Love counts blessings…

November 26, 2009 by Katie

…between mouthfuls of pie. I’m pretty sure that’s how the saying goes. Ahem. I was saying, today is Love Thursday, and what better way to meld Thanksgiving and Love Thursday than to (say it with me now!) count my blessings. (Yes, I bring a slightly mocking tone, for that’s what I do when I am happy and content and have a belly full of good food, but more so because I tend to get a little mocking and punchy when I have serious things to say. That’s just what we do in my family.)

I am thankful for the Big Things Everyone Mentions: getting to spend so much time with my daughters, my (relative) health, the health of my family and friends, that I have a job when so many people do not and that I can pay all my bills on time, that I love others and am loved in return, and that I’ve had another (again – relatively) good year.

I am thankful for the Itty Bitty Things too numerous to mention, and so are represented here by a small smattering: that my pies were baked with nary a hitch, that I melted some Tupperware in the microwave that night which restored my sense of balance to the universe, that The Ex and I (finally) managed to broker a peaceful solution to the holiday visitation schedule, that I actually received Christmas wish lists from my family, that someone thought to invent chocolate, that I so far exceeded my New Year’s Resolution this year that even I can’t believe it, that I can run two miles without falling over and dying, that Gracie is learning how to read, that Bee is so stinkin’ cute lately that I do not kill her when she in her whiney-mode, the ridiculousness of Storm Chasers, and that I have a nice, warm, cozy space like this blog to air my dirty laundry while I sort it all out.

Lastly, I am thankful that I am no longer so full that I feel like throwing up at the thought of eating again. That only took approximately eight hours. (Although, I strongly suspect that if I hadn’t stopped for three pieces of pie and as many cups of coffee this afternoon, I might have regained the will to eat again somewhere around normal dinner time.)

Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Love Thursday, everyone! May your hearts (and bellies) always feel this full and happy in the year to come!

Beware – I think the apocalypse is near.

November 25, 2009 by Katie

Huh. This is weird. Really weird sort-of-weird. Today is the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The day I dread most out of all 365 of them. Know why? I’ll tell you why – it’s because today is the day I have to bake pies. I hate baking pies and pie-baking hates me. I can’t do it. Simply CAN NOT do it. I cry. I beg and plead and whine. Then I call my mom and cry some more. It is not pretty, folks.

I was prepared this morning for my usual pie baking fiascos. That’s what I do now – I just plan around the inevitable. I made sure I wouldn’t have either of the girls today so I could have my meltdowns in private. (No need to scar them – when they get older, they are totally in charge of pies and I don’t want to ruin their confidence when it comes to pie-baking unless I absolutely have to.) I bought three bags of flour and 12 sticks of Crisco so I could start over as many times as I needed to. I had emergency store-bought pie crusts in the freezer in case I had to lie. And I had lots of alcohol on hand in case I needed to drink away the memories. I told you I was prepared.

When it was time to start, I went through my checklist. Rule Number One: Put on Christmas music. Check. Rule Number Two: Put on the magic apron. Uhh…I don’t have my mom’s magic apron, so I put on an old ratty Gibney’s t-shirt from where my mom used to work. Check (sort of). Rule Number Three: Pull out the spaghetti pan for mixing the dough and the magic pastry cloth to make the dough roll out easier. Check. Rule Number Four: Call and warn Mom that I was starting the pies. Check. I was good to go – and an hour later was when I realized that the apocalypse was near and that we’re all going to die.

I rolled out four pie crusts – two bottoms and two tops – in my first four attempts.

I didn’t understand: there were no emergencies, no cursing, no second attempts, no lemon volcanoes in the oven. Everything just sort of went…perfectly. I started at 11 a.m. and my kitchen was clean by 12:30. Then I tried to figure out what to do with the rest of my day.

I haven’t figured it out yet, but in the meantime, if the world ends soon you can totally blame it on my perfect pies.

Your deadline is quickly approaching.

November 24, 2009 by Katie

Dear Sock Owner:

Because I am a compassionate person, I thought I would remind you that Thanksgiving is only three days away. Three measly days and yet…I am still Christmas music-less. (You know, I bet poor ol’ Mr. Grinch’s heart would have grown three-sizes much sooner if someone had sent that dude some cheerful holiday tunes.) I gave you very clear instructions. I hope – for poor Mr. Sock’s sake – that you see them through. Or else…

Sock will be run over by a VERY Big Car.

...microwaved until he esplodes.

...and run over by a high-speed locomotive.

Go! Send me Christmas carols! Don’t make me put the sock next to fried bologna.

All my best,
The Sock Bandit

I could be a professional vacationist.

November 23, 2009 by Katie

Hello there! Guess what? Yes, I’m on vacation again. I could get used to this.

I should tell you (whilst dodging rotten tomatoes, I imagine), that I’m not really on vacation. Just sort of. You see, I have the week off from ThePlaceThatShallNotBeNamed, but because of one part insane daycare rate hike and 2 parts crazy holiday shuffling of the children, I have Gracie when she would normally be at daycare. I would have kept both girls during the day, but part of my plans include pie-making – having both girls around would NOT be conducive to that. Perhaps next year when Bee is more “Leave me alone and let me play” instead of “Fetch me something RIGHT NOW and every five minutes until I tell you to stop!” So I decided to leave Bee in daycare today and tomorrow. Yes, I’m a horrible mom – I admit it, so go ahead and judge if you want. I’m over it.

I’m sort of looking forward to having some one-on-one time with Gracie. If daycare would allow me to substitute one child for another without making me pay full tuition for both, I’d ship Gracie to daycare tomorrow and keep Bee home and have the same sort of fun. Because listen to our plans: today we’re going to Walmart (while everyone else is working) to get some cheap pie savers and to exchange some of her jeans that didn’t fit. I’m also going to help her buy Bee’s Christmas present. Then we’re going to a movie matinée (that’s a surprise). Then we’re coming home and baking pies for my Insignificant Other. Then it will probably be time for her to go. Doesn’t that sound like fun?! Now I really wish I could switch out the girls and come up with some crazy fun plan with Bee tomorrow. Alas. I don’t want it $120-worth. I’ll just put that money in Bee’s therapy fund instead. (Kidding! Sort of. I hope.)

All of this was to say that the post I had planned about Thanksgivings when my mom was young will have to wait. But don’t worry – it’s coming!

“We Don’t Care About Women” week continues.

November 20, 2009 by Katie

This morning, the news article that made my jaw drop announced that women shouldn’t have pap smears until age 21, regardless of sexual activity, because the cancer screened during the test is increasingly rare. Yes, I only know 6…7…8…8 women who have caught an early cancer via pap tests. But wait - it gets better. Paps should only be given every two years instead of every year, and after age 30 if a woman has had three normal paps in a row, she should only have them every three years. I don’t know if the fact that the recommending body this time was the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists makes this study better or worse than the mammogram fools.

WHY DO I FEEL SO FREAKIN’ INVISIBLE THIS WEEK??!!

“I love the whole world…

November 20, 2009 by Katie

…no place I’d rather be!”

Oh – hello. You caught me singing. Thanks for everyone’s excellent advice yesterday on how to quit whining and get happy already(!). I followed it all. Then I went home, watched this video ten or twenty times, and whaddya know – I got happy. Go watch it. Seriously. It’s work-friendly, just make sure the volume isn’t cranked (because then you’ll infect the entire office with the Happy Happy Earworm). I double-dog dare you not to laugh when the giant Transformer sings Boom De Ya Da.

So – go! Watch! And be merry! For today is Friday and who doesn’t love Fridays?

Love struggles.

November 19, 2009 by Katie

I don’t want to be writing my blog right now.

I am cranky and emotional. I spent two days earlier this week fighting over this and that (all of which were beyond my control) at ThePlaceThatShallNotBeDiscussed. Yesterday was spent slugging out round four and five of holiday negotiations with The Ex. I have spent more time this complaining and hurting and cursing and trying to unbaffle my brain. I am exhausted.

Last night I spent hours trying to think of what I could possibly blog about for Love Thursday. Something righteous (breast cancer). Something frivolous (my new love of TLC’s Stormchasers and Kim’s new love an obscure red wine the IO introduced me to). A gratitude list. The upcoming holidays. The ideas fall from the sky – but they would go SPLAT! on the ground. Nothing seemed to take root and grow.

It sucked. And it was all my fault. It wasn’t that nothing wonderful had happened during this past week – it was my attitude. My attitude was the reason nothing seemed lovely and worthwhile. Certain things I’m struggling through right now might be pretty crummy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel some compassion and appreciation for things that are worth smiling over. And today might not be any better, but that doesn’t mean I have to curse and stomp my feet and act like a two-year-old. I might have to borrow it, but by golly, I am going to find some grace to help me through the day today. Heaven knows it’ll be a struggle, but I am going to let it all go today.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone. Give yourself a break today from everything that’s pressing down on you and maybe those troubles will forget to come back to you when the day is over. (Yeah, yeah, it’s cheesy – but I’m doing ‘optimistic’ today, remember?)

So we’re clear: we’ve ALWAYS been crazy.

November 18, 2009 by Katie

I think some people were surprised (in a good way) at my socks-capades yesterday. Not that I had anything to do with the socknapping. Ahem. In any case, my family has always been rather good at laughing at ourselves and even better at pulling practical jokes on each other.

For instance, my the guys in my dad’s alley at work (that’s what they called their section of the post office where they pitched up their routes), they were always pulling jokes on one another. My dad would come home and have us hunt up props for him to bring in. One time, I remember he had me use fabric paints to make a shirt for his friend Roger. I don’t remember exactly what was going on, but it was making fun of Roger’s supposedly stinky breath. (Perhaps they were poking fun at his lunch choices? Who knows.) I do remember it was one of the rare times my dad was genuinely happy. And laughing – I remember the laughing.

Another time that stands out requires a bit more explanation. It was back when I was a senior in high school and my mom – my dear, sweet, lovely mom who had been a stay-at-home mom until my junior year when my baby sister started kindergarten – well, she started to slip a little. Oh, she didn’t lose her marbles or anything nearly as interesting as all that. I think it was more along the lines that she started to feel it that her babies were growing up. Her oldest baby was about to leave for college and so she felt safe in regressing a little bit. For instance: she had a tiny little plastic dinosaur that one of us must have gotten from one of those quarter gumball machines you find at grocery stores. She named her dinosaur (was it Stanley?) and started talking to him…mostly when we weren’t paying her enough attention. It was all for fun, never to be taken seriously, but she kept going even though we teased her. One day I got it into my mind that it would be hilarious if Stanley hung himself with dental floss from my mom’s fruit basket. He even left a suicide note along the lines of, “I can’t take it! Having an old, 40-something housewife for my only companion is too much! Goodbye cruel world aaaaaaaahhh!…….” My mom was mock-shocked – but she got over it quickly. In fact, I would say she got over it right around the time she stole my toothbrush as revenge and left me ransom notes and a treasure map to follow in the toothbrush holder.

And then there was the time I killed my mom’s Snowbaby. I think that is my favorite prank. (Quite possibly because I’ve forgotten an even better one. Details.) As you might have figured out, my mom collects the Snowbabies figurines you can buy at Hallmark. She lurves them. Like, luuuuuuuuurves them-loves them. So do I actually, and I plan to inherit them. I probably should have remembered that before I pulled my prank. In any case, my mom had set out all of her Snowbabies on the bookcase like she usually does. She had removed the books, put down the layer of fake snow, and set up little scenes of Snowbaby revelry. Like I said – she adores them. Because my mom rarely gets what she wants instead of what she needs, we usually treat her by purchasing several new Snowbabies for her every year. That particular Christmas (I think I was in college), my mom had received a large, plush, posable polar bear that was created for the Snowbabies line. While my mom was cleaning up the wrapping paper and such after we had demolished opened our presents, I took her polar bear into the other room where her Snowbabies display was, pushed his front legs down and stuck his butt up in the air (like he had pounced on something), and pushed over a Snowbaby in front of him. Except it wasn’t quite the right effect. So I took a white napkin, pooled some ketchup on it, and arranged the napkin next to the Snowbaby’s head. Excellent. Now it looked like the polar bear had killed it. I showed everyone else what I had done and waited for my mom to find it. It didn’t take long. “Kate Marie!” echoed across the house. I have no idea why she thought it was me. Sure, Kim and Rhi probably wouldn’t have thought to do it (though they would have helped), but Joey was equally as capable of masterminding that sort of prank! Thankfully everyone thought it was hilarious. I even have pictures lying around here somewhere.

See? So, really, stuff like what will happen to Mr. Sock (dun, dun, dunnnnnh!) have a long and storied history in my family. Maybe that’s why we all sleep with one eye open!

You have GOT to be kidding me!

November 17, 2009 by Katie

This was one of the lead stories on cnn.com today: Women should not receive routine mammograms to detect breast cancer.

You have GOT to be kidding me. I mean – really. Really? My favorite moment was when (in the very next paragraph) the article story goes on to say that NOT A SINGLE PERSON ON THE 16-MEMBER PANEL WAS AN ONCOLOGIST. Not one person - not one – was an expert in what the hell they were recommending. They also did not state whether anyone on the panel had lost a family member to breast cancer or known anyone with the disease.

So. Great. Any one want to take bets on how soon medical insurance companies are going to drop routine mammograms from our coverage? My insurance – one of the best offered – already doesn’t offer routine colonoscopies to those over 50 years old – even though those are recommended.

I am going to see if I can locate the names of the panel members. I think they need to be published so they can claim responsibility for the ridiculousness they are setting in motion.

I think I know how to get my Christmas music.

November 17, 2009 by Katie

Dear Sock Owner:

If you want to see your beloved sock ever again, I demand you send me $1,000,000 pretty, pretty CDs filled with Christmas music. Don’t try any of that ‘unmarked bills’ crap, either. I want playlists. (Alphabetization strictly up to you – I’m not a complete animal, you understand.) If my demands aren’t met in a reasonable amount of time by Thanksgiving, your sock bites the dust. (In a bad way. A bad, bad way.)

Sock will be hung...

Beheaded...

And dropped into a boiling vat of water.

Hugs and kisses,
The Sock Bandit

(P.S. – Kim, I think I found your favorite sock.)