With all the hustle and bustle of my parents’ visit, I didn’t have time to get Brian a Valentine’s Day card last week. I broke the cardinal rule of romance: ALWAYS get a card. The little-known, second rule of romance is this: ALWAYS fill the card with enough cash to offset the cringe-worthy sappiness of the card.
There was a time in my life when I wasn’t easily embarrassed. I had a one woman show in middle school. I used to perform SNL skits at family reunions. Y’all, I was the ultimate grand supreme winner of the Barksdale Elementary School lunchtime “Turn Your Face the Purplest Contest”—a contest I both invented and won when I passed out into my chicken noodle soup. (Nope. Not even kidding.)
How’s that for resume material?
I had NO shame—but in a good way. Not in the People of Walmart kind of way.
One of my very best friends (a fellow military spouse) and I had a conversation recently about Christmas and how we want our kids to experience this magical time of year. My friend is a fellow Christian who home schools her 4 kids—all of whom are young enough to believe in Santa Claus.
Before I go any further, I have to let you know that this post is a Santa spoiler alert. So, if you have a habit of curling up by the fire and reading my posts aloud to your children, now would be a good time to forgo that routine. Instead, you might want to read them something a bit less scarring.
Back to my story…
As I mentioned to you on Monday’s post, we already partook in one Thanksgiving feast while my parents were here last week. It wasn’t as over-the-top as we’re accustomed to (we had only 6 or 7 side dishes this time), but it was absolutely delicious. Thanks to Brian’s turkey and my mom’s…well, everything else, it was a huge success. A great time was had by all!
Well, almost all.
Update: November 20, 2013
Thank you to everyone who participated! The winners of the gorgeous cookbooks are…
1) gina: “A FULL dish!!! But seriously, I could eat sweet potato casserole until I’m doubled over with a stomach ache–and still manage to eat one more bite! The toasted marshmallows seal the deal for me!”
2) Laura: “My mom’s green beans is a dish that I loved and I didn’t find anything similar at other thanksgivings. Steam them, then combine in sauté pan with crumbled bacon, bit of brown sugar, worcheshire sauce and thinly sliced green onions. I also enjoyed her jello mold…orange jello with peach slices in it on top of a cool whip fluff of some sort. She made it every year just for me.”
Congratulations! Please send an email to email@example.com to claim your prize.
It’s that time again, y’all: time for the 2nd Annual Katy in a Corner Thanksgiveaway! This tradition has lasted almost as long as my most impressive workout streak—so…twice in a row.
Okay, it’s lasted TWICE as long as my most impressive workout streak.
In case you’re wondering why my posts have been pretty infrequent around here, I’m now able to share with you the reason why. I have been working on a story so near and dear to my heart that I have poured all of my free time and energy into it. This is a story so incredible that I flew from Kansas back to Georgia to capture it.
It’s a story about my Grandmother, Geraldine “Gerry” Hinesley, and the man who was her first love.
A story about a letter she wrote and how it arrived 69 years later…
I’ve told y’all before that I’m not a huge fan of over-the-top, Pinterest-worthy birthday parties. For one, we don’t have the money to shell out on crafts supplies that I will purchase and then never complete. Second, our kids don’t eat sugar. At all. And I can’t think of a single kid (or parent for that matter) who would come to a birthday party without cake and ice cream. And, third, I can hardly get up the energy most days to “cook” for my own picky eaters. So, the idea of entertaining a bunch of other people’s picky eaters is pretty overwhelming.
Those of you who know my mom well probably just shook your heads and said, “The apple sure did fall far from the tree.” And you are absolutely right. Really, the apple fell off the tree, and while it was in mid-air, was swept up in a tornado, hit by a truck, and dumped in a field of buffalo manure in Kansas.
[Oh, no. Katy's using metaphors again. Someone call a therapist.]
So, I created this letter for my daughter, and now I’m SOBBING. I can’t even see to type. So, let’s just hope this is relatively free of errors.
I’m sobbing because:
1) our baby girl turns 2 today and
2) I was dumb enough to make a video montage to commemorate it.