Archive for the ‘Quotable Katie’ Category

Five for Friday.

March 3, 2017

Of course today would be Friday, the easiest day to blog, when I actually feel like myself and want to blog about something. Okay, let’s go with it and hopefully this Can-Do Katie is still here on Monday. (Or, you know, I write a coupla drafts in a few minutes…)

So what do we have shakin’ today? A few things! (Five, in fact, Sarcastic Katie would like you to know.) Ahem.

1. Poor pitiful penguin (that would be Gracie) is home with the stomach bug. It hit her like a truck last night – fine one minute at choir rehearsal, then halfway home she slumped against the door. I thought maybe she was tired from a long day, long week, but she said she didn’t feel good. She helped me move the trash bins back behind the house and then bolted for the bathroom, and that was pretty much the last time I saw her all night. She was still pukey this morning, and I’ve told her I trust her judgement when it comes to school or no school, so my penguin is home, making out with the toilet from the looks of things. [Side note: bet she doesn’t argue with me about cleaning the bathroom next time. Hmph.]

2. Before Gracie got all pukey, she was quite adorable. Yesterday she had a full-scale choir rehearsal for their competition that’s coming up. It’s like nerd Olympics, but for middle school choirs. They’re judged on a song they’ve rehearsed, a song they’re given, and a short bit of sight reading. And it’s all done full tilt – which is why Gracie needed black flats and why she was so adorable making all the arrangements like a little grown-up. First she arranged it so that she and a few friends were walking the two blocks to the high school (it really isn’t far and is a good [though busy] neighborhood, so as long as there’s a herd of them, I don’t mind a middle-of-the-day romp – they have to grow up some time), and then one of her bestie’s mom was going to drive them all (because she did mind about them walking alone), and so all I had to do was pick Gracie up at 6p because her dad was busy. She did that all on her own, made sure she had the shoes, and made sure she brought the shoes to school early enough so her choir teacher could hem her formal black choir smock dress.

3. The dress! It was the dress that killed me, because Gracie hated it. As all choir members do, I believe. I told her how Kim and her choir friends (the Altos, natch) from college had dubbed the dresses the Black Frocks of Doom. Even Pukey Gracie collapsed in appreciative giggles at that. I offered to help her take off the BFOD because it still had pins in it (I had offered to help hem all the dresses when Gracie told me on Tuesday that her choir teacher was doing them all; because hemming sucks, I have a sewing machine, I know what I’m doing, and did I mention I know how much hemming sucks?), but Gracie said her teacher was tape-hemming. So I was a little surprised to see the dress was still pinned, but meh. Whatever. Gracie didn’t want my help anyway – the BFOD was off before I finished offering even. And when I asked her why she did it so fast and casually when there were pins in it!!!, she looked at me like I was nuts. She looked down at it and so I did too and then I noticed the pins were SAFETY PINS. Safety pins!!! What the man! Mum never used safety pins! We got straight pins and you learned pretty dang fast to stand still when Mum was pulling the dress over your head because pins hurt. Safety pins. Pfft. Those kids don’t even know.

4. So with Gracie running between the bathroom and sleep, glorious sleep!, in her bed, I was experiencing some major role reversal at my house last night. Usually Bee is in bed way early, gripping her emergency bucket (Bee’s migraines make her pukey), and Gracie is in the living room, chatting with me and playing Rummy 5000 (we have a constant tally going) while we watch TV and talk about our day. Last night, Bee was my companion, as she sat on the lounge chair, playing a game on her computer, while I ate a late dinner. We were chatting and watching TV and having a good time while she did whatever she was doing with her game, when suddenly I heard: “Sugarfingers!!” I about died laughing. It’s the cutest like fake bad word and Imma steal it.

5. It’s cold! [Here is where my sisters in Connecticut where it’s negative degrees reach through the screen and murder me.] I mean, not freezing, because 39°, but my point is that it was cold enough for me to wear my scarf! I’ve worn it a time or two, but this has been a pretty mild winter, so even though February is usually when we get our ice storms, I haven’t had a chance. This morning? Totally needed it. I thought about changing my shirt so I would match, but I decided I still wanted my orange stripes because they made me happy. And so matchy-people can bite me – it makes me happy, damnit. And it’s gonna be 70° later, so the scarf is temporary anyway.



I hope you all get to do something today that makes YOU happy!

Quote of the Day.

March 1, 2017

The setting: We’ve entered the land of the Gracie being able to wear some of my shoes and some of my smaller tshirts and cardigans – the kind of clothes you can “cheat” on a little. But mostly shoes. To the point that while the girl has her own everyday shoes, there’s no point in paying for a second set of dressy “church” shoes when I have an entire selection in my closet. And so…

Gracie: Mom, I need a pair of black flats for choir on Thursday night.
Me: Okay, let’s go take a look at what I have.
<We walk into my closet. Gracie starts looking at black shoes.>
Gracie: Hey. Half of these are too big, and half of them are too small, and why do you have so many sizes, and WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!
Me: Welcome to the rest of your life.

Heh. Women’s sizing. It’s a trip, kiddo.

Five for Friday.

January 30, 2015

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep.

1. Why? Because there’s this tiny little insignificant game going on this weekend? Maybe you’ve heard of it? AND MY TEAM IS PLAYING!!! Yes, I woke up at an ungodly hour two days before the game because of nerves and excitement. I know I am ridiculous.

2. I am tippy-toeing my own lines today: I snuck in a Patriots t-shirt into my work outfit. Technically today is casual Friday, but I try to keep it classy casual. Not everyone does, but…whatevs. Today? I bent the rules a little so I could support my team. Loyalty is everything.

Pats13. Even my caffeine is cheering for my team! I have been saving this mug all week so I could use it today. And hopefully you guys will all see it again Monday. With an extra shot or two because I stayed up partying. Yes, indeed.

Pats44. And just in case I wasn’t excited enough – or maybe in case I get a case of panic or two, which, let’s face it, is entirely likely as I read article after article about the Legion of Boom – I brought my secret weapon. One of the Christmas gifts my sister Rhi gave me – my own private Patriots Bat-signal.

Pats2Pats3See, it looks like a pen…okay, maybe technically it is a pen. But pffft. I’m not going to actually use it as a pen. Nope. When I get really nervous, or I need our guys to rally, I press the button and the bat signal appears and then maybe I’m all “Na-na na-na na-na na-na, na-na na-na na-na na-na Patriots!” (Yes, I counted out the na-nas. Told you: 4:30 a.m.)

5. Maybe the best way to highlight for you just how nervous and excited and all-around stoked I am is this: Bee-girl, my football holdout, walked into the kitchen this morning after getting dressed and greeted me with a big smile and teasing lilt to her voice: “Just twooooo more days til the Superbowl, Mom!” If my anti-football girl is excited for me because of how excited I am, you know it’s a big deal. That girl doesn’t give two hoots for anything she doesn’t wanna.

This is big.

It will be epic.

And it’s going to take FOREVER before it’s here!

You guys go enjoy your Fridays. I’ll be over here playing with my Patriots Legos and watching the clock.

Quote of the Day: Superbowl Commercial Edition.

February 3, 2014

There were a few catchy ads last night: Ellen’s dancing, the Volkswagon engineers getting their wings, the dad saving all the kids, the Cheerios family was back (YOU ROCK, CHEERIOS!), and the T-Mobile commercial without Tim Tebow that played the song from Disney’s Robin Hood. You know – because they played the song.

But my favorite was Radio Shack declaring the 80s called and they wanted their store back. Awesomeness ensued. (Go peek at it here if you haven’t seen it.)

And then, of course, this happened:

Bee: I want the 80s to come to our house and do that!
Me: Me, too! Then we can lock the door and kidnap them and make them play!
Bee and Gracie:

Something tells me they just liked the hilarious destruction, not the 80s. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Kids just don’t understand.

Creepy bugs vs. deadly slime.

May 9, 2013

You’re heard about the imminent massive cicada invasion, yes? Every 17 years (or so), a giant swarm of cicadas – creepy giant buggies with massive wings and bulging red buggy eyes – descends upon the East Coast to make everyone scream and lie sleepless at night, wondering if that tickle was a bug or just their imagination. And when I say a giant swarm, I am not even kidding. We’re talking massive, massive numbers – people will be outnumbered 600-to-1. Millions and millions of bugs. Apocolyptic-type numbers. Numbers so big, they’re calling the event Brood II. (If that doesn’t have you picturing Mothra as the Wicked Witch cackling over her crystal ball, I don’t know what will.)

For once, I’m glad I don’t live on the East Coast.

Needless to say, Kim is rather squicked out.

Kim: Ew. There is a GIANT “brood” of cicadas getting ready to invade the east coast and i don’t live in a city!
Me: Dude. That is going to suck. But! Excellent photo ops! They don’t mention, however, whether they’ll be gone by August. [When I visit.]
Kim: They do not. National Geographic is going to help us brush up on some facts about cicadas. Hunh. They said that they taste like asparagus or clam-flavored potato, which begs the question: do clam-flavored potatoes taste like asparagus?
Me: Boil ’em, mash ’em, mix ’em with some clams. (But not bugs.)
Kim: Hahahah, that might be the best rendition of that ditty EVAH! Oh great. There are three species, and they all sing at DIFFERENT TIMES. You know, so there’s constnatly some buzz going on. They’ve been recorded to hit 93 decibels, which is louder than an airplane.
Me: That will help you stay up and read [NOS4A2]!!
Kim: I’m not reading creepy shit while we’re infested with creepy crawlies!
Me: THERE ARE NO BUGS! You will feel safer reading that book than you will watching Men In Black. Fact.
Kim: That’s a true fact. Why don’t i remember this from 17 years ago?
Me: I was thinking the same thing.
Kim: Did we not get invaded because it’s a city?? I was 13.
Me: Either it’s not as bad as the media is making it out to be (which, totally possible)…
Kim: So you were 16.
Me: Or, we’re too far north.
Me: Maybe only 30 million.
Kim: there are enough to line up to the moon and back. THREE. TIMES.
Me: Which one?

[Sidebar: There really are two moons. It’s a favorite in-joke since watching that episode of British comedy/quiz show Q.I., but they are not even lying – two moons. And here’s the clip.]

But! The point is that I was feeling all smug and stuff because my sister was going to have cicadas tangled in her hair and crunching underfoot and I wasn’t! Ha haaa! And then she sent me this…

Kim: DON’T let the girls touch any giant snails you find! [With this clip. Because, you know – I am allll about nature and being a cool mom, and, not knowing, I would not only let them touch the deathly meningitis snails, I would make them leashes to catch them as pets.]
Me: Holy shite! We’re being overrun by creepy crawlies! Creepy bugs or deathly slime? NOT the brackets I want!
Kim: At least mine don’t carry deadly brain diseases. Puts these cicadas into perspective (and an Alice in Wonderland-esque perspective, at that).

So there you have it folks. If the blog goes quiet for an extended period of time, maybe send some dudes in HAZMAT suits. Could be face-sucking, brain-eating slugs. Or maybe King Kong and Godzilla have climbed out of the ooze. Surely they’re next.

I am Batman.

January 18, 2013

How I know I have the flu:

  • I spelled flu “flue”
  • It took me ten minutes to wobble and weave my way into the computer room
  • I had a fever of 100.1 this morning – and I usually run at 96/97.
  • I watched Big Bang last night for two hours before bed without laughing (and it’s the really good Season 2 stuff)
  • My skin hurts when you touch it
  • I have no idea how I’m driving myself to the doctor’s at noon when I can barely operate my text thingy
  • I had zero interest in coffee, other than it was warm
  • I made myself a cuppa tea…and while my sisters and my mom will be happy to know that while I did in fact remember the tea bag, well, I sort of forgot to put any water in the cup the first time around
  • And then there’s the all-comforting factor that I sound just like Bee did five days ago
  • I didn’t even care that I had to call and tell the Ex that I had flu and tell him I had the flu and could he bring the signed interrogatories for my deposition to his lawyer…I mean, I really, really hope the Ex doesn’t get the flu, but I didn’t feel like a kid getting called to the principal’s office when I called. Or, um, something.
  • I can’t focus enough to read my book
  • I do, however, have a desire to read comfort books like Homecoming or Mrs. Mike or a good ol’ Stephen King. Crap. Except maybe not The Stand.

How I know I’m not dying yet:

  • I felt bad about calling out sick even know work would take one look at me and not let me out of my car
  • (Golly, there were more point here a second ago)
  • I was still annoyed at my sisters for not answering my texts >:-(  (That katie-face took a lot of energy, you guys.)
  • I still made a list of recommendations for my sisters per Kim’s suggestion to keep myself entertained yesterday
  • I thought that since when Bee was diagnosed on Monday and I thought that a manageable flu-bug was a fair-trade for the Patriots win on Sunday (I know: I’m a bad mama going to hell), it would be okay with me if me having the flu means the Pats win on this Sunday.
  • I remembered the code for that little degree mark down there. See?

And this is me with just a 100° temp. Imagine while I’ll be like if mine gets to 102 like Bee’s? Because I’m still kinda lucid but not really in a helpful way. Like, I have a funny taste in my mouth. And I wonder if that’s what Sheldon felt like after Walowitz put his mom’s Valium in Sheldon’s milk. And then I wonder if this is what Marika felt like when her fever made her all woo-woo when she have The Fevers in White Mary.

In closing: you guys better check in on me later or I’m going to be a very disappointed muppet. In real life. Okay: semi-real life. Because whoa.


Sure, let’s add bobcats. Why not?

June 18, 2012

Last week, just long enough after our victorious return to Casa de Katie (and my kingdoms thereof) that I had fully debriefed my friend Corrie and told her, amongst other things, silly stories about deer calls, Corrie dashed off on a quick business trip to – where else? – the back woods of Connecticut. And so, just as I was writing to you about our deer-related adventures, I received this text message from my partner in crime:

Corrie: Keep seeing deer crossing signs and thinking about your [really, she meant Rhi’s] crazy deer mating call.

Me: Ha! Lots of the deer crossing signs in Kim’sTinyTown have snowflakes or Rudolph noses of them.

Corrie: Now I feel a little gypped. No Rudolphs for me.

Me: Make one! Grab from red duct tape, cut a circle and slap it on! <Secretly thinking about the revolution we could start.>

Corrie: That would take effort: find red duct tape, scissors… I’d have to off-road in heels. It would be my luck I’d be mauled by a wild chipmunk.

Me: Or the bobcat Kim saw last week. But what a great blog post it would make for me!

[In real life. The bobcat came out of the wicked long grass in a field near her house that Iswearlooks like the long grass the raptors infested in Jurassic Park 2.]

Corrie: I can see it now… “My friend was killed in a vicious bobcat attack while attempting (in heels and business dress) to attach a red nose to a CT highway deer crossing sign. What a doofus!”

Me: I was thinking more of a highly amusing pic of you clinging to the top of the sign, reindeer nose hilariously affixed to your forehead, while you awaited rescue and the kitty waited below.

Corrie: That would be pretty funny!! You’re giving me too much credit, though – you really think I could climb up a road sign???

Me: While facing a bobcat? Yes, indeedy. The problem would be teaching it to take the picture.

Corrie: I can see how that might be tricky.


We’re something else, aren’t we? I’d like to reassure you all that not only did the two of us survive wit and humor before 7:30 a.m., but Corrie also survived the backwoods of Connecticut with nary a scratch on her (or her heels). I even dragged her and the fam to have Irish Nachos yesterday just to be sure. Sorry, bobcats – maybe you could put all that DSLR practice to use next time?

Tales from Vacationland: Oh, dear.

June 15, 2012

As it turns out, rural Connecticut has a lot of deer roaming about. My sisters have told me this, and I believed them – to a point – but I’ve been to Connecticut before and though they’ve sworn these deer are as thick as thieves, I’ve seen nary a one.

Until last week.

First we saw this guy munching alone in a field:

The girls were pretty excited, so we doubled back so they could get a better look (gotta love not having any traffic in the sticks), and then Auntie Rhi started telling them about how to call the deer.

Yes, indeed.

Apparently during mating season “friendly deer time”, deer make this god-awful loud moose-like noise. Ask Rhi – she demonstrated over and over and over and over. Once I stopped laughing so hard I was afraid I would wet the seat of Kim’s car, I started puzzling over how exactly I would type that out come the inevitable blog entry. AHHHH-unnnnnnnh! Except it has to be really low-pitched, with your jaw jutting out and really…um…”special” sounding. Like maybe a deer was the dumbest deer in the history of the world and limbs are flailing all herky-jerky and, if we’re being really insensitive, maybe a short bus is involved.

AHHHHH-unnnnnh! went Auntie Rhi and Gracie from the back seat. Kim and I were laughing so hard I could barely breathe, although I somehow found enough breath to yell “MAILBOX!” and Kim found the brakes just before the car crawled too far off the road. We were barely moving, we were laughing so hard, but cars like to drift when no one is watching the road.

No who was watching us, though? This dude:

The deer call had worked so well that this deer was staring at us, like we were all sped cases, which, really, we kind of sounded like. AHHHH-unnnnnnh! I can just hear the deer: What kind of retarded idiots are they and what the bloody hell are they doing? I swear he was slack-jawed, paused in his nibbling to wonder at our “specialness.”

So, yes Virginia – Connecticut does in fact have deer. Now we just need to puzzle out the bobcat that Auntie Kim swore she saw emerge from the raptor grass and cross the road in front of her car the other day.

Everything she every really needed to know, I learned from The Princess Bride.

February 22, 2012

For today’s entertainment (while I am off taking my 2nd grader to the orthodontist), I offer you a chat I had with my baby sister yesterday. Either I am easily amused, or else we are some seriously funny ladies in dire need of a laugh.

Me: That is what THE CAT IS FOR!
Rhi: He had been guarding the fridge and then I heard some scrappy noises so I got a flashlight and he’s a BIIIIG mouse! Me: Sure it’s not a rat?
Rhi: It’s light colored….not dark grey…  I didn’t see its tail.
Me: The tail will do it, not so much the color. Wasn’t Scabbers light colored?

[Yes, I used a fictional rat from Harry Potter as a reference. Deal.]

 Rhi: Maybe its a wild gerbil?
 No, greyish. [She said, correcting me about Scabbers.]
lmao “fancy rats are social”
 Me: Why didn’t you google rat vs. mouse?
[Seeing “fancy rats are social”…] And attend only parties with sparkling water?
Rhi: Damn it, we don’t have sparkling water.
Me: You should put cheese in the middle of the floor. Hold Friedrich [the cat]. And when the mouse comes out, DROP him on the MOUSE!
  (said in my best crazy Sicilian.)
Rhi: lmao!
I feel like I needs a stick or sword or something long and pokey.
Me: So you can scare the mouse back into a crack in the wall where he can make more mouses?
 Or do you want to sweep him out towards the gaping mouth of the cat?
 Rhi: I just don’t want to skitter over my feet!!!
Me: Then go sit down and put your feet up. duh
Rhi: I have to do dishes ahhhh =0[
Me: Remember that story when there was a mouse and Gram was on top of a chair, screaming?
  You are Gram.
Rhi: I didn’t scream!…yet.
Perhaps I wash the knives first….
Me: The mouse won’t go near Friedrich. Obviously, you just need to tie Friedrich to one of your ankles.
Rhi: He wont leave the fridge.
Okay, so to tell if it’s a rat or mouse, I have to check its ears. Mice have HUUUGE ears and rats have little ones…cuz they dont care if you scream – they’ll eat your toes anyways.
Me: I think you are maybe confusing the rat/mouse with your ROUSes.
  And if you had’ve just listened to me when I told you to ARM YOURSELVES!, you could have just shot the mouse.
  (And then sorted out the bit about the ears.)
 Rhi: Shoot first, check ears later. Got it.
Me: According to the Web site you sent me, there are rat shelters.  Perhaps you should call them to see if they’re missing any rats.
Rhi: lol
It’s a rat. It’s in the corner and there’s a long skinny tail.
How do we fix this? Obviously this is my fault cuz I don’t clean enough, but do we just set traps or call exterminator?
Me: How long is the tail? Are you sure it isn’t a mouse tail?
Rhi: Googling. Oh god no! google! I don’t want to measure the rodent’s blood pressure!
Me: HAHAHA Did you find the blood pressure cut off thingie too?
Can you take a pic of it?
Uh-oh. Kim saw my status.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have started with “You’re pretty!”
Dude. I totally had her on the ropes until you told her there was a mouse. lol
Are you still alive?
Did it EAT YOU?
Rhi: Ahhh! It’s not where I last saw it!
Me: <eyes narrowing> How much sleep did you get last night?
Rhi: I let myself sleep in until Kim left.
Ohhh is it on my baaaack like in movies?!
Me: Well, back it into a boulder!
This is where Rhi kinda went scary silent and I started filling in Kim. After advising that tying Friedrich (who is the fattest cat you’ve ever seen) onto Rhi’s ankle would only result in Friedrick upending Rhi HomeAlone-style when he dashed after the mouse, Kim had to leave to prep for her class.
“Warn them about the gerbils,” I said. You never know.

Maybe I should go back to bed…

June 6, 2011

I was driving down the road, grumbling – or, I would have been grumbling if it didn’t take so much energy to actually grumble, out loud – and regretting the last two glasses of wine I’d had the night before. I was thinking about changing lanes because the car-like thing in front of me couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted to be a speed demon or a slow poke and there was just too much thinking involved in staying behind the guy.

So, anyway, I look over at the car I’m thinking about pulling in behind and I swear to goodness, it said it was a Nissan Morgue. And I thought, God, that’s kind of morose [because I am the person who can be half asleep and still use words like ‘morose’],naming a car after death and all…Hey. Wait. That’s not really what it says. Huh. It’s really a Rogue. Well. That makes more sense.

That’s when I decided I should maybe go back to bed for awhile. Because even if that “R” was an “M”, it still would only have said “Mogue.” And how much sense does that make? Hi, I drive a Nissan Mogue.

Viva la Monday, baby. Hope yours is starting out better than mine.