with the glitter fringe hanging from them. You can't find that stuff in normal stores so do you order it off the internet or what? Are they one of a kind? Special order?

Is it hard to hold up those flags while the horses are racing around the arena? It sure looks tough. I mean, with all that drag so far away from where you hold it there must be some pretty killer moment loads that you have to react with your little, delicate hand. (just watch the nerd in me come out)

Is the size of your belt buckle related to your status? Do they give them to you when you win the crown?

Do you have to wear jeans that come all the way up to your armpits?

How do you keep your hair so curly? My hair would never hold curl long enough to last from the National Anthem all the way through the bull riding, no matter how much aquanet I used. Is this one of the criteria for winning the title because if it is that would be discriminatory against straight-haired people. And that is just wrong.

What do you have to do to win the title? Are you just selected or is there a pageant of sorts? If so, do you have to ride a horse during the swimsuit competition because I think that would be a little awkward.

Anyway, lets get together tonight after the bull riding/fighting rodeo that the ear doctor and a bunch of friends and I are going to.

You can split a funnel cake with me and ride in my car on the Ferris wheel. That is unless you barf easily. If that's the case you'll have to sit in your own car.

Later pal!

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Cesar Millan,

Last night all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch with the ear doctor and watch a movie. We were going to go swing dancing (like we usually do on Tuesdays) but I was so tired from moving most of my boxes of stuff (no thanks to Mr. T) that I just couldn't even consider driving all the way down to Denver. Anyway, that's not important.

What is important is this: We rented two movies from Blockbuster and brought them home. I really wanted to get some Spumoni ice cream (which, BTW they don't stock at Safeway...very frustrating).

We popped the first movie into my DVD player....home movie. It was a documentary about 5 families and their home videos. Sounded like it had the potential to be hilarious.

Anyway, the DVD player started to spin up and then crapped out. I was so pissed that my year old player had decided to be lame and not work. Why is it that DVD players are such pieces of junk? I've had 3 in the past 5 years. It's not like I really work them all that hard and they just stop working. I freakin hate that I am forced to go back and buy yet ANOTHER one. Ugh.

Anyway, that's not important either.

What is important is that because we couldn't watch our rented movies we stumbled upon your show in the National Geographic channel.

You, my friend, are amazingly entertaining to watch! I really couldn't get enough of your advice and the role you play in rehabilitating dogs.

Your show is both educational and insightful and if you applied your advice to people and children a lot more people in this world would be a whole lot better off. This is what I mean:

You say that there are three main things a dog needs in life: exercise, discipline and affection. Are these not the same things people need? In fact, don't you think that our society in general is having a wicked backlash because people are not raised with these three basic necessities? Why is it that people are so interested in teaching their dogs this lessons and providing these integral tenets to the dogs in their lives but fail to do so in their children? See what I'm getting at?

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for providing such a rad show.

I've already got the next episode waiting for me on my TIVO.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Mr. T,

As I mentioned to you on the phone yesterday, I'm planning on starting my move from one side of Boudler to the other tonight.

During our phone call I was pretty sure that you committed to helping the ear doctor move my broken futon because I am totally unable to lift and maneuver it at all and the ear doctor could use some help.

However, the email I received from your agent this afternoon informed me that instead of showing up to my house to help move you've instead decided to rip off your shirt, don way too much gold jewelry and fashion a belt buckle out of letters and numbers you ripped of someone's apartment door.

I find this completely unacceptable.

Add this behavior to the subversive measures you went to last night to misdirect half of my kickball team and you start to understand my frustration. Seriously, we had to forfeit because you told everyone that other things were more important and/or the game was an hour after the posted schedule reported.

Please shape up or ship out of my life.

Sincerely,

Katie

PS I have to give you props on choosing gold over silver....much more this season.

Dear Michael Buble,

Hey pal, how's it goin?

Just wanted to drop you a line and let you know that the show you played for my birthday in Spokane last week was freakin cool.

However, I've never been to a concert like yours before. Ever. And I have to admit that I've been to quite a few concerts in my time.

No one warned me that your concert, while filled with absolutely AMAZING music, lighting and stage presence, would be completely attended by crazy, randy, 40-somethings.

These women all flocked up to the stage and stretched out their hands to have that one brief moment of ecstasy that would be physically contacting you. It was strange. Does it ever make you kind of uncomfortable to be lusted after by women your mom's age (or older)? That would be pretty weird for me.

However, your show was just so good that I can over look that. I am so glad that you are around singing old standards. As a swing dancer and lover of everything vintage I am so impressed by your ability to conjure up the coolness of a bygone era. People of our generation hardly know the old songs of Ella and Frank. When I make a joke about the rat pack they shake their head, look at me and say, "did you mean to say 'snack pack' like from Billy Madison?"

So yeah, good show. Did you get a chance to see any of Spokane while you were there? I called you like a bazilllion times to see if you wanted to hang out with the ear doctor and I but you never returned my calls. (which, Mikey, is really quite rude). Anyway, here is a weekend re-cap of the activities that you missed out on.

The day after the show we went downtown to the thriving metropolis of Spokane, WA and saw Monster House. The lead character totally reminded me of my cousin Tyler. Then, we had a freakin awesome bbq with my bff Kathy and her baby Olivia (her hubby Matt came too). Olivia is getting so big and totally walks on her own now (kind of).

Friday morning the ear doctor, my mom and I drove out to the Hiawatha trail in Montana and did a 16 mile bike ride along an old railway track. It was beautiful. Western Montana is right up there for the most beautiful places on the earth.

Saturday I took my dad golfing at the course I worked in high school. Michael, I was totally hitting the ball like a pro! I was starting to have visions of my Nike endorsement and my joint celebrity status with Tiger. I only lost 2 balls!

On Sunday the most amazing thing happened. I flew from Spokane to Denver (via a layover in Vegas) without a single mishap. Both flights were on time, I got the seats I wanted, my luggage came over fine and I found my car without incident. It was really an amazing feat. I'm sure you can remember the days when you used to fly commercial airlines so you can truly appreciate how rare this is.

Thanks again for putting on that great show. If you're ever in Denver and looking for a place to stay my futon has your name written all over it.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Michelle Kwan,

Hey pal! What's up? Its been a while since we caught up. So long, in fact that I was totally surprised when you helped the ear doctor throw me the most awesome birthday weekend ever.

So, I'm sure you know everything that happened, but I just wanted to fill you in on all the details, because that's what girlfriends do, you know? Cool.

So Saturday we went to the renaissance festival. It was freakin so much fun. The ear doctor's parents went with us and they were their typical hilarious and fun selves. There were so many crazy dressed up people; I was in people watching heaven. What possesses a full grown man to don a tunic and pull up the tights I will never really understand.

We had a turkey leg (finally) and a bbq pork sandwich. Also, they had this treat there that I've never had before and was delicious. They cut an orange in half and that froze a mound of orange or strawberry Italian ice to the top of the halved orange. It was freakin amazing. The ear doctor and I decided that at our next BBQ were were going to do the same thing except with limes and raspberry sorbet. Michelle, you would have just died over the little girls all dressed up as princesses. You would have been so jealous of their sparkles.

Then, after the festival we came home and the ear doctor took me to my favorite place in Denver for dinner.

You totally know the place I'm taking about, don't you? It's so cool that you know me so well.

Tamayo is SOOOOO awesome.

After dinner we went to see you and your pal Sasha Cohen at Champions on Ice. I totally love that they respect you and your accomplishments and don't make you do the cheesy (yet wonderful) closing number. When Sasha kind of slipped and fell on her bum it was slightly reminiscent of the games, and it was pretty clear to everyone there that Shizuka really is the best and rightfully won the medal this year.

Michelle, can I just take a minute to brag about how rad my boyfriend is? I doubt that he would ever in a million years want to go to see you skate your little booty off of his own free will. He knows how much I like ice skating and went because (a) you and I are such good friends and he likes to make a good impression on my friends and (b) I secretly wish I was living the life of an Olympic ice skater...just like 85% of this nations female population.

Anyway, so yesterday was actually my b-day, but I figured it would kind of be low key because it was Sunday. We both went to church (which was great and if you're ever interested in knowing more about Mormons, let me know) and then went to his house to hang out. I left to go home and take a Sunday nap (my favorite ever). The ear doctor told me to come back to his house at 7 because he was making me a fancy, romantic dinner.

Turns out he was really throwing me a surprise birthday party with all of my friends! He made the most delicious roast and mashed potatoes. I was sad you couldn't come, but with the tour and everything I totally understand. Maybe next year!

Anyway, good luck with the rest of the tour. It was really awesome.

Give me a call so we can catch up soon! I want to hear all of the drama between you, Sasha and Shizuka because I'm sure there is some great dirt.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Leann (Maggie's MIL),

I want to make this hat:



Do you think you could help me figure out the pattern?

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Scalp,

So today you are totally fascinating to me.

This weekend I (rudely) left you out in the sun far longer than the 10 minutes that it takes you to burn. Consequently, you turned a wonderful shade of pink. Actually, judging by the level of pain you caused me, I thought I had actually blistered you right up.

I'm truly sorry about that.

Today you have begun to flake off in huge, disgusting, leprosy-like flakes and as much as I know I should be embarrassed by you I am secretly very intrigued. I've never noticed your personal flare with peeling. You are so unlike my arms, legs and nose when you peel. When they peel it comes off in long, thin, silk-like layers. You, on the other hand, peel off in deep, thick, angry chunks. Chunks that stick in my hair and give the impression of poor hygiene habits. Picking bits of you out of my hair gives me a sick kind of pleasure that I should try to hide but refuse to.

Right now you are so itchy that I wish I could just spend the rest of the afternoon in front of a mirror getting every little bit out.

But I won't.

I'll save that for tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Grandma Jane,

I don't know if I've ever told you this or not, but I think you are amazing.

Now that I'm not at BYU anymore I really miss being able to pop over to your house. When I became overwhelmed by the strange and foreign atmosphere surrounding campus I would take a break, drive 10 minutes, and be engulfed in a haven of family and love. I remember having homework and projects looming over me, stifling my creativity and all but damming my ability to smile. All of that pressure would loom large until I drove up University to your house.

It was like hiking in the mountains when the clouds sink low into the valleys. You stumble, strive and struggle through the murky clouds until you finally reach the cloudline. Then, suddenly and without warning you break through and the sun is shining so intensely that you have to squint to take in the brightness coupled with relief.

That was invaluable to me.

The time we spent hanging out in the sunroom eating re-heated homemade chicken soup and watching the birds in the pond reminded me of what was important. It kept me grounded, sane and real. It gave me perspective. When Maggie got to live with you her last semester at BYU I was so jealous. I couldn't believe how lucky she was to have to best two roommates in the world. When she told me about how you guys all ate dinner together every night and went to see gardens on the weekends I was green with envy.

I love you. I love everything about you. I love it that you go to the gym about 10 times more often that I do. I love that you are so busy and full of life. I love that I can help you figure out your computer. I love that you have every spice in the world in your spice cabinet. I love that your garden is the most amazing on the block. I love that you send me cards you printed out from your computer.

Which is why I love that you were so thoughtful to get me the perfect birthday present this year. My birthday isn't until Sunday and two days ago I got a box in the mail. I didn't even put it together that it might be a gift, but when I opened it up and found the most beautiful, gleaming 8" chef knife I was so stunned that I was speechless. I've already used it a bunch of times and it makes everything so much easier on me. It really helps this new-found cooking passion of mine. I even let the ear doctor use it just to show him the amazing difference having an awesome knife makes.

So thank you grandma. From the bottom of my heart.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Derek W,

Thank you so much for saying that I am witty and that my blog was funny and cool today at lunch. Sometimes I start to wonder if my writing is enjoyable to anyone besides myself, but when people compliment it without any prodding at all its nice.

It really made me happy.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Boss,

Thanks so much for the surprise today.

After my long and awesome trip out to Lake Tahoe (pictures will be coming later) I was kind of dreading coming back to work this morning. Your little gift made it much easier.

Now, instead of trying to keep five windows open at once I have two beautiful monitors to use.

I feel so loved and very hi tech. I promise to use this new monitor to its fullest capacity. It really means a lot to me that you would invest your money in making my job easier. Now when people glance into my office they will see the majesty that is my dual monitor computer system and realize how very important I am.

Because, we all know, your level of importance in the workplace is measured by how cool your computer set-up is. Or was that how your dork level is rated? I can't remember.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Bryan, Alan, Becky, and James,

I just wanted to show you what you are going to be missing this weekend:



Yes, what you are looking at is the weather report for Lake Tahoe this weekend. That perfect weather prognosis is what Britt, Derek and I will be enjoying. While we will miss you all, we want you to know that we will be having a fabulous time in one of the most beautiful places in the country with the most spectacular weather you could ask for.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear New House,

For the last three weeks the majority of my brain power has been dedicated to a housing search. Turns out I am kind of picky when it comes to places to live. This is probably directly attributable to the dumps that I chose to live in while attending college. Now I feel like I've paid my dues and really don't want to ever slide back into the mindset of being able to live anywhere.

I've spent hours upon hours searching craigslist, rent.com and rentclicks. Cross-referencing, cataloging, printing listings I've put together a fairly impressive index of available rental properties in Boulder.

However, at the end of last week I found you. You little gem hiding out in North Boulder. I love everything about you, from your 3.5 bathrooms to your vaulted ceilings. From your shuttered windows to the calm sage green walls of the master bedroom. It was like you and I were made for each other. I can't wait to sign the lease and begin paying your owner's mortgage.

I thought that once I had found "the one" this restlessness in my soul would be appeased. I thought that everything would calm down and I'd be able to work really hard in other areas of my life (aka work, church, relationships). Alas, this has not been the case.

From the very moment that I've found you my head has been reeling. I keep thinking about how best to go about decorating you. I search bedding, kitchens, craft spaces, laundry rooms, bathrooms, wall decor, area rugs, throw pillows, furniture, it goes on and on. My head is spinning around this stuff so much that I feel like my eyes just spin around and around like a quarter going down one of those funnel-shaped donation buckets.

My daily clicks to news sites and family blogs have warped into this mad infatuation with sites like Oh Happy Day, Decor8, Domino and Oh Joy!

Please, tell me that I'll do a good job of making you into my perfect little space. Tell me that I'll be able to afford everything I want to do. Tell me everything will be alright. I'm starting to feel out of control.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Rain,

In case you didn't get the memo, this is Colorado. The place where it is dry as a bone and people who live here love that fact.

Consequently, when you choose to come and POUR all weekend you seriously cramp everyone's style. All I have heard at work this morning is about the rain. Someone complains about it and then someone else tells them not to be upset because we "really needed it."

I just wanted to let you know what I missed because of your behavior. To give you some kind of preface for this story, I have to go back to the first summer I lived in Colorado....summer of 2002. I was a lowly intern with the company that I work for now. I was living in crappy, nasty student housing up on the hill with no airconditioning and two roommates who wouldn't speak to me when they found out I was Mormon. One day at work I heard someone telling a story of their weekend. The started to describe something that I very much wanted to see. The renaissance festival.

Basing my assumptions on the interesting people who were part of the sword and quill club at BYU, I was immediately intrigued by this event and went to the source of all information to do a little research. The internet. There I found that the Colorado renaissance festival was a huge event occurring every year where people dressed up, jousted, and fenced. Unfortunately for that season I was too late; the festival ended at the end of July.

Upon returning to BYU I put this serious disappointment aside, thinking I would probably never return to the great state of Colorado. Imagine my delight when fortune turned at the end of my senior year and I indeed ended up back in Colorado.

Summer of 2003 was a hard one for me. I didn't really know anyone and spent the majority of my weekends flying home or driving up into the mountains to visit friends from BYU. I didn't have the sway over anyone to induce them to come with me down to Larkspur.

Fast forward through the next two summers when camping trips and weddings derailed my attempts to attend.

At the beginning of this summer I was set on going to the festival. I made up a schedule of every weekend in summer and found the only day I could go was July 8. July 8th was to be the day when my ultimate desire was to be satiated. I was looking forward with heady anticipation.

When I woke up Saturday morning and saw that you had chosen to foil my plans by arriving in a very unseasonable monsoon that lasted ALL DAY LONG I was amazed. At first I looked out of my window, staring in complete unbelief. How could this happen to me? I'd made a plan! I am outraged! Oh well, I guess it'll be alright. Fine, I'll just go next year.

Anyway, I guess it's good that you came. We needed the rain.

Sincerely,

Katie

PS You owe me a turkey leg.

Dear Joey,

I recently heard about your defeat and wanted to send you my most sincere condolences. I am very proud of your efforts and think that you should have won this last weekend.

There is only one thing that I really truly look forward to watching on ESPN, but this year the event carried with it a sting of betrayal. No, I'm not talking about the scandal of the tour de France-cyclist-blood-doping fiasco. I'm talking about the ridiculous outrage that I experienced when I discovered that you were ROBBED of that beauty of all beauties.... the coveted mustard yellow belt given to the champion of the annual Nathan's hot dog eating competition on Coney Island.

For the last couple of years I have witnessed the amazing eating prowess of your Japanese competitor, Takeru Kobayashi. I was amazed that he ate with the speed and skill of a trained samurai. No one even came close to his abilities.

However, this year there was one man who rose out of the ranks of obscurity to truly challenge Kobayashi's kung-foo grip on the competition.

An American.

You, Joey Chestnut, were the common man I could get behind. The shy, quiet, every-man engineer that I could relate to. Reviving the American spirit for the 4th of July and reminding us all of why we are who we are. Why we do what we do. You were the clear victor.

Sure, Kobayashi ate more dogs than you did. I'll admit that all the live long day. However, it was a clear as the lemonade you used to soak your bun and slide it down your throat that he should be disqualified. He broke one of the cardinal rules of the sport. He should be disgraced, disbarred and dismembered for accepting the victory.

He vomited a bit of his 49th dog back into his lemonade cup.

Granted, he did slurp it back down and continue on but I do not agree with the official line the judges are trying to spin. Who on earth could buy this trash:

"The effluvia never touched the table," Kuntzman said, a distinction he claimed was part of the International Federation of Competitive Eating's official rules. "When the hot dog came up, and some of it came out his nose, Kobayashi sucked it back down. To me, that's the testament of a champion and great athlete."

Joey, don't let this set back dissuade you from your true calling in competitive eating. You are a true athlete who will rise again. You have my support.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Adam Sandler,

I have to admit, I've been a fan of your work for quite some time. I've loved almost everything you've ever put out there. From your light and goofy era of Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison to your more romantic side of Wedding Singer and 50 First Dates it's all been good. (I'm pretending here that that animation 8 crazy nights never happened).

Not only have you provided much needed tension-releasing entertained in my life, but the life lessons you've taught me have come in quite handy. Occasionally I find myself falling back to your silver screen antics to solve one of my personal problems. For example, yesterday I considered depositing a flaming bag of poo on Meeeeee-gan's doorstep. Oh what sweet revenge it would have been to watch from her bushes as she jumped up and down on the bag to put out the flame while her husband and all the neighbors looked down on her disturbing the peace of their neighborhood.

Last night the ear doctor and I went to see your new movie Click. I was prepared for a few laughs and some light hearted comedy. What I got was far more.

That movie was excellent. It went beyond your normal bounds of love-at-first-sight romance or seeing some loser overcome his losery-ness.

It actually made me tear up and cry. It made me examine my life and make sure I had my priorities right.

It was moving, deep and powerful.

So thank you. For being yourself, for staying true to who you are and doing what you do best.

On a side note, I also think it is very cool that every movie you make has some aspect of Judaism it in. Props.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Meeeeeeee-gan,

As I told you during our first phone conversation I saw your listing for a 4 bedroom house to rent on craigslist. From what I could tell in the photos supplied, your home is really quite cute and may be just what my friends and I are looking for. You seemed cordial enough on the phone during our first conversation. However I have since learned your true nature.....that of heinous spawn of the devil.

Your true colors shone through brilliantly yesterday when I called to make a follow up for our walk through of your rental. In my most friendly, yet efficient and responsible-renter tone I introduced myself again and before I had a chance to confirm our appointment that YOU MADE I was rudely interrupted.

You informed me that you had spoken with your husband and all the neighbors and decided that we weren't good enough for your precious little area. I guess at the neighborhood council last night you had them all up in arms about the 4 wild hooligans that were interested in turning their idyllic sanctuary of a neighborhood into the kind of place that little children wouldn't be safe out at night.

And I guess you're right to worry about the 4 faithful, church-going, full-time employed, college graduates and their tendency to not only bring down the property values of the neighborhood by parking our 23 broken down cars on blocks in front of the house, but also start a meth lab in the basement. That likelihood is very high.

Good luck trying to find a small family to rent your house....for $2000/mo.

I have a news flash for you. If I was a small family and had enough money to afford a $2000/mo rent I would BUY a house, not rent something in an overprentious, stuck-up, nosy, and not really all that nice neighborhood.

And I hope you take my suggestion to heart. Remember? The one where I said you should change your craigslist ad to say something like,

This renter is only interested in renting to small families. She heartily supports discrimination based on life circumstances outside of ones control. Don't even think of applying unless you are a small family with a ridiculously large income and don't have the brains to actually buy housing and start gaining some equity with all that money you throw around. And really, if you are anything but white, upperclass and own at least two audis (or equivalent) you will never be accepted in the neighborhood so you might as well not even apply.

Good luck finding a renter.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear guy who was riding his motorcycle to work without a helmet,

This morning when you pulled up beside me at the stoplight at 27th and Baseline you looked over at me in my car and gave me the rudest look.

Was that really necessary?

I mean, I was only belting Mariah Carey's "Hero" at the top of my lungs with every window open. Is that really so offensive?

Oh, I see your point.

Carry on.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Bed,

Since I have been back from Oregon I have slept in you twice. Neither night has been restful. You have done your very best to preclude me from entering your soft refuge of shedded feathers of fowl and I'm left questioning why?

Have I done something to offend you?

Are you taking out your anger in a passive-aggressive (non)statement?

It seems that way to me.

Every night I fall asleep on my back with my hands folded serenely over my torso. Every night, that is, until I got back from my trip. Now when I flop in bed I am immediately impelled to turn over onto my stomach. I never sleep on my stomach. I don't like sleeping on my stomach.

Anyway, I think your behavior is childish.

If you have a problem with me you have to tell me.

I'm not a mind reader here.

I hate to throw around ultimatums, but if you don't allow me into your cool cocoon of comfort tonight I'm going to target to get new sheets.

Don't tempt me because I will do it.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Jenny and Jordan,

Look what happened:

Jenny's love of my buddy Bill

and

Jordan's love of the puddin pop pusher

Eerie, no?

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Oregon State,

Last weekend I took a trip up to your lovely campus to see my little sister graduate from college.

First let me comment on what a beautiful location you've chosen for yourself. The Willamette valley is one of the most breathtaking places on the planet. It is so green and intense that I felt like I was driving through a mural. Also, Corvallis itself is adorable. There were so many gorgeous old houses with character and charm. And the intense scent of the mint fields just up the road made my olfactory senses reel in nirvana.

However, there were a few things about the trip that I feel compelled to point out. I do this, not because I am a complainer, but because I feel like if you don't know what is wrong you can never fix it. And I'm all about being helpful.

There should be some kind of warning as soon as you enter the valley to anyone who has hayfever to pick up their SARS mask before driving any further. I had the worst allergies of my life this weekend. My head felt like exploding. Although the Pollyanna in me did come out when I realized I probably lost 5 lbs in snot alone.

Also, after receiving their degrees almost half of the student body just got up and walked out of the ceremony. By the time the handing out of the degrees was done the seats down on the field, intended for the graduates to enjoy one last celebratory moment together, were half way emptied. All of the Masters students had left even before the undergrads had even got anything! I felt like it was very tacky and rude not to wait to support the others. I've never seen anything like it. My thoughts were this, "if you don't want to sit through the ceremony and don't want to walk that's fine...Don't come to the ceremony. But don't come, sit through all of the pomp and circumstance for 2 hours and leave before my little sister (whose last name starts with a W and was part of the last department to walk) has a chance to get hers. Its all or nothin folks"

Thanks for taking the time to read this letter.

Go Beavs!

Sincerely,

Katie

PS My dad thought your stadium was awesome.

PPS Serving concessions during graduation is a genius move.

Dear Heidi's,

Oh my gosh. You will never believe what the ear doctor did for me.

So remember the other day when we tried to have you for lunch and I had to be back to work for a really stupid meeting. Come on, remember? It was the day I didn't get to eat there because the ear doctor and I got preoccupied and didn't show up to your door until 20 minutes before my meeting started. Well, I decided I didn't want to chance being late for the meeting, so I left the ear doctor there and headed back to my office.

That whole afternoon I was totally starving because I hadn't had time to eat.

So last night the ear doctor said that he had a surprise for me. Excitedly, I waited until after our institute (bible study) class. Then, the ear doctor pulled me into the little kitchen area. He pulled out two small square Styrofoam take-out containers.

He opened the first one and there was one of your beautiful cannolis. As he reached for the second one I said out loud, "if there is an eclair in that box you are the man of my dreams."

He reached over and unlocked the little Styrofoam tab and there it was. The eclair. We both sat on the counter talking and laughing and enjoying your delicious gourmet desserts. It was awesome.

Oh, Heidis, I think I love this man.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear neighbor,

I think it is very important to be nice to your neighbors. In my head I still hold this idyllic image of everyone on the block getting together for 4th of July BBQ's. I like thinking that when someone new moves in you bring a plate of cookies because you want to get to know them.

This is why it pains me to have to write this letter.

This morning as I lay in my bed at 6:45 am, I was in a half awakened state. This is my favorite part of the morning. Laying there and realizing that I can turn over, tuck my down comforter up under my chin, search my right foot around for a cool spot in bed and fall back to sleep for half an hour.

Then, your thoughtlessness interrupted my revere.

You started to mow your lawn.

In the etiquette of neighborly-ness (on which I'm sure Emily Post is currently working) it is commonly known that you don't start mowing your lawn at a time when you will be waking up the entire neighborhood.

You and the guy who is re-roofing his house (at 7 am) need to get together and make a pact about this.

Thanks so much for your understanding. I hope this won't damage our relationship, but if you continue I'm going to have to start letting my roommate's dog poo on your lawn.

Fair is fair.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear Rockies,

Saturday night I braved the traffic down the Denver with a bunch of friends to watch you play a game against the Dodgers. But, I have to be honest with you because that is what real friends do, I've never really liked baseball. The game is slower than basketball, usually doesn't have the eye candy like football or soccer, and for some reason I always end up with my ankles splashed by someone else's warm beer.

Nevertheless, this outing was my idea and my sacrifice because the ear doctor loves the Dodgers. I thought, because your reputation for less than stellar baseball prowess, that the ear doctor would have a great time seeing his team demolish the competition.

Imagine my surprise when, after hiking the equivalent of Mt. Everest and finding found our seats in the very top of the stadium, in the first inning you had already pulled ahead of your adversaries!

Additionally, I had a personal sports-related first. In between my first course of foot-long hotdog and giant diet coke and second course of twisted cinnamon sugar covered pretzel I saw one of the players break the bat! And, even though my friend Super-Softball-Chick (SSC) derided me for it, I experienced childlike fascination with the long, pointy shard of wood that came flying out almost to the first baseman.

Usually I get very bored with the game by the beginning of the 6th inning, but the game you provided this Saturday managed to keep my interest. You must have been giving the game your best effort (because I was there?) because you were leading the Dodgers the whole game. Although this was frustrating for the ear doctor I found it very interesting.

We walked around the stadium to find some better seats and got to watch the game from every vantage. In the end we returned to our seats in the nosebleeds to meet up with the rest of the group. When we got back the ground at our seats was soaking wet with beer. In the time that we'd left to walk around someone has spilled theirs and I missed getting splashed! How great is that.

In the end of the game there was a very tense moment where there was a full count and 2 outs and the pitcher walked one of the players. I really appreciate you keeping the suspense up and letting me feel that I got my money's worth out of my $9 ticket. Very considerate of you.

All in all, I had a wonderful outing and I really appreciate all your hard work.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear random guy at work,

Alright, I get it. You are more than just a nerdy engineer. You have risen above the countless weekend hours you spent during middle school playing D&D and are now hip, trendy, and have roped in that elusive quality...."coolness."

But please, for all that his holy on God's green earth, STOP TRYING TO PROVE IT BY WHISTLING.

I know you go out to small clubs all around Denver to listen to new undiscovered bands and have the best taste in music. However, why do you feel the need to put those air traffic controller headphones on and whistle along to the burnt copies of the band's CD that the drummer handed you last night after the show?!?!?

Do you realize that the whistling is monotone and pounds in my ears with the unrelenting force of a rabid rebel force?!?!?

And on a Friday afternoon?

Just thought you might like to know how I feel.

Sincerely,

Katie

Dear United Airlines,

I'm writing you to express my joy at discovering a new service that you provide. Thank you so much for sending out an automated message to everyone on a flight that you cancel and rebook. In the future, I see this as a potentially very useful feature. Also, while I hope it never happens to me, if my flight does get cancelled it would be very nice of you to let me know before I brave the Denver traffic to get out to the airport.

However, when you called my cell phone at 6 am this morning to tell me that Ron and Renee Schnider's flight to Chicago had been cancelled and their flights rebooked onto a later flight I was a little bit annoyed.

Last night was the hottest night yet in my airconditioning free bedroom. Coupled with the heat, every muscle in my upper body was SCREAMING from my first day of 2006 summer water skiing. The result? I didn't fall asleep until about 3:30 am when it finally cooled down enough in my room that the glass of water on my nightstand stopped boiling. Imagine my delight to be awoken by the ringing of my phone at 6. Also, because I didn't answer it and just let it go to voicemail (foolishly thinking I could just fall back to sleep) I didn't know who it was.

Suddenly, the words of a nagging voice in the back of my head crystallized.

Who would be calling me so early on a Thursday morning? It must be my mom. It must be an emergency. Oh no, my Uncle, who has been suffering with brain cancer for 12 years, has slipped into critical condition. Now I'm going to have to get a plane ticket up to Seattle. I wonder if the airlines reserve seats at cheaper prices for just such emergencies. Can I afford to even go? Can I afford not to go?

Then, on an adrenaline rush I reached over and picked up the phone. Imagine my elation at hearing the metallic voice of a computer telling me that someone else's flight was cancelled. Someone else who gets to leave work and go on a trip. A vacation. A get away.

In summary, I just want to send my congratulations to your company for offering such a helpful service. I hope in the future this type of thing comes in handy for me and saves me a headache. However, it is clear that there are still a few kinks to work out of the system.

I hope my input has been helpful.

Sincerely,

Katie

Top 10 ways to spend a Tuesday morning

The premise of this countdown list is that you aren't on vacation and still have to go to work. Otherwise, obviously, not going to work and playing all day long is the best way to spend any time.

Without further ado:

10. Lay in bed realizing that you have to go to work, but being late won't be a big deal.
9. Wake up not covered in sweat because it got cool enough the night before to take the sweltering edge off of the air inside your 30 year old, air conditioning free house.
8. Wake up 5 minutes before the alarm and feeling totally alert.
7. Go through the morning routine not dreading the next 8 hours you have to spend at work.
6. Say a really heartfelt prayer.
5. Have your mom call you to tell you that she is going to buy you a plane ticket to come home and visit in July for your birthday.
4. Make yourself an English muffin where every little craggy hole is filled to the brim with delicious, melty real butter.
3. Blare your favorite CD with the windows down until the upper-middle class suburban "Ganstas" in the car next to you look over and make a face that says, "I can't hardly hear my own hard core rap over that crap you're blasting.
2. Realize why you like spending time with your roommate.
1. Hit the lake for 2 hours of waterskiing just as the sun is coming up over the rim and have the most beautiful glassy water of your life.

In case you couldn't tell, all of the above happened to me this morning. HOORAY!

Changes

So, in case you haven't noticed, today is the day of the new blog layout (she announces over the deafening screams of excited fans).

I know, I know, this is a much anticipated day.

You are probably feeling a mix of emotions. Everything from excitement and elation to a bit of fear and betrayal.

Don't worry, everything will be alright.

You'll learn to love the new and different parts of life.

Don't be afraid to let go and experience new things. It can be strange and uncomfortable, but in the end you will have grown into such a stronger, more experienced, more empathetic person.

And isn't that what life is all about....growing, learning, developing?

The Hills

Alright, I have to admit something that is slightly embarrassing.

I am a total sucker for high school teen dramas.

Yesterday I left work early and went to see Just my Luck and guess what....I thought it was decent. Predictable, yes. Cheesy, yes. Just like every other movie in this genre, yes. An enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, yes.

Knowing this, you can't really be surprised when I also admit that I liked watching Laguna Beach. It was bizarre to watch those highschoolers and to realize that that was reality for some people. Some people really did go to high school with people who could all be found in the pages of the latest Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue.

Consequently, I was mildly interested in the new show "The Hills" which follows one of the Laguna kids up to LA to keep filming this person's life. Last night I got around to watching it (thankyou DVR).

It was retarded.

It made me mad that because this person is on MTV she got a very coveted internship with a fashion magazine and she can barely even write. Then, her only job at some dumb celebrity party was to keep people from sitting on a few chairs and she couldn't even do that. It just bugs me knowing that there is probably a ton of people out there who are hard working, smart, ambitious people who would die for that job and here is this MTV kid getting their job and screwing it all up. Ugh.

And her little friend Heidi? When she was in an interview with the dean of her new fashion college she flat out told the dean that she pretty much doesn't care about school and just wants to party. A few times the camera panned back to her face and the only adjective I could think of was vapid.

So why is it that I have total patience for these characters last year when they were in high school and now that they're in the "real world" I can't handle it?

After watching the show I felt kind of bad for the characters because in 10 years they will (hopefully) have matured, found what they really wanted in life and contributed to society and they will have a complete season set of DVDs showing how silly and foolish they were at 19.

At least the rest of us have those dark moments undocumented and not presented for entire country to see.

More on marriage

Earlier in the semester I told a friend that I wouldn't marry someone who wasn't of my same religious faith.

He was shocked.

He called me close minded.

I asked him if he had any kind of traits that he was looking for in someone that he was going to spend his life with. He rattled off a list of things like, athletic, smart, preferably from the mid-west, ect.

The subject of our conversation moved on, but since then I've been thinking about it.

Do you think it is more closed minded to not consider marrying someone because they have a different religious belief, or because they didn't like to rock climb?

Is it really so bad to say, "out of the millions of people who I could potentially spend my life with can't I pick to be with someone who shares the same answer to the fundamental questions of existence, like 'why am I here?' 'what purpose does my life have?' "what happens after death?'"

I just don't think that's a close minded choice.

But if you do, tell me. I want to know. I promise not to be offended in any way. I just want to hear other perspectives out there.

I enjoy being a girl...

I don't know why, but I can never find a dress that I like. They are always too short, too long, the wrong color, the wrong cut, the wrong material, poorly made, way too expensive, ect.

However, after reading Jordan's blog (a cool new blog that I really like), I stumbled onto the dress of my dreams.

It is just beautiful. How I long for this dress. Actually, if it were just a little bit different I would probably have to run right out and drop the whopping $350 that it cost. Here are my alterations that would make this dress absolutely perfect.

First, I would add little capped sleeves. Sleeves that just barley sneak over the top of my shoulder. The sleeves would have curved folds in them to keep the line of the swooping material that goes under the bustline.

Second, I would raise the neckline in the back up a bit. I think a low back is very very pretty, but having it that low means that I probably wouldn't wear it to church. I would like to be able to wear this dress-of-perfection everywhere and for anything and the higher back would let me do that.