It’s no secret around here that my dear husband doesn’t have much going on “up top.” He started balding around the same time we started dating back in January of 1999.
[That doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me…]
The poor guy hasn’t seen a full head of hair since we were in college. And, as the years go by and our children continually refuse to potty train, his scalp becomes more and more visible.
Yes, Brian’s hair is seriously thinning.
And, if you say it like Charlie Sheen—“THIN-ning”—it makes him laugh out loud.
I know for certain I successfully made it through 13 years of public school, though there are very few things I actually remember. I could probably only recall a dozen or so specific memories:
1) There was the science teacher who accidentally wrote a 4-letter-word on the board.
That’s a pretty memorable event when you’re in middle school.
2) Then the same teacher made us blow up balloons and make decorations for her dog’s birthday party.
3) And then she sat in front of the entire class on a barstool with her zipper down THE entire day. No one told her.
I still feel bad I never told her.
4) And then there was another teacher—NO! Actually, the same one!—who told us that she was a reincarnated peach tree.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
5) And then there was the boy who kissed me on the mouth (uninvited, thank you) in front of my sex ed teacher. I was MAD. I may have slapped his face.
And that summarizes absolutely everything I learned in middle school.
Oh, but there was one more thing:
6) I performed a weekly, one-woman show.
One of my classes took place in a trailer, and our teacher would go AWOL for hours at a time at least once a week. I now believe that she had some significant problems in her personal life. Honestly, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t also hide under my desk and shoot rubber bands at the students if I taught middle school. (Yes, that actually happened.)
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, ESV)
For everything, a season.
And it seems that our 3-year-old and our almost-2-year-old have joined together to drag us all—kicking and screaming—through the “break down,” “weep,” and “war” seasons of life. Every day feels like a cage match. Every. Single. Day.
As Brian and I sat in our home office yesterday afternoon with our oldest whining about something (probably about the TV) and our little one running around like a screaming banshee, my poor husband attempted to tell me the same sentence a few times—only to lose his concentration (or mine) in the throes of chaos. He finally blurted out, “We need a date night!”
And he was sooooo right.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you guys this, but I have struggled with mild, chronic depression for as long as I can remember.
[Well, crap. That came out of left field. Isn't this supposed to be a humor blog?]
I’ve had lots of different diagnoses—from cyclothymia (mild bipolar disorder) to depression to “that time of the month” (That was once my dad’s formal diagnosis. Once. And then I threatened to kick him in the teeth.). I’ve had lots of suggestions for treatment—from medication to diet to “more exercise” (also from my dear dad).
We have a winner and a consensus:
Sarah: “Definitely Dangly. Gangly is when your arms and legs are long and awkward – to me anyway…” Shoot me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org to redeem your earrings!
And the consensus is that “gangly earrings” is not a thing. They’re dangly. Google is wrong.
Alrighty, it’s giveaway time. And confession time. Don’t worry dad. It’s just a goofy confession about my changing body that not even my closest friends know about me.
Aaaaaaaaaaand we just lost my dad.
[Please tell me she's not about to talk about women's troubles.]
Don’t worry, I’m not talking about women’s troubles. I’m talking about my ears.
[I guess it depends on the woman as to whether or not there's trouble in that department.]
Oh SNAP! But, seriously, cut it out. This is a friendly place.
[Who is Katy always talking to in the brackets? I'm so confused by this blog sometimes.]
So, my ears. They’re just…different. For one, they just don’t work as well as they used to, according to my husband. Whether or not that is a “selective” phenomenon is still up for debate.
“She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
‘Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.’
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”
(Proverbs 31:26-30, ESV)
When the author of the second part of Proverbs 31 “penned” these words, I can only imagine he must have known a woman like this:
Some of you may have picked up on all the hubbub on my Facebook, Twitter and Instagram pages, but Brian and I dashed off to New York City last Saturday for a pretty exciting opportunity. I was selected to join the Google Glass Explorer Program.
Now, In case you are like me and never really know what’s happening until your mom calls to tell you, I’ll give you a quick overview of what that all means:
1) Google invented a wearable computer. It looks like a pair of glasses. They call it Google Glass (or ”GLΛSS” if we’re getting really specific).
2) Google then chose a select number of people to beta test this new technology. These people are called “Explorers.”
3) Google thought, “Who better to wear GLΛSS than a stay-at-home mommy blogger who basically watches cartoons all day and will probably post ridiculous videos of herself using our groundbreaking technology incorrectly?”
Naturally, I was invited to join the Google Glass program.
I believe it was because of all my experience with cartoon explorers—thanks, Dora!
I don’t know if I ever told y’all this, but Katy in a Corner is actually my third blogging venture.
[Wow. So, third time's a…Dirty Dancing parody? That is just sad.]
My first blog (or what I called an online journal at the time) went live in 2003 and was entitled, “Postcards from Leeds.” It chronicled my year abroad as an ambassadorial scholar for the Rotary Foundation. I was a serious professional back when I was 22.
You know what this photo says? “Look out, world. I’ve got French cuffs, and I know how to use them.”