Well, friends, I’m back and bedder than ever.
[Typos already. Well, that's what happens when you take two weeks off without writing.]
No, that’s not a typo. It’s an explanation of where I’ve been these past two weeks. Allow me to elaborate…
Brian gave me a Fitbit for Christmas. It’s basically a device I wear on my wrist that tracks my movements (sleep and overall activity level).
First of all, men, I need to inform you that this is an incredibly risky gift for a man to give a woman for Christmas. Particularly if she has struggled with depression.
“Merry Christmas, honey! Here’s a nifty gift that will track how many hours you spend in bed and how stagnant you are even during your few waking moments.”
I just had a flashback to the Christmas where my dad gave my mom running shoes and fluorescent jogging suits. I’ll never forget the look on her face. It’s the look that says, “I know just the perfect place to put this bleepity-bleep-bleep shoe!”
Now that the weather has turned off cold again here in the Great Plains, we have resorted to our usual, indoor play areas around town. Before I had children, I didn’t understand or appreciate the beauty of a place where parents can corral their children like cattle while they sit by the entrance/exit with a cup of coffee and their electronic device of choice. Before I was a mother, those indoor playpens were little more than noisy, filthy Petri dishes that got stuck at the end of the mall near JCPenney and the family bathrooms. Before kids, I avoided these areas like the plague. Now, I RUN to them.
Bring on the E. coli!
We’ve got a bag full of sanitizing wipes to defeat it.
The winner of the gorgeous gloves is…
Judi Miller: “Love my sweaters & boots!!! A free 20 seconds, that’s all I had ”
Congratulations, Judi! Contact firstname.lastname@example.org to claim your prizes.
Fall is in the air (literally) for us here in Kansas, and I got seriously bitten by the fashion bug this weekend.
Leggings and tunics and boot socks, oh my!
I spent the entire day Saturday at a local outlet mall—by myself—
Yeah, I can’t even finish that sentence it’s so beautiful.
By myself. That phrase deserves a sentence all its own. Actually, a whole line…
Yeah, I think it needs caps lock, bold, italics, and an exclamation point.
[Overkill, lady. We get it.]
So, I walked around Legends Outlets in Kansas City…
And though I found some great deals and a few essential items to add to my wardrobe, there was nothing quite as detailed and beautiful as what I’m giving away today!
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.
If you’ve ever seen the film(s) Paranormal Activity, the following post will probably run through your mind as you try to fall back asleep tomorrow at 3 a.m., and you’ll say, “I hate you, Katy in a Corner, for reminding me of this! And, oh great. Now I’m thinking about Katy standing in a corner of my room, and I’m even MORE freaked out!” And I’ll just laugh and laugh because I “saw” Paranormal Activity on my parents’ TV with ten fingers in front of my face, without my glasses on, and singing “LALALALALALA” at the top of my lungs. And the only thing I could tell you about that film is that the painting that hangs on my parents’ wall close to their TV is really beautiful. Why? Because I’m not an idiot, that’s why.
I don’t watch scary movies because I don’t want to be reminded of them every time I have to use the facilities at 4 a.m.
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 email@example.com 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.
There are three things I do far better than most women I know: 1) saving money, 2) homemade recipes, and 3) doing laundry.
Wait, no. What I meant to say is that I do them worse. Worse than most women I know.
Worse than all the women. Everywhere. And men. Also, most children over the age of 4.
Shoot, there are probably a few species of primates that could argue their superiority in those three areas as well. But I’m probably better than most primates at arguing, so it would be a very long, cyclical debate.
With lots of mud-slinging.
I have absolutely no idea where I was going with this.
Wait! Good thing I went ahead and wrote out the title of this post. See how smart that was?
[Yes, I think what we've all learned so far is exactly how smart you are, Katy.]