To my first-born daughter (who is no longer a teenager) on her birthday.

Dear Gracie,

It’s been a minute since I’ve written a birthday blog letter to you or your sister. To be honest, the scope of it scared me a little when I wondered if I should do it. If I could do it. But getting to see the joy of you in motion and seeing peeks of the young woman you’ve turned into through texts and shared stories here and there, I’ve noticed there are threads of who you’ve always been. You’re grounded and true and the Graciest of Gracies. It makes my heart so happy to see you are you-er than you.

So, while I was laughing at the pressure of writing you a beautiful birthday letter, I decided maybe I’d look back at what I’d written before. Because your sparkliest bits have always been there, baby-mine. And it was pretty funny remembering what a riot you were! And it is kind of funny that it’s happening when you’re turning twenty. Because “twenty-twenty” used to be the biggest number you knew. Remember that? So here’s to being twenty(-twenty) — let’s see how you got here.

One of the more obvious bits that’s always been such a part of you is your love for music. I adore that you still love music and live shows. Now it’s Hozier and dreaming of Coachella; when you were five it was Petty and the Eagles (“Mommy, I heard rock n’ roll and it was beautiful.”), but also Little Einsteins (“Never mind. I thought this was the one with Shubert.). I loved listening to you sing in choir and having your friends sing pieces for me while we cooked dinner. 

Remember when you taught us the only way to have a birthday party (even at six) was to get the cops called on you. That was the year when you added scary logical reasoning skills to your love for music. You learned to riddle things out and that ninja logic started coming through, and you started to let go of the magic in your rush to grow up. I hope you finally listened to me about swinging on the monkey bars and giving yourself permission to be a kid. (And I’m sorry if I took some of that away from you or made that tougher these past few years.) You need both: critical thinking skills and being able to just let loose and have a dance party or dabble in whimsy and magic. I see it in you and I want it to bloom for you always.

You still wear a Red Sox hat better than anyone I know, and I love that your loyalty the Sox and the Pats still runs strong! But remember that time I had to explain who the Yankees were? You and Bee-girl were only allowed to say “stupid” (you called it the S word) when the Yankees and the Cheeseheads were on. I know you’re loyal to your Texas teams, too, but I’m glad you still have Boston in your heart.

There was the Year of Being Seven that was really the Year of Learning All the Things! When we could barely keep up with you and you taught me about volume and mass and simple machines, and didn’t understand why your teachers couldn’t come to your sleepover party. You panicked at the thought of any little thing going wrong, but still hadn’t quite mastered the idea of humility. Not in a bad way – you’re just crazy wicked smart. Kind of like that nursing student who re-took bio-chem or org chem or whatever it was a second time because your low-A grade wasn’t quite good enough. Your thirst for knowledge and curiosity and quiet confidence in yourself (as the eye of a panic-hurricane that you won’t be good enough) is both startlingly familiar and looks dazzlingly good on you, Gracie. You were always born to wield your intellect like a superpower!

When you turned 8, and one of the first things I complimented you on was how trustworthy and even and steady. You are absolutely a carer by nature. You feel your best when your tribe is happy and at ease, and you’ll absolutely contort yourself to make anyone you care about feel better. It’s been tough for you to learn that it’s okay to care for yourself, too – in fact, to care for yourself first, so that you can then support those around you. It’s a beautiful gift, Gracie-girl, and it’s going to help you be the most magically spectacular nurse! You’re the one I’d turn to in a crisis — you’d sop up their blood, insist on order like the McGonagall you are, and then have all of us in stitches laughing at something. As you do. (Is being a protein everything you thought it would be?)

Not all of you is the same. Perhaps it’s just the peeks I’m privileged to – you could be (and probably are) entirely different with your friends – but now you seem a bit more reserved than your middle-kid self. The one who interrupted me from wishing you happy birthday if it was before 10:51 p.m. exactly, but who still flung open the door when returning from your dad’s house an sang operatically, “HAPPY BIRTH-DAY TO MEEEEEEEEEE!” with an arm flung out. Goofy with a heavy side of laughter, indeed. In fact, just as you needed to be dramatic about All The Funny, you were just as hardcore about technicalities. “Technically” was your favorite word at 9, and that’s when our family motto because “What’s. Your. Evidence?” You needed those tangibles, the dramatic little facts you could squeeze in your hands and point to with absolute certainty.

Which is hilarious because I’m all the way up to 9-years-old and I’ve yet to read a birthday letter that doesn’t mention your love for negotiating.

That skill-set could have taken a scary turn because Being 10 was the year that you’d sigh, turn to me, and say, “Math soothes me, Mom.” You loved science and math and all things sneakery and spy-related. You loved arguing politics. You loved jumping out and scaring everyone. You loved gory graphic novels and being in control. And if all that doesn’t swirl around in a beaker to create Doofenshmirtz, you’re lying! So, I’m very, very, very pleased you decided to not turn to a life of cartoonery and evil, and instead you’re using your powers for good. So far that I’ve seen!

Turning 12 and basically having a coming out party: you had your own room, but you became closer to your sister. You wanted nothing to do with your mum as you learned who you were without parentals…but still wanted to be my right-hand man. You primped and preened in the mirror but didn’t care if you matched. You made music.ly videos and binged TV and finally got a cell phone and limited texting capabilities. I knew then that I should treasure all. the. texting. God, what I’d give to go back, Goofy-Guts! But you – you knew you even then. That’s what I see looking back. And you should be so flocking proud of yourself for staying true now, and for being YOU even at 11.

This bit, from when you turned 13, makes me teary-eyed with how perfectly it summed you up – and still does: “You’re exactly what the universe decided I needed, my own special gift. A pain in the ass, sure, but a gift all the same. And I can’t even tease you too much about your teenagery, sarcastic, over-achieving, lazy, helpful, eager-to-please, confident, anxious, full-of-laughter, loyal, football-crazy self because, well, I sort of nudged you in that direction, didn’t I? You’re my mini-me, which helps (I hope) in helping me parent you. But I hope it doesn’t hurt too much. I am always trying to do my best by you because you exceed my every hope, sweetheart. You still seem to be so many steps ahead of me, funnier, smarter, braver, YOU-er than I could ever have hoped.” It made me weep knowing what was to come; but also hopeful in where I hope our relationship can strengthen and grow from here, into its own 3-D definition.

Watching your social self evolve from 4 to 9 to 13 to 16 – I’m not at all surprised you chose a hybrid of sorority life and living at home. You’ve always been social, building your community around you, filling in, clinging close to old friends and always daring to reach out for new ones. But if you still feel more like homebasing and using your sorority as a launch pad, you’re not going to let anyone talk you out of it. You do your research, consult your heart, probably overthink it to death with your person, and then you do it. Steady and anxious-but-sure and resolute.

It was the quiet around your birthday in the later years that catches my heart. The times when I was drifting. When you were teenagering. When I wasn’t sure what pieces of you were mine to share, or which you’d be embarrassed if they were loose in the world. I tried to respect boundaries. I hid behind walls. Of silence. Of trauma. Now I’m hoping that my words can weave together a rope bridge so I can cross over and visit your island and get to know you again.

Because you are still someone who means the very most to me. Even the bits I don’t know. I want to know them. All of you. Because even the tiny windows I can see through show a dazzling, warm, captivating magic. And I’ll tell you something else, Gracie – a little secret. It’s still you. You are what makes you so fun. What makes life around you so fun and filled with laughter. You are the gamechanger; you are what changes the tempo of any room you are in. You are what changes the mood of any room you walk into. You have this gift, sweetheart, of putting everyone at ease, fixing everything you put your mind to, making us all laugh with you. Okay, yes, and sometimes at you; I confess. You are one of those special people who have this gift to light up the entire world. Absolutely, even just the possibility of you, it makes my world spin round.

In all the best possible ways.

Happiest of birthdays, daughter-mine. I am endlessly proud of you. I am glad for you and of you. And I love you with my whole heart, my whole self, always always always.

Love,
Mum

Spring, sprang, sprinted away.

It’s only April.

Only April.

April in New England, at that.

Pfft. Okay. Yes. I’m huffing. Huffing quite a lot, actually. You’d think I’d know better. (I do.) You’d think I’d have adjusted. (I swear I have.) Instead of tornado season like if I were back in Tejas, we have blustery winds, torrential showers every other day, and – yes – temps that change every other minute.

But somehow, in the space of ten days, my heart has seized the once mind-blowingly gorgeous offerings of 50° here, 63° there, and now outright expects it as the norm.

Katie: it is April. Only April. In New England.

Yes, when you return from vacation and the forecast promises a low of 46°, it might lie and only be a single degree above freezing. You might have a bit of ice at the edges of your condensated windshield. You might have wanted a jacket, not just a heavy duster. Even if it’s in the 60s later that day.

But 28° this morning? A full-on scrim of frost and ice on the inside of the windshield? It’s too much! I do not know where spring has gone, but I would like it back now, please.

The Muppets Movie Makeover That Needs To Happen. Obviously.

To set the scene, I was in Texas visiting my bestie and her family. We had gone out for sushi, it was flooding rain outside, and we were having casual conversation over dinner. Our casual conversation:

Me: “You know what movie the Muppets need to make?” (As if they were their own entities, able to decide on and sign new deals or manage their own lives. As if they had lives. Yes, hi. It’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me.)

Bestie’s oldest daughter, Redhead #1: “What? We didn’t like Muppets’ Christmas Carol, soooo….”

Me, ignoring Bestie’s Boyfriend who says he only likes classic Muppets: “Princess Bride!”

Every jaw dropped. We have a longstanding love of Princess Bride. When the girls were younger, my sister even recreated Princess Bride scenes with Legos with the kids during her version of “summer camp” with them. (You can see some of the scenes here.) Naturally, my rather brilliant idea won over the table.

We quickly started talking which Muppet would play which character. After Princess Buttercup and Wesley, we were divided, recasting roles and moving Muppets from one place to another. We wished for a feltboard (dating myself there), or a whiteboard so we could see where everyone was and who had been cast. Clearly it was a visual exercise. But let’s see if we can recreate it!

Princess Buttercup. Clearly the lead role must go to Miss Piggy. Not only is she the best fit for the role, I am certainly not going to be the one to tell her she didn’t get it. Karate chopped this early in the morning? No, thank you!

Wesley. Our leading man has to be none other than our leading Muppet: Kermit the Frog! He’s Miss Piggy’s One True Love. He can play the Man in Black with ease (can’t you picture a mask on that darling little face?) And who doesn’t want to see Kermit utter my favorite line in the whole move: “Drop. Your. Sword.”

Vizzini. After casting our leads – the easy ones – we moved on to our second set of main characters: the villains. Vizzini, leader of the kidnappers, was hard to cast. We thought about Gonzo, but then we wanted him for another role. Vizzini is super charismatic, a bit devilish, and loves to use the word “Inconceivable!” While he does have a lot of dialogue, and that’s in contrast to how we typically see Animal played, I thought Animal could carry off the insane character traits and maybe say “Inconceivable” the same way he utters “In controooooool” through Jason Segal’s Muppet Movie (instant classic). If you have a better suggestion for Vizzini, let me know in the comments!

Inigo Montoya. One of my favorite characters! We need someone lithe, someone with pep, someone who could pull off leather pants while wielding a sword. We need: Pepe the Prawn! He has an accent, and everything! One of my favorite memories of introducing Princess Bride to my kids is when my oldest, Gracie, won herself a comb from the arcade that operated like a switch blade. [We’ll leave that terrible marketing decision alone.] She must have been about 7 or 8, running around my parents’ house, wielding the comb like Inigo’s sword, chanting: “Hello! My name is Monigo Montata! You killed my father! Prepare to die!” I can’t!! That kid, I swear. So, yeah. I went with a “new school” Muppet because I think he has the X factor to pull it off. Though I nearly went with Floyd or Sam the Eagle.

Fezzik. Fezzik was one of the easiest cast, and I think the first we thought of, laughing over our dinner. There’s even a physical resemblance between the oversized Muppet, and the oversized Andre the Giant. Makes you wonder if it was an homage. Who can’t hear Sweetums asking, “Anybody want a peanut?” or climbing the Cliffs of Insanity with Miss Piggy, Animal, and Pepe clinging to him.

Prince Humperdinck. We come to our main main villain! At first, we talked about making Gonzo play Vizzini. Gonzo is always the bad guy, the arch-nemesis. He just has the necessary panache. And he foils Kermit so perfectly. But while most of the action is between Wesley and Vizzini, and Gonzo has the mouth to pull off all of Vizzini’s lines, we decided he needed to be the bad guy who was pulling all the strings. Humperdinck. Gonzo will be able to wear that shit like a crown! It ended up being one of my favorite castings.

The King and Queen. Setting aside Count Rugen, our last major character to cast, let’s move onto the minor characters, beginning with the King and Queen (since we’re talking about the Prince). They don’t do much in the movie, other than wave at the villagers, escort Princess Buttercup around, and get dizzyingly excited when Buttercup kisses the King after announcing her impending suicide. Scooter is a main Muppet, part of the core crew. And while Skeeter certainly was for Muppet Babies, she’s sadly disappeared from the Muppet Show. I found a cute mock-up of what she’d look like and yeah, I think the pair of them fit here nicely!

The Albino. Mel Smith was brilliant as this spoof of a henchman. Making the study of pain his life’s work, and metering out torture by sucking away years of Wesley’s life once he’s been captured: it’s a glory to watch. And who better from the Muppets to act as a hulking, goofy barbarian, torturing years of Kermit’s life with bad jokes? It has to be Fozzie! Though we did consider Animal and bad drumming at one point. Like I said: lots of moving pieces and trying out different looks!

Miracle Max and Valerie. This iconic duo who show up to help Inigo and Fezzik bring The Man in Black back to life, I had to find someone fuzzy and offbeat, someone who could bring the laughs. And the madcap science that Benson can bring: of COURSE it was these two. Beeker beaking “LIARRRRRRR!” the way Valerie does. Ohhhh, I cannot wait!

Impressive Clergyman. “Wuv. Twoo wuv. Wuv is what bwings us togevuhhh today.” If anyone fights me on the Swedish Chef playing the Impressive Clergyman, I will cut you. I mean, the dude even has an impressive hat! This (obvious) choice had the table in such laughter we nearly choked.

Yellin and the Guards. Yellin isn’t a terribly important character, than ordering the guards about and handing over the “Oh you mean this gate key?” key to the portcullis. But we need a role for our faithful Rowlf, and this seems just the thing. Get it – he’s a guard dog! And since we need a flock of guards (to be doubled), who else should step in but Camilla and Gonzo’s flock of chickens.

Count Rugen. Which brings us back to Count Rugen, our last main dude. We had such trouble casting him. Gonzo could lend the gravitas. Floyd and Doctor Teeth were still in the mix, and the Muppet who blows shit up. But I wanted Floyd, Dr. Teeth, and Janice to be in the minstrel band. They can get routed out of the Thieves’ Forest. Sam the Eagle, maybe, but he could never pull off being a bad guy. Unless that was his schtick and he kept complaining about it. We had lots of back and forth over sushi. I was nearly sold on casting Jack Black (an honorary Muppet, if there ever was once one), we we finally decided we’d turn it into a crossover event, which would give us access to the Muppets of Sesame Street. I thought about casting Bert and Ernie together, and they could keep counting their fingers to see if they were the six-fingered man. And then Corrie, bestie that she is, busted out with: The Count! The COUNT has to be Count Rugen. He’s The Count!

The Ancient Booer. Also known as the Heckler, I figured if we were making it a crossover event, we should use another Sesame Street character. I suggested Big Bird, because he’d stand out in a crowd. And he might be nice about it, but he would honestly ask Buttercup why she married another when he true love lives. Might be a right pest about it, asking oh-so-innocently. But the Redheads said Oscar the Grouch was the only logical choice for a heckler, and dimmit, they were right!

The Grandson. I thought we were done casting the movie. Then the girls asked who was going to play the grandson. I was going to go with Robin, but Corrie quickly answered and said I could use Jack Black (who was my answer to almost everything at one point or another), and it fit. It’s a goofy, spoofy movie – why not?!

The Grandfather. Which leaves only the The Grandfather. And who better to play the incomparable Peter Falk then the most highly esteemed Morgan Freeman. Everyone’s voice of reason, of logic, of the Universe, of love. Morgan Freeman will softly and surely respond, “As you wish.” And everything will be right in the world.

So there you have it! Our casting choices for the Muppet’s version of Princess Bride. I don’t know why they haven’t hired me to write the script already; clearly we are filled with collective genius!

Time to Begin Again, Michael Finnegan.

My life has always been filled with music and songs. The radio playing in the kitchen. My dad’s stereo blasting on the other side of the closed kitchen doors. Records, cassettes, CDs, playlists. Walkmans, Discmans, and transistor radios. Live music. Girl Scout songs. Records and nursery rhymes and silly little folk songs and tidbits Mum would sing to us. Some of those ones weren’t even real. We’d just sing them here and there as we went about our tiny little uncomplicated little kid lives.

There was one of those songs that I loved because it was catchy, because it was nonsense (I’m sure), and because it had that magical earworm quality kids seem to love: “There was an old man named Michael Finnegan, Climbed a tree and bumped his shin again, He climbed down and then climbed up again, Poor ol’ Michael Finnegan, Begin again…” That poor ol’ Michael Finnegan was always doing things, and then having to begin again. At the time, it felt like a curse. The endless suffering of the Sisyphus of our youth. The struggle of always having to begin again.

Now, it feels more like a blessing.

A small grace to have the chance to not exactly start fresh – nothing is ever that uncomplicated. But to begin again? Yes, that feels closer to what this is.

I started this blog sixteen years ago. It was a place for me to discover myself again, figure out who I was, process everything I was going through. It was 2028. ‘2008: The Year of Kate’, I branded it. And now here we are, beginning again. ‘2024…What’s It All For’? Hmm…there might be something there.

What’s it all for? To again use writing to process what I’m going through? Self-reflection? To create connection. It’s a place to create meaning for our brave and scrappy little group. Sixteen years ago I said, “You can’t get there from here.” But I swore I had a plan. Well. That plan might have collapsed under outside influences, but here I am, still standing. Time to find a way to get there from here, maybe with only the barest hint of a plan. Be myself; keep writing; find a way forward. 2024. What’s it all for? It’s for us: that’s what it’s always been for.

C’mon, Michael Finnegan. You’re up. Time for us to find a way to begin again.

Losing heart: don’t do it, don’t you dare!

I was so taken aback, my jaw dropped. Just me? Has any of you ever found this kind of fortune in your Chinese take-out?

losing heart

Losing heart. What the hell?! Who gets a fortune like that? First of all, that’s not even a complete sentence. Secondly, …okay, I’m sorry, I’m back to what the hell?! again. It hits a little close to home.

I’m trying to remember that no matter how many times I have to climb the mountain in front of me, it’s going to stand there until I get past it. It’s my mountain, and it’s just my luck. Some people have their houses burn down. Some people lose their children, or lose parents at an impossibly early age. There are so many different kinds of trauma or hardship.

My mountain is my mountain. Sometimes it’s easier, sometimes it isn’t.

Don’t lose heart, Katie-girl. You can do this.

My best life apparently includes ALL the wildlife.

Today was a rough day. Like, almost throw up from the stress of it all kind of rough. Because no one likes surprises. Especially stressy, tough surprises. And not those surprises over and over again.

Honestly, yous guys, I feel like Wile E. Coyote a bit, because just when I feel like I’m getting back on track, rebuilding my best life, feeling great about who I am and where I’m going (except for one or two pins I need to fall into place), and then… KABLOOEY!!!

But! When I woke up this morning, I pulled up my Girl Scout socks and told myself that anyone who can find a bald eagle in the wild – a bald eagle nest, even! – doesn’t have anything to worry about. She’ll manage.

Of all the inspirational things I tried to tell myself, that was the one that actually stuck to the wall.

Because you know what? I DID see a bald eagle – a bald eagle nest, even! – in the wild! I’ve seen a mature bald eagle, majestic, breathtaking, damn near miraculous honestly. And I’ve seen two fledglings still in the nest (…who i maybe thought were part of the tree at first. Shhh! -don’t tell!). The fledglings were ginormous; nearly the size of their mama. They all just sat there, occasionally preening. Not much ado about anything.

How crazy is that? I’m a city girl. I didn’t roam out of the city…well, maybe a little towards the suburbs as we roamed the Langolier pole path, and sat by the sides of swamps. By “we”, I mean one of my uncles took me. He used to be an avid hunter, and for the past 15 years or so, he’s changed fields and now photographs (and sells prints of) New England wildlife. I had gone to his house to vent to him and my aunt about the newest surprise stress, and after I finished unloading, my uncle asked: “Wanna go look for some eagles?”

“Uh – YES!!!!!” was my reply. I think I had my shoes on before he finished turning around.

I’ve been asking him him he finds all of these animals; I know there are tracking methods I could just study, but my uncle’s talents are beyond that. He just happens about all kinds of things, like he’s a woodland magnet, or maybe a Disney animator with a magic wand.

Whatever it was, we saw the mama (or papa) eagle with the two fledglings at the first pond. Then we went to check out the owl tree – sadly, nothing doing there. I’m glad we went though, because he’s been telling me to look in the tree in the town center. I drove there and there are twenty trees in the little triangle of park! The owl tree he meant? Is across the street in front of someone’s lawn. But he made up for it – we went rambling down backroads, seeing the squirrels the size of cats; a deer ran in front of our truck thankfully when we were crawling along; there were red-wing blackbirds; crows the size of eagles; an empty osprey nest; and then my proudest moment: I asked what the bump on top of a telephone pole thingy was, and it was an Osprey sleeping! Mrs. Monopoli would be so proud of me!

At the next place, which was next to an adorable old-timey cemetery a few towns over, one I’ve driven past a hundred times!, we saw osprey in their nest with wee ones; Great Blue Herons stalking fish in the shallows; other Great Blue Herons in nests (like apartments) with fledglings; paired swans; Canadian Geese; duckies; and even muskrats swimming around! And then, as if that wasn’t enough Disney wonderland to lift anyone’s spirits, he pointed out a doe that was walking through the woods on the opposite shore. See what I mean about how he’s a woodland creature magnet?

All of that buoeyed me today. I hope the thought of it helps someone else, too. I’ve given Uncle John a new list that includes pheasants, bobcats, and a black bear that’s a safe distance away. (If football has taught me nothing, it’s: be very, very specific with your requests to the Gods above.) Oooh, and pheasants – I should tell him there’s been an update. I can’t add porcupines or anything else until we check some off. But it’s okay – I’m keeping track.

And then it turned out the stressy thing went my way this morning and I have a month’s reprieve so I can show everyone that I really am trying to be the best Katie I can be. It just turns out that my action figure comes with a field guide and binoculars.

The girl went over the mountain…

It’s rainy together. Rainy and miserable. And to be honest: it’s kind of put me in a funk.

To be more honest, I started out having a bit of a Jonah day. I have some custody stuff that bubbled up over the weekend, and…. I keep making hard decisions and tough choices and wondering when the terrible, awful, no-good, very bad hurdles will stop showing up. I’m doing my best to build myself back up, but at some point… Man.

So! Because I’m having a bit of a moment, a bit of a day, I decided to post something that I did this week. Another thing that made me feel deep happiness: I reached the top of Mount Wachusett.

There are a ton of hiking trails, all of which I want to crawl into, and explore, and see wildlife. They’re the kind of trails that make me want to sing Girl Scout songs at the top of my voice. (But that would scare the wildlife and the hikers.) So I haven’t. Yet.

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The pictures don’t do it justice; the views are phenomenal, even in all the haze. There are helpful signs at the top of the firepost-climby-tower thing. They show you which mountains are which, and where they’re located. Did you know that you can see Mt. Snow in Vermont? Or mountains and ridges in New Hampshire? Obviously you can see Mt. Manadnock. That bit that’s circled red in the picture? You can’t make it out as well as in person, but that’s the Boston skyline! It’s stunning!

I can make it over the mountain. I know, sometimes, that it seems like asking for help and getting things in order creates more of a problem that never seems to end. But this is the life I’m meant to be living, and if there’s a mountain in my way? Well, then there’s a mountain in my way. It only holds the power that you give it and allow it to have.

So I’m going to be sad if I need to be sad. But I’m also going to remember that I can go back to that mountain top at any time and remember that I can do it.

I can do it.

….the girl went over the mountain, because that’s what was next.

Small victories (and silly little goofs).

I’ve been hitting the gym pretty regularly. It works out for me since my dad’s house is old and you can hear everyone walk everywhere, nevermind trying to work out. And that’s before you try to even find the space to work out. Or a time when we’re all awake at the same time.

I’m proud of the commitment I’ve made. I’m moving steadily (if a little slowly) towards a healthier me on the outside, as well as emotionally.

Down one pants size, two more to go!

That’s right – I’m killin’ it! …We’ll just pretend I didn’t walk a full block past the car when I tried to go home today. Heh. If that isn’t the Katie-est move I could have made in light of all my “glory”!

Chasing deer and owls and sunsets (oh my!).

I spent my evening at my cousins’ again – they leave tomorrow on their new adventure, and I’ve spent nearly every night this week at their house helping them get ready and just enjoying the excited vibe.

When I left, rather than head home, I banged a (figurative) left and drove through the backroads of the towns around me, chasing the idea of finding an owl or turtles or frogs crossing the road or a deer or any number of fun wildlife.

I saw turkeys, grazing on a hillside, but wild turkeys don’t even count anymore….even if I tweet “Turkeys.” every time.

I didn’t see any lynx or owls or deer on the backroads (though I did see a fawn cross the road ahead of my car when I was driving back towards home). Instead, I found this:

It’s not what I was looking for. But it’s just what I seemed to need. Don’tcha think?

Let’s go Red Sox (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap)!

Is there anything better than seats on the first base line, in the early summer?

Hanging out with friends, good seats, frozen lemonades, sunglasses, goofy smiles, and that moment you learn you’re in the shade not the sun. Summer nights in the Woo!