Crazy Aunt Katy

Thursday food for thought.

2010-07-01T12:48:00.003-05:00

I'm pretty sure Satan would be satisfied with millions of Christians saying they believe the Gospel so long as they're content by being nominal at best, remaining safely in their suburban bubble and never getting a wild hair to pound the pavement for Jesus.

In need of a bird guru.

2010-06-22T10:03:00.003-05:00

My desk at work is situated in a large floor to almost-ceiling window so I have a lovely view of the neighborhood and landscaping right outside our office. A couple months ago, my boss came down the hall and said she had a mockingbird nesting in a tree just outside her window, which is two windows down from mine. Eventually, the eggs began to hatch, and we all enjoyed the sight of the young birds learning to hop around the parking lot and take short little flights from the tree to the ground and back up.

It's two months later, and another mockingbird has become a part of my life. Only this one is not so cute. Each night, I go to sleep dreading the middle of the night. And each night, between 3 and 5 a.m., I wake up to the incessant chirping of the mockingbird. It sits on the gutter atop my balcony which is situated right outside my bedroom window and warbles for hours on end. Needless to say, there's no escape. Seeing as we have only one bedroom, there's no place else to go sleep. So, I've been going outside on the balcony to scare it away when it begins its song and wakes me up. For a couple days, this method worked. I could walk out on the balcony and that would sufficiently scare the bird who would relocate to another rooftop. Now, merely walking outside doesn't seem to do the trick. That bird is not going anywhere.

The Internet has failed me. I've found no surefire way to get rid of mockingbirds, and I've read that they return to the same spots year after year. So, unless I figure out a solution, I can look forward to this annoyance next year. I've tried ear plugs, but as I seem to be really good at removing them in my sleep, I still wake up when the bird begins its nightly routine. I don't really like sleeping in ear plugs, either, because I'm nervous something will happen in the middle of the night and I won't wake up. What is my house catches fire and I don't hear the fire alarm? What if someone breaks into our house and I don't hear the intruder? And more importantly, if I'm so good at removing my ear plugs during the night, how am I suppose to get some freaking sleep?

My favorite part of all this is that in searching the Internet for the solution to this problem, I find a ton of people who say I should enjoy the music and relax and be kind to animals and not hurt it because OMG animals! They are so cute! And to those folks I say, eff you. I am tired. I work hard. I deserve some freaking sleep. I like animals, and I enjoy the great outdoors. But this isn't about whether or not I have a fondness for our feathered friends. It's about getting some sleep.

So. Anyone have any tips for how to get rid of this nuisance?

Current challenge: Chaneling Julia Child in the middle of the wilderness

2010-06-15T16:47:00.003-05:00

My husband Brandon and I have scheduled a family camping trip. I'll refrain from saying when since this is still the Internet, after all. But, we're going, and it shall be fun. It's the only sort of vacation we can afford right now. Thankfully, other than a repeat of our honeymoon to Washington, D.C., it's also the only sort of vacation we're all that interested in at the moment. So, it's a win.

When I was in the eighth grade, my family took a camping trip to the Carson National Forest near Taos, N.M. We rented a day glow blue Chevrolet Astro van and drove to Tucumcari, N.M. where we spent the night so we wouldn't have to set up our tent in the dark. The next morning, we drove the rest of the way to the forest. My father had to bribe my mother to go camping in the forest where the bears are. He bought her an overpriced sterling silver storyteller bracelet from an Arab shopkeeper in Santa Fe as her consolation prize for being a trooper and sleeping outside on the ground. In a few short days, she was converted and has since then longed for the cool of that mountain forest when the God-awful Texas temperature soars to 100 degrees in August. She's like that. She didn't want the family dog either, but he turned out to be "her" baby in the end.

The day time high temperatures in those mountains were in the 70s. At night, the temperature would drop to the 40s. In short, the weather made it the perfect place to escape from the suffocating heat of Dallas in the summer time.

Ever since that camping trip, I've wanted to go back to that camp ground. My family got to revisit the next year on a trip we took to see my grandmother in Albuquerque, but we didn't get to camp that time. I believe we just took a day trip with my grandmother, Suze, a few days after my grandfather, Pa's, funeral.

Ever since Brandon and I met, I have wanted to take him to that place and start a new family tradition. One of the first gifts Brandon ever gave me was a North Face 0-degree sleeping bag we found on mega clearance at REI. (Side note: don't judge me for owning a North Face bag. Also, please see "mega clearance.")

For our anniversary in October, we bought a Mountain Hardware five-man, three-season tent. It's an extremely nice tent, and we got it for half price. It packs down to about five pounds, which is nothing at all. It's not meant for backpacking, but it could be used for backpacking if necessary. This is new territory for the girl who had previously camped only in a Coleman two-room tent from Wal-mart.

We took the new tent on an excursion to Turner Falls Park in Oklahoma for our anniversary weekend camping trip (otherwise known as "The Camping Trip from Hell"), the one where our spare tire fell off the bottom of our SUV and hit the 18-wheeler behind us...the one where it rained all night long...the one where the park was overrun by a convention of the Brothers of the Third Wheel (kind of like bikers but with three-wheelers instead of Harleys). In short, it's time for us to redeem the idea of camping since the last attempt ended with us drinking Spaten Oktoberfest in our tent and muttering about how we should have stayed home.

So, we're going camping. Which brings me to the point of my post. I have cooked exactly three things outside: hot dogs, marshmallows, T-bone steaks. The T-bone steaks were overcooked because I was afraid we would get sick from eating raw meat and would have no available facilities other than the bright turquoise port-a-potties at Turner Falls. And just...no thanks.

I'm searching for some recipes. I like to cook. And I tell myself I have somewhat inherited my mother's cooking genes. But what I shall cook in the wilderness with nary a proper knife or a citrus zester in sight I do not know. If you have suggestions of things I could make (and proper instructions on how to cook them on a contraption like this) please let me know.

Some useful information:

1) We will not actually be in the back country wilderness. We'll be car camping and will have access to clean water. There are a couple of fresh water spigots within the campground.
2) We have a couple pieces of cast iron cookware we can bring with us if necessary.
3) I'm really scared of attracting bears, so anything that smells too enticing is probably a no-go. I guess truffle oil is out.

Manners are of first importance.

2010-06-11T11:19:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I visited a stunning restaurant here in my hometown of Dallas. It is connected to a hotel, the only five star, five diamond rated hotel in the state of Texas. And the restaurant boasts the most gracious appointments and experience. Entrees are American with French influences. They use multiple forks and knives. The table is set with actual silverware.

Each member of the staff is courteous and diplomatic. No one was intrusive in the conversations flowing around the table. Being asked if you would care for a refill on your coffee consists of a server moving quietly around the table offering the carafe subtly so that all you must do is shake or nod your head.

I was invited to a breakfast at which all the guests were served fruit and sweet bread and Eggs Benedict, but I am certain that had each of the 25 or so guests ordered a different meal, the food would have been set before us by a server who remembered what we ordered. There would surely have been none of this "auctioning off" of the food that is so common in most casual dining establishments these days.

And you do get what you pay for. I was an invited guest, so I did not have to pay for the meal. Truth be told, unless I was invited, there are certain to be few occasions, if any, that would warrant my patronage at such an establishment. I can't afford to eat there. I'm certain that dining at such an establishment means that one can expect a higher level of service than one gets at, say, Chili's or Outback or the Olive Garden. I'm not knocking the big box restaurants. I'm just saying superb service of this particular caliber is not where they make their money.

So, where am I going with this?

The morning's breakfast was an appreciation breakfast for non-profit professionals, hosted by two members of the local media. For the entertainment, an Emily-Post-meets-Erma-Bombeck etiquette consultant spoke and shared some of her war stories and tips she's learned from working as an etiquette consultant for so many years.

Of course, my thoughts were rushing around during her speech. I knew I needed to write thank you notes to the people who hosted the event and bought my beautiful breakfast. I needed to thank the man who kindly offered his extra ballet tickets for a performance this weekend. I needed to thank the woman who spoke for her wonderful insights on the downfall of civility.

I am not always the most diplomatic individual, but, oh! How I want to be that sort of person!

I mentally hemmed and hawed back and forth, trying to decide an appropriate way to thank these people. A note of thanks seemed so trite for the gracious breakfast and the ballet tickets. I had several friends say that a thank you note was sufficient. Some seemed to think my initial idea of sending homemade baked goods was over the top and unnecessary. But it seemed to me that in such situations, showing appreciation is simple.

You don't do the minimum. You go out of your way. You show genuine appreciation. You let the person know that their kindness was unexpected and appreciated and unusual in this fast-paced, increasingly casual world we live in...the one where engaged couples actually print things like wedding registry locations or cash and gift card requests on wedding invitations but then forget to send a note of thanks for the gift card I sent.

So, with respect to yesterday's hosts, some will receive thank you notes only. A couple will receive homemade chocolate chip cookies. And I'm confident that this course of action is entirely appropriate and will be appreciated. And if it isn't, well, the only thing worse than not showing gratitude for kindness and consideration is judging another person for the way they choose to express their appreciation.

Anybody out there?

2010-05-20T11:48:00.003-05:00

Hey.

So, today I had the sudden urge to write a blog post.

I have another blog out there somewhere but it's not properly formatted because I don't understand Wordpress so I'm not ready to tell you about it. In the meantime, I thought I would log on to my old blog and tell you about a realization I had last night: I am over working for newspapers.

I had this realization because I learned that the Dallas Morning News has a reporter position open. And I have the right amount of experience (probably more than enough) and OMG for the first time in my life I am so stinkin' glad I don't work for a newspaper anymore. Yes!

Also, I had to go to my old office (except it's former employer's NEW office) downtown to pick up a newspaper in which the organization I now work for was featured. And it looks like Ikea threw up in that new office. And I am so not cool enough to work there nor was I ever.

So, life is good. And somehow I figured out that journalism is kind of over for me. And now I'm doing something else. And it's perfect.

Wonder if ANYone will read this.

What a year for a new year

2008-12-31T12:44:00.006-06:00

I know it's totally cheesy to post about the past year on New Year's Eve, but I can't help it. I'm in reflection mood, and this has been the most important year of my life.

In 2008, I fed homeless people every week, decided I loved the man who would become my husband, got engaged, planned a wedding, moved out of my parents' house for good, moved in with my friend Jen again, moved out again, moved in with my future in-laws, stressed out about the wedding, moved furniture across town, bought a long white dress, changed the wedding venue, stressed out about money, wrote more stories than I can count about golf nets on residential property, moved more furniture, loved my coworkers, gotten married, cried the whole wedding, went to Washington, D.C., moved more furniture, made it a home, gotten laid off, started my own company, gotten a Twitter account, landed a new job, promoted two clients to the media, and laughed and cried more than in any other year.

Yesterday, Brandon got a phone call from the person in charge of hiring at a title company owned by one of his parents' neighbors. He and I had submitted our resumes not too long ago for some temporary work. Brandon is still looking for that just right spot for him, and I'm still hopeful about my little PR project. But, those things take time. Anyway, the title company called Brandon and asked if both of us could come in today, Wednesday, to interview. We went in at 9 a.m. and interviewed together with the hiring manager and the president of the company. They offered both of us jobs on the spot. We start Friday. And we get to work together in an office approximately five minutes from our condo. God is good.

Happy New Year. Happy life.

Lessons learned so far

2008-12-16T16:08:00.003-06:00

I've been wanting to post something on the ol' blog for the past few days but have honestly been unable to figure out what to write about. I went back to early 2007 in my archive to see what I was writing about then and compared it to what I've been writing about lately. The results were interesting. In early 2007, I was going through some crap with Jesus, which basically means he was beating some bloody cynicism out of me with one chink of the chisel at every turn.

Lately? I've been writing about politics. It seems it's all I feel compelled to share my opinions about. I'm sorry about that. I have very strong opinions about what government should or should not do. But, the freeing thing is that I wholeheartedly believe government will absolutely not and can't possibly solve any of our problems. (Hence my main reason for believing government should do as little interfering in our everyday lives as possible.)

This week, I've been thinking about marriage. I've been in it for a little more than two months now. Weird, huh? So far, here are a few of my impressions:

1) Marriage is about love but it is also about laundry. To be precise, it is about doing approximately three times the usual amount of laundry and cleaning out the lint tray of a whole bunch of fuzz just about every single damn day.

2) Expect the unexpected. Less than two months after Brandon and I got married, I lost my job. I don't think either of us expected that, which is one reason why it is so deeply satisfying that we eat at home all the time and are so cheap that we won't even buy pre-grated cheddar cheese. We buy a two-pound brick of cheese at Costco and use it for everything (slices of cheese on sandwiches, grated cheese for tacos or enchiladas, baked potatoes, whatever). While neither of us has big kid jobs right now, we're thankfully not hurting too badly. (Tip of the hat to Dave Ramsey and Mary Hunt for instilling the need to save and pay off debt.)

3) It turns out I am lactose intolerant. This means that when I eat the aforementioned cheese or drink milk or consume any dairy product, I have the absolute worst gas of my life. Prior to tying the knot, I think many would take great pains to ensure the other person did not know that girls also experience flatulence. We sure did. Now that we have one bathroom and are sharing a bed, it's amazing the things we have learned about each other. In my case, that basically means I had more gas for the first two months of marriage than any man ever. I did not know I was lactose intolerant until I eliminated dairy from my diet for a couple days and then reintegrated it to see how my system would react. One would think the digestive issues of the man in the relationship would be the ones to come to light in those early days of marriage. In my case, the reverse was true. Apparently, one's system can just sort of turn lactose intolerant at any point in life and it often happens during the 20s decade.

4) Christmas is not about presents, but it still hurts when you can't buy what you want for your husband. My entire life, Christmas has been the hardest time of year for my family. It's the time when job losses and financial woes stink the absolute most. I had decided in September that I wanted to get Brandon a Mountain Hardwear Monkey Man fleece jacket for Christmas. He bought me the Mountain Hardwear P5 fleece for my birthday (am outdoor girl, yez?) and mentioned offhandedly that the ultimate men's fleece jacket happens to be the Monkey Man. I would never wear a Monkey Man in my life because it is weird and furry, but I knew I would be the ultimate wife if I got it for him and especially if I got a great deal on it. Neither of those things happened because I lost my job and because I haven't been able to find a Monkey Man for less than $90. But, you know what? Life is so good here that proper Christmas presents seem sort of meaningless, especially since I know what my husband would really like right now is for me to make him some chili to warm him up on this icy day in Dallas. And you know what? This year for Christmas, we're thankful for our place in the world, a small condo in Plano, in which discovering these earliest idiosyncrasies of married life has been the surprise of my life.

Delighted, I'm sure

2008-12-08T15:36:00.005-06:00

Sorry for the delay, friends. Life has been, you know, busy. But, I've come crawling out of the woodwork to comment lightly on a news story I read this afternoon.

Here's the link. The gist is that uber liberals are dismayed and a little disappointed at President-elect Barack Obama's choices so far.

He's appointed Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, who voted FOR the war in Iraq, as secretary of state and President George W. Bush's second defense secretary Robert Gates (a far better choice than Dubya's first, Donald Rumsfeld, IMHO) as his own secretary of defense. The liberals are mad that Obama seems to be stiffing them on those dear positions. A Dubya era conservative will continue on in his current role overseeing the department of defense, and Obama seems to be hedging his position on the draw down in Iraq. He has even backed away from his promise to immediately repeal the Bush tax cuts for those earning more than $250,000 per year -- he now says he may just let those tax cuts expire as planned in 2010. On Iraq, he says he's trying to make sure U.S. interests are not threatened by any resurgence of violence.

Um, two things:

1) When a new candidate is elected, the transition to power begins almost immediately. Obama received his first in-depth national security briefing the Friday after the election. I don't particularly like the idea that those in power know a whole lot more than we do and therefore should be trusted to make informed decisions. Seems to smack of the military industrial complex. But, dear liberal friends, maybe Obama now knows a helluva lot more than he knew before Nov. 7. I'm not making excuses for Dubya, but it seems really easy to criticize our leaders and their choices when one (ahem, yes, I'm looking at you blogosphere) doesn't have a friggen' clue what national security issues we face. Obama's recent actions (and subsequent liberal dismay) have me wondering what he has learned so far.

2) I absolutely loved the left's reaction to the passage of proposition eight in California. When their guy won the race for the White House, their response was, "The people have spoken. Let's all get to work. If you don't like it, get over it." When their liberal agenda failed on the ballot in California, the response was "Why do you hate gay people, California?" I don't particularly like proposition eight, but a vote is a vote is a vote. As those liberals say, "the people have spoken." My mother-in-law, a staunch conservative if there ever was one, fervently prays for our leaders, whether or not they fall in line with the GOP. Her question was, "OK, guys, you might not like the results of the California vote, but if your mantra on Obama was that "the people have spoken," why can't you accept the results in California and move on?" She'll be praying for Obama the same way she prays for Dubya and has moved the heck on from the election. With a more centrist executive branch, as Obama seems to lean toward, more stuff might actually get done. Oh, my hell! Perish the thought that in Washington, there might actually be some movement.

Anyway, I'll step back into obscurity now. Time for some hot chocolate.

A difficult day

2008-11-17T17:20:00.003-06:00

I was officially laid off today. It's new territory for me, as I've never really been sure of what it felt like to be laid off. But, today, it happened.

It came as somewhat of a surprise because I am the longest tenured reporter. However, the papers the company is keeping have had a lot of turnover this past year and the managers said they wanted to keep SOME consistency there.

Anyway, so this is what getting laid off feels like? Weird. I guess I was due. Lots of my journalism brethren have been feeling the pinch for a lot longer than I.

Anyway. The good news? I'm officially on board as a PR practitioner for Real News PR, a journalists only PR agency here in Dallas. And, whatever. I mean, journalism as we know it? It's nearly over. I'll keep writing, but no one will have the luxury of being a purist anymore. From now on, it's every man for himself.

Praying for politicians

2008-11-05T18:08:00.003-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, husband Brandon and I had a fairly interesting conversation about prayer. Specifically prayer for leaders. You know how when you're in church, you ALWAYS hear pastors praying for Dubya? Well, I don't remember anyone praying for Bill Clinton. Why is that? Is it my imagination or is it just easier for evangelical Christians to pray for someone they agree with? Anyway.

Also, there's this. Obama is going to pay for my gas and my mortgage!

Working from home or hardly working

2008-11-04T15:51:00.003-06:00

Today is day 1.5 of the new experiment in the employment of Katy: working from home. I say day 1.5 because on Monday, I went to the office for a few hours to turn in a couple things for this Friday's paper and gather up some stuff to help me do my job here at home.

So, today, Tuesday, I've been working from home. This means that for the first time in maybe a year I was in my little desk chair at 9:15 a.m. I usually manage to roll into my office (WHICH IS 30 MINUTES FROM MY HOUSE IF THERE'S NO TRAFFIC) at about 10 a.m. Shut UP. It's really hard to wake up at 7:30 a.m., hit my snooze button for an hour, and then drag my ass into the shower to make it to work at all. The idea that I could get up at 8 a.m., take my shower and get ready, and then be in my office down the hall at 9:15 a.m. worked out quite well for me, thanks.

I've actually been productive today. I called some people and did some interviews. I went to a couple of polling places to interview people holding signs and listened to them talk about how they're scared of Barack Obama. I have yet to find any people holding signs who are not scared of Barack Obama, but that's probably because my coverage area is West Plano, Collin County, Texas, thanks. In a little while, I'm going to head out to a couple of election night watch parties to chat with local voters about their election experiences. And, anyway, it's just been a good day.

So, did you vote? Because if you didn't, I want you to know that you don't have to.

May as well write in Elmo

2008-10-30T12:27:00.006-05:00

I voted today. I don't know how many elections I've voted in now, but I think it is somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen since it's been eight years since I've been legally allowed to vote and I vote in just about every election, even the May general election, which usually just includes ballot referendums such as levying a one-cent sales tax to pay for a bond, etc., etc. And I like educating myself on just what the bonds will pay for and amusing myself with the fact that a lot of people my age vote in presidential elections only and don't bother to educate themselves on saying no to say yes to the Trinity referendum, etc.

Anyway, I voted. And I've never been so thrilled to not vote for someone in the two party system bwahahahahahahahaha. All I have to say is $700 billion my ass. After mulling it over one dollar at a time (which is to say, 700 billion times), your humble blogger got realll annoyed with both of the major presidential candidates, decided to continue forward with her plan to vote for the lesser of two evils, and then changed her mind again to vote for neither candidate and just write in Big Bird for president because that's about how much I like our options right now. (P.S. I really miss John McCain's "Straight Talk Express" days.)

And then I got realll annoyed that if you don't vote it's like you're a bad American and a baby-killer and our founding fathers died for our country etc. And I got realll annoyed with the idea that educating yourself and deciding NOT to vote is in no way considered an expression of your opinion by the public at large. But, as much as I did not want to vote for anyone in the two party system, I figured I ought to vote for the congressional folks and senators and such.

Anyway, there was a point to this post and I promise I didn't intend to just go on and on ranting for paragraphs. My point was 1) if you don't feel you can vote your conscience, don't vote against it; and 2) if you do decide you can, in good conscience, cast a vote, consider political philosophy rather than simply a few key issues. What I mean by that is: ask yourself what you feel government ought to do by its very definition and then vote according to that philosophy rather than just voting against the guy who supports abortion or for the guy who supports lower taxes. I think I've got a pretty clear idea of the governing philosophy's of John McCain and Barack Obama, so I voted with those in mind.

(Which is to say I voted for neither of them. Which was pretty much a direct result of the aforementioned $700 billion handout tantamount to corporate welfare/a big wet sloppy kiss from the federal government. Which is different than I originally intended to do because I really do like John McCain because war heroes and veterans just get to me.)

In 2005, there was a referendum on the Texas ballot to define marriage as between a man and a woman and to effectively make same-sex marriages illegal. I was working at the Trib at the time, and people had these really strong opinions about how if gay people get married it somehow invalidates straight peoples' marriages blah blah blah. I voted against it, but it passed anyway, since Texas is the conservative bastion that it is. I thought about it this morning on my way to my polling place and I remembered that at the time of the 2005 election, there were a lot of other contributing factors that had me all bothered about whether or not such an amendment should be part of the state's constitution. And then there was the whole issue of how it's a big deal to alter the constitution. Ya know? Anyway, I voted against it and was really struck by how strongly I still feel about it, even today. No matter what you believe about gay marriage, the idea that it should be the state's job to define something as spiritual and private as marriage is almost ludicrous.

So, if you do vote, at least think about more than just who likes the environment more and who wants to drilbabydrill and whose vice presidential pick you don't like.

It's his birthday, so it doesn't seem fair

2008-10-20T14:25:00.004-05:00

We are officially moved in. Yesterday, we woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 a.m. (on a Sunday OMG) and drove to meet the movers at the storage building. They packed all the contents of Brandon's and my storage unit plus the furniture we'd kept in my in-laws' storage unit. From there, we drove to my in-laws' house to pick up more stuff, then finally went to the condo and had everything unloaded by 11 a.m.

Well, I should say, the movers had everything unloaded by 11 a.m. As for Brandon and I? There are still storage totes and boxes everywhere. We spent Sunday unpacking, and today, on his birthday, Brandon is unpacking more crap and attempting to stretch our limited amount of storage space to fit in all those wedding gifts.

And we've already had a few early marriage type incidents. For example, yesterday, I wanted to put some pine cones from the craft store into a vase I'd used at the wedding. The vase already contained a pink candle and some of those shiny marble things. So, I figured I'd pour the marbles into a plastic baggy and save it for the next special occasion (like sister Carole's lingerie shower in January!). Anytime I pour something into a baggy, I generally stand over the sink to do it so whatever it is won't get all over the place. Of course, marbles aren't food, so when one accidentally goes in the drain, your husband has to break out the pliers to reach down in to the sink to remove the marble. And nobody move because if anyone breathes he will lose his grip on the marble OMG. Thanks husband.

Brandon has been having a slightly difficult time with our available space because of his very tall stature. He is 6'4" tall. Our bathroom has a dropped ceiling, at 7' tall. So, Brandon getting undressed to take a shower in the bathroom=smacking his hands on the ceiling.

Walking down the hallway also is problematic. The person who lived here before us thought it would be a good idea to install a porch light type fixture where the hall light mount goes. So, while it doesn't bother me because I'm short, Brandon has already smacked his head on it.

As the title of this post mentions, it's his birthday so it doesn't seem fair that he is unpacking a million boxes and smacking his head on light fixtures.

We spent our first night in our new place last night, which for me brought mixed feelings. On the one hand, I'm really happy we are finally on our own. On the other hand, I'm now paranoid about people who like to poop in trash cans in other peoples' houses. Not a good feeling. There is a guy who has been skulking around the neighborhood the past two days that we've been there. He came up to Kathy (mother-in-law) and Brandon yesterday while I was somewhere else and started asking a bunch of questions about the break-in, the police, etc., and he volunteered that he used to live in the complex but is moving to California and staying in a hotel in Dallas in the meantime. Which, if it's true, why is he just hanging around in our neighborhood. Go away Creepo. And I've never been afraid of strangers or burglars or anything. I figure you just have to be careful and aware and know your neighbors and all that. And now I'm aware and trying to get to know my neighbors but not just because they are nice people but also because I'm secretly wondering if one of them pooped in a trash can in my house.

I'm hopeful that once the place is organized and tidy, I'll feel better. At least I won't feel there are a million places to hide (like behind storage totes and haphazardly arranged furniture) once things are in their proper places. Pictures to come when things are in place.

Happy Birthday Brandon!

Crazy Aunt Katy gets hitched

2008-10-16T14:41:00.000-05:00

We did it. We got married. Today is day four back in the office. I spent the first day or two back ever so productively perusing the Facebook photo albums of the many gorgeous friends of mine who made the trek to Lewisville for the wedding and then to Lucas for a sweet after-party. The only thing as great as getting married is having dozens of your closest friends and family from all over the country and from various unrelated groups descend upon your home town for one rockin' day of partying. It was sweet. Wish you could have all been there.

Contrary to my fears about wedding preparedness, we had far more cupcakes, groom's cake, and punch than necessary. There are now dozens of cupcakes in my mother-in-law's freezer awaiting our next trek downtown to pass out bagged lunches to homeless people. It's kind of cool that our friends in the city will get to share a little bit of celebratory cake with us.

And now, let me just share a few details about the past few days. Finally, FINALLY, after weeks of wondering if we were going to have a place to live when we got married, the condo my in-laws purchased and that we planned to rent from them closed. It was a short-sale, meaning a banker somewhere had to approve the sale amount. Finally, on Tuesday, that approval came through. Tuesday morning, my in-laws closed on the condo, got the keys, and headed over to Brandon's and my new home to check things out and begin the preparations for us to move in.

And. OMG. You guys. I cannot EVEN express to you the nastiness we have encountered this week. First off, when my in-laws arrived, the door was ajar and a window was broken. Upon pushing the door open, they were hit with a wave of stench and a view of general disarray.

It appeared that after the former owner moved out, someone else had moved in. There was stuff all over the place, junk in the bedrooms, BBs (BBs?????) on the floor of one bedroom, cigarette burns in the carpet, and trash everywhere.

And, the smell! Someone had, um, needed relief and found that relief in the bathroom and FAILED TO FLUSH FOR DAYS. Sick! Once we DID flush the toilet, the smell began to dissipate. Still, a bit of it lingered, and we couldn't figure out why.

I wondered into the bathroom to clear out any trash (don't worry, I was wearing gloves) and happened to glance down into a leftover trash can to find that someone had TAKEN A POO in the can! Can you believe that? I grabbed the can and ran for the dumpster hollering to Brandon that I'd located the source of the stench. After that the smell really began to go away and things were uphill from there.

On Wednesday, professional cleaners came to scrub that place down. Tomorrow, carpet people are coming to install new carpet in the bedrooms. And on Saturday, movers will come and move all our junk from a couple of storage units in Lucas out to our new home in Plano. We can't wait. You must come visit.

Anyway, that's all I've got. If anyone deserves a nice clean place to live, Brandon says it's me for being a trooper with cleaning out the poo condo.

P.S. The wedding is a complete blur, but here's a picture if you're curious about what we looked like. This is when we're charging up the aisle after being declared husband and wife to the vocals of Stevie Wonder singing "I'm Yours (Signed, Sealed, Delivered)." Pretty awesome.

What it ought to do

2008-10-01T10:12:00.003-05:00

My dear friend, Erin, asked for a post about Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin. She asked for it, so here's my opinion: I am OK with her as the VP pick.

I realize the squawking began a long time ago about her lack of experience and how it completely trumps John McCain's main advantage against Sen. Barack Obama. Except for the whole thing about John McCain being at the top of the ticket instead of Palin. So, it's not quite the same thing. Obama should really switch spots with Sen. Joe Biden. Then we'd have a more evenly matched race, in my humble opinion. So anyway, I like her. I don't agree with everything she and McCain stand for, but I like their fiscal policy and that's the only thing I think about when I vote anyway.

I've gotten into some conversations about politics recently with my fellow journalist colleagues (most of whom are "Commie Liberals"...cheers!) in which I hear things like:

"I just can't be OK with someone who believes in Creationism because that means he's stupid."

or

"Yes, but clearly abstinence only sex education doesn't work if her daughter is preggers."

And I would just like to set the record straight on one thing. Ahem. The problem with arguments like these is the fundamental difference in one's belief about what government ought to do. And here's what I mean by that:

I can't possibly agree with everyone on everything. I 100 percent don't believe that Creationism should be the primary theory taught in public schools. I do not care how people want to handle sex education in schools. I couldn't give a tiny rat's ass about whether someone is a gifted speaker.

And that's where I get stuck. Because here's the thing: while, yes, I do want everyone to be able to get quality, affordable health care, and, yes, I do want people to be able to buy homes, I just fundamentally believe that it's not the government's job to make sure all those things happen. It's not their job to take care of us. That's not where our help should come from. I honestly think it's really sad that when a hurricane hits, people get mad about not being taken care of when what I see on the TV screen are able-bodied people who could easily get their hands dirty and get to work.

It may sounds heartless, but I'm pretty sure that when some entity such as a governmental institution takes on the responsibility that the individual ought to have, it can only lead to a failure, a breakdown, long lines to see the doctor, and a lack of the good stuff that makes up the American Dream. (The dream, not the right or the entitlement.)

So that's my thought. I realize I've sort of drifted from the original topic of Sarah Palin. But, the reason I am OK with her and OK with John McCain is not because I agree with all their positions. It's not because Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house. It's because the kind of government they would run would (in theory) be less intrusive than the kind Barack Obama would run. And I just simply believe that my freedom means I have to take care of myself.

Down to the wire

2008-09-27T09:28:00.003-05:00

In exactly a week, I'll be waking up and driving to a church in Lewisville to get hitched. There is still much to be done. Today is our last Saturday to do things like go to Hobby Lobby for decorations, buy punch cups at Sam's, and get an engagement picture framed so our guests can see our smiling faces when they sign the guest scrapbook. It's slightly scary. Tiny details still have not been done (things like the bubbles I ordered for the sendoff arriving in the mail). And then there are the big things: printing programs, arranging flowers, picking up my dress, and getting a marriage license. And so, I've decided I do not recommend weddings to anyone. Just elope. Take the money and run. Have a fabulous honeymoon. Oh, right. We haven't booked our honeymoon yet either. Nervous for us? You should be.

In these last few days before Brandon and I tie the knot, I'm trying to observe keenly what it has been like to be single for my few years of adult life. I'm trying to mark in my head the whole Crazy Aunt Katy thing.

In college, when I lived with Mandy and Amy next door to Nicole, Natalie and Mel, Matt and Nicole would sometimes see me reading through my upstairs bedroom window when they came inside the triplex next door. Nicole told me once that Matt would look up and say, "Poor lonely Katy" because I was just sitting up there reading (probably Harry Potter) instead of out and about in the world. We had a good laugh about this, but the fact still stands that I wasn't actually lonely. I like to read. I like spending hours of time alone and just doing the things I want to do. I like going where I please. I like not worrying about what other people think. I like that I could go out for dinner with friends just as easily as I could stay home and read. I didn't mind it at all. And yet, I can't imagine going back. Never again in my life will I simply read a Harry Potter book without looking forward to someone coming home and climbing in bed with me.

A popular mantra in Christian circles (particularly at tiny evangelical Christian colleges like mine) is that you have to be "content in your singleness" before expecting to find someone. There's this sort of flawed idea that if you are "content" being single, content focusing only on God, he'll bring you a man/woman. So, people (particularly young Christian women) spend all this time focusing on being "content in their singleness" (or trying to convince God that they are). And there's this sort of stigma that seems to be attached to the very idea that anyone would want to be in a relationship or a marriage. Even though it was part of God's plan from the very beginning. The thing is, God didn't create us to be "content in our singleness," and he didn't make us solitary creatures. He created us for each other, for community. Thus, it makes perfect sense that we should want that kind of relationship.

Anyway, I think I was "content in my singleness." I know Brandon was. But, it doesn't matter. That's not why we ended up together. We both knew we wanted to get married eventually. I just figured it might not happen and managed to find a way to be OK with that. Maybe I wasn't "content in my singleness." Maybe I just figured there wasn't anyone for me. (I know, I know, I'm only 26 and was being dramatic, slightly.) I don't believe for a second in the magic formula of being content in your singleness so God will bring you a man. But I do believe that being content then led to me being content now. And I'm thankful.

Open letter to all y'all in charge in Washington

2008-09-25T13:38:00.004-05:00

Dear George W. Bush, Ben Bernanke, members of the Senate banking committee, and top dawgs at all, uh, banks and stuff:

Please do not be the worst Republican, economist, banking committee members, and greedy bastards (respectively) um, ever.

Your friend,
Katy

In all seriousness, the $700 billion bailout might be the worst financial decision ever to come out of Washington, D.C., Social Security notwithstanding. We are not in a financial crisis now (no matter what every journalist insists on writing...write a new story already for the love) but we will be once this stupid bailout has been approved.

Let's see. The country is in debt (to itself) to the tune of $9.7 trillion. TRILLION. Which looks like this: 97,000,000,000,000. And yes, that would be 12 zeros.

How can you be in debt to yourself? Well, let's assume I am a bank, the Bank of Katy. I have $100,000 in a little suitcase that I carry around with me. I write promissory notes (like checks) to people when I want to buy things or watch television or eat dinner at a restaurant. At the end of the month, those people all send the Bank Me a note saying that the Bank Me should give the business money to cover the things the Real Me bought. And the Bank Me gives them cash out of the suitcase. Except that the suitcase ran out of cash back in, oh, 1998 (tip of the hat to Reaganomics), and instead of paying all those people for the Real Me's expenditures, the Bank Me just writes an IOU to the business and sticks IOUs in the suitcase to pay back later with interest. Even the business, which may say it had a profitable year, is in debt. Because no one freaking paid. They wrote notes. For which the government gives them an out (declaring bankruptcy) if they decide suddenly that they made a stupid decision and can't actually pay what they owe.

So, we live in houses we can't afford, drive cars that depreciate in value (but on which we still owe massive sums of money), and commute to work on roads that were financed with, you guessed it, more debt. Bonds to be exact. Which we voted FOR. God help us. Especially if a Democrat gets elected in November. With this financial bailout, we're basically promising ourselves higher tax rates, increased inflation, fewer jobs, higher interest rates, and limits to what the market can do if the government would just leave it alone. And that's on top of the taxes we're guaranteed to have if a Democrat wins in November.

Year 3

2008-08-25T16:06:00.002-05:00

I've been a reporter for more than three years now, not counting a short stint as a public relations account coordinator in Portland, Ore., a job that I not only hated but also really sucked at. At that job, I also continued to freelance for a magazine in Waco, so I count myself as a three-year veteran of the news business.

Today, I was reflecting on the past three-plus years. My very first week on the job at the Waco Tribune-Herald, I went to Cricket's for drinks after work with my new coworkers. I was quite intimidated as most of them had been on the job for a while. One girl (who quickly became one of my best friends in Waco) even went to the Mizzou school of journalism. I was scared of these people.

That night, I asked fellow Trib-er Thad what he loved about journalism. He kind of smirked and said, "Oh, I just have no other marketable skills."

Thad would later that summer cover the ongoing standoff between peacenik mom Cindy Sheehan and President George W. Bush outside the Crawford ranch. Dubya refused to speak with her so she camped out in a ditch for several weeks. Thad covered the story for days on end.

I would, at that time, have been all over the idea of covering such a national news event. But, cynicism had gotten the better of him. Today, it's trying to get the better of me.

I used to hate the Olympics

2008-08-13T10:39:00.003-05:00

I have been watching every spare second of Olympics coverage I can squeeze in. I'm inspired. Last night, I even went jogging. And for lunch yesterday, I ate salad.

I wonder if Olympics season is similar to New Year's for fitness clubs. I wonder if they get extra business from all the people who have decided once and for all they are going to freaking get in shape and stop sitting on their fat butts. It makes sense to me.

Does anyone else just NOT understand gymnastics? I have no clue how they score all those back handsprings and flips and skills. All I know is that if you fall down, balance check, or fail to "stick" a landing, that's bad. Other than that, no clue. This is why I like the swimming competition. Whoever swims the fastest wins. Michael Phelps is part dolphin. I can't believe I ever hated the Olympics. The end.

Finally!

2008-07-30T16:00:00.001-05:00

There's a small chance I could be reviewing this movie in the next few months.

No reason whatsoever for this post

2008-07-24T12:44:00.002-05:00

One time, I had a blog on a little Web site called Xanga. I posted with some regularity and people sometimes read it and made comments. Then, I decided to move to Blogger and continue to write. Other people read it and made comments. Then I stopped posting with any regularity whatsoever and lalalala fingers in my ears what?

So, whatever. Here's where I'm at.

Brandon and I are house-hunting. OK, fine, we're condo-hunting. But, I think if we found a house that needed some TLC in one of our potential neighborhoods of interest (i.e. North Oak Cliff), we'd snatch it up and make it pretty. Could be good. The search continues.

In other news, the news. Has anyone else noticed the inordinate amount of media coverage for Barack Obama? I'm not one to believe the media plays favorites or intentionally gives more coverage to one side than the other. The media, I believe, covers what's interesting. But, these days, I can't seem to shake the Obamaniacs, both in person and in the news. OMG, everyone is obsessed with that guy. What is the big deal? It's not like he's Jesus (though sometimes I think he makes himself sound as important, like some sort of savior for the common man). Sheesh.

I've just revealed my sentiments. Again.

I'm here for the beer

2008-06-27T16:28:00.003-05:00

The best reason to stay at my job is the free booze, the Beer Friday celebrations, and the fact that we not only condone drinking at work, but, in fact, we encourage it. Last year, our gatherings included soft drinks. This year, we've eliminated the soft drinks in favor of expanding our beer and wine selection.

And with good reason.

This is not an easy job. It's stressful beyond belief. I never know if my work day will bring a retrial granted to a convicted killer on the grounds that DNA evidence aren't substantial enough to uphold his conviction or a standoff outside a suburban home or a city council meeting in which residents are teed off about golf nets in their neighborhoods. Seriously, the news abounds in Plano. Ya know. On the beat. And when news abounds, work abounds and stress piles up and you sometimes feel like your editor is breathing fire down your neck.

This week, I've written about a man who has been granted a new trial by the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the state's highest court on criminal matters. He was convicted years ago of murdering a young girl, but recent DNA evidence revealed that no reasonable jury would have convicted him if they'd had access to said evidence. It's exciting stuff, stuff I never would have guessed I'd be covering when I was a reporter covering tiny Texas towns like Lorena or Mart for the Waco Tribune-Herald. And sometimes, writing stories like this is just kind of awful all around. Yesterday, I drove to a park to look at a memorial erected in honor of the little girl who died in 1993. It was eery and slightly prurient to be standing in the park named for a girl whose killer may never be known.

But it's all worth it if there's beer at work.

Bit by little bit

2008-06-14T15:58:00.002-05:00

I've paid off one debt completely. It was a stupid personal loan. I borrowed the money right before I moved home from Portland because my Bank of America credit card was maxed out and I needed to make car repairs. So, I borrowed money from my bank, paid off the credit card, and then used the space on my credit card for car repairs and moving expenses. The credit card was paid off months ago, and I closed the account. I've now knocked out one more debt. Bit by little bit, I'm getting out of stupid debt.

Whaddyathinkaboutthat? Yes.

Basically, the past few and next few months have been and will be dedicated to getting this stuff paid off. I am making glorious progress. With any luck, Brandon and I will be married with zero credit card debt. Hallelujah.

So, right now, I am dog-sitting for a tidy schnauzer named Schatzi and putting my wage toward another credit card. Because every little bit helps.

Onward, Upward, Eastward

2008-06-04T10:25:00.003-05:00

I've moved east. Yes, this is the second time in less than three months that I've moved. Brandon's mom invited me to live in the guest bedroom, and I said yes for a couple reasons: 1) Hurst is in Tarrant County, one hour from Brandon; 2) Gas costs nearly $4 per gallon.

Anyway, I've moved. My furniture is still in Hurst, but I'm picking it up this weekend. More consolidating will happen between Brandon and I and our stuff. We have less stuff! We've given things away and thrown things away. We've exchanged beat up cardboard boxes for plastic storage totes. We've getting a storage unit in which we will keep the totes, our furniture, and any wedding gifts. It feels good to free ourselves of junk we've been holding on to. If you have a drawer or a cabinet or a closet or even a room full of junk, I advise throwing it away or calling a charity and having it picked up. Freeing yourself from the junk that weighs you down feels wonderful. Trust me: you don't need those old boxes full of books from your childhood or greeting cards from your ENTIRE LIFE. Seriously. I had several shoe boxes full of greeting cards from every holiday for the past 10 years. I threw most of it away and kept some letters, real letters, written by people like my grandparents or my dad. And those letters are filed away in one pretty, acid-free preservation storage box. It feels good to be free.

Tomorrow, I drive to the DART rail station on Parker Road, approximately five miles from my new residence. I will ride DART to Uptown Dallas and ride a bus for the short jaunt to my office. I'm taking my commute from 80 miles round trip down to 10 miles each day. Eff you gas prices. And traffic.

I really need a new look

2008-05-13T18:20:00.002-05:00

I'm kind of sick of looking at the plastic-looking Crazy Cat Lady, so I could use your suggestions on how to make this site pretty. I guess it doesn't matter too much since Brandon and I have a site we're technically supposed to be working on. We'll see. I don't know HTML code, and I don't think he does either. 'Tis all guess work.

Maybe I should just find a picture of a crazy cat lady wearing a bridal veil. Buahahahaha.

This week sucks. I won't go into all the messy details here. Suffice it to say that when one area of your life (or even several areas!!) start to go well, some other part of it falls terribly to pieces.

Career going smoothly? Check.
Adoring husband to be? Check.
Wedding to look forward to? Check.
Family financial life a go? Not so much.

A post about my friend

2008-05-06T12:38:00.003-05:00

So, last night, I received an email from my church asking for volunteers to go to Burma, also known as Myanmar, to help with relief efforts after the cyclone that hit last week. I automatically thought I should forward said email to fiance Brandon because he has a passport and the kind of job that would allow him to leave at the drop of a hat. I have a passport, too, and it is desperate for use, but I definitely don't have the kind of job where I can just up and leave.

But then I almost didn't push the button.

I began to think about what would happen when he opened that email. I knew he would volunteer immediately. I know he would love to go. Earlier that day, I would soon learn, he and our friend Michael had talked about how much each of them could just jump on a plane and go. And I almost didn't push the button because I don't want him to go.

And then I just pushed the button.

And yes, I'm being dramatic. But, here's the thing. My best friend lost her husband more than a year ago. She became a widow at 24 because of a freak boating accident, and now she's raising her son as a single mother. And I thought for a fleeting second that if Brandon went on that trip, something would happen and he wouldn't come home and I would be a widow even before I got married. So I basically didn't want him to even KNOW about this potential relief trip. And feeling led, feeling pushed, I sent the email.

Later that night, before Brandon even got home and saw my email, he mentioned his conversation with Michael, how he and Michael both wished they could just go and help. That's when I told him about the email, about the possibility of going, and about how, for a few fleeting seconds, I didn't even want him to know about it. I just had to send him that email because I knew I would be disobedient to God if I didn't. Does that even make sense?

Anyway, he's not going. The team filled up before he could respond. And when Brandon told me this morning that the team was formed and that they didn't need him, I felt oddly disappointed, maybe a little guilty. And then I felt comforted because I had this sense for a moment that I learned something here. Last night, I prayed on my way home in my car. I told God, "Brandon is not mine. He's yours." And I knew it to be true.

The irony in all of this is that the reason I didn't want Brandon to go to Burma is because I was afraid of something happening to him, of experiencing the same loss my best friend experienced more than a year ago. And then I got her email. And she's going to Burma. She's living in obedience, and obedience means different things to different lives. To me, it meant admitting my husband (to be) belongs to God and not to me. To him, it means volunteering. To her, it means going. And God is good, all the time.

Because I just value my sleep more than the environment

2008-04-30T10:57:00.003-05:00

OK, so, this morning it took me a half hour to drive to work, thanks to JenA's brilliant directions to take the highway right by our house rather than driving to the other highway which is busier and further away from our house. Saved me 15 minutes and several miles.

Upon arriving at work, I calculated the cost of using the Dallas Fort Worth area's mass transit options instead of driving. There's a rail station right by the house that would take me to downtown Dallas. I would then have to transfer from the Trinity Railway Express to the DART light rail system to travel uptown.

You'd think the Dallas and Fort Worth folks could collaborate to use one freaking light rail system rather than two that only connect in one horribly inconvenient location, but you would be wrong.

So, from downtown, I would take DART uptown to City Place Station. This would put me exactly 1.5 miles from my office. I would take a bus from City Place to the corner of Oak Lawn and Herschel where I work. And all this would take me 1.5 hours.

Granted it would save me money over driving once I figure in the cost of gas, maintaining my car, tires, oil changes, etc. In fact, the difference in cost is pretty substantial if I were to take the various mass transit options every day. BUT, I'd have to be traveling for 1.5 hours rather than 30 minutes and I'd be stuck without a car if news of a standoff broke in Plano. What to do, what to do.

Open Letter to all drivers

2008-04-29T12:28:00.003-05:00

Dear everyone,

I'm really just as angry about gas prices as you are. It now costs me $50 to fill up my little hatchback. It's a freaking Volkswagen Rabbit, for crying out loud. My car is fairly fuel efficient and gets around 33 miles to the gallon on the highway. Unfortunately, even if I only drive to and from work once a day, I still must fill up once a week because I live in freaking Dallas where no one believes in Communist mass transit. So, $50 per week. Eff you, big oil. And Dubya. Harumph.

Er, wait just one minute. I suppose getting mad at the gas prices doesn't do any good, does it? I mean, the gas companies don't set the price of oil. OPEC's actions determine the price of oil, friends, and that means despite what a delightfully easy target the oil companies are, it's not really their fault. They just follow the lead of oil-producing countries like Venezuela, Iran, Saudi Arabia. Countries we all know love us to pieces. Ahem. Sarcasm, cough cough. Countries which limit their oil production to keep prices from dropping like crazy. It's business, folks. Supply and demand. In this case, demand determines supply.

Hence, the solution is not to burn down Exxon Mobil. The solution is to use less. Consuming less limits demand for oil. If everyone did it, the price of oil would drop because demand for it had dropped. Duh.

Also, I guess it would probably help to acknowledge that we did go to Iraq to protect our interests. The primary interest being the availability of oil. IJS.

Love,
Katy

Before and After: Blog Filler Flowers

2008-04-25T11:33:00.004-05:00

Lately, when I write on this blog, I go for days at a time without posting again. This post is mostly for the sake of writing something down. I'm sorry. It's just how it goes. I'm glad every time I come up with something, anything, I consider blog worthy. Lately, things that are blog worthy are also more interesting in my real life than in my blog life. Basically, my blog used to be more interesting than my life because I have the ability, as a writer, to make things sound more interesting than they are when my life is not that interesting. However, when my life actually IS interesting, I don't have the motivation to make it sounds clever and bloggy because, um, I'd rather just be doing my life. Basically, I'd rather be hanging out with Brandon than sending out messages for the Internets.

For example, planning my wedding is probably a whole lot more interesting to me than to any of you, my readers. Now, I'm sure there are things that you might be interested in, but I doubt you care that I've chosen two shades of pink carnations for my wedding flowers.

And I like that I've made that decision, and I don't really give a tiny rat's ass if anyone else finds it remotely interesting or even approves of the decision because it's my wedding and it will be the most wonderful day and I doubt I can properly convey the excitement I feel about the wedding and marriage on a blog. Also, I don't care that Charlotte on "Sex and the City" called carnations filler flowers. Harumph.

Anyway, I keep blogging, but lately it seems the most interesting stuff I can conjure is pictures, bulleted lists of what I did over the weekend, and links to Web sites on stuff white people like. Am interesting, yes?

P.S. I got the above photo from Real Simple Weddings. Just saying, you know, so they don't sue me.

Because Blue Bell is certainly the kindest ice cream

2008-04-22T13:47:00.013-05:00

Brandon and I needed to get out of town for a weekend. We are both tired, we are both constantly stressed out about work, we are both in need of rest. So, this weekend, we left town. We agreed on the way back to Dallas on Sunday that we probably tried to pack too much into one weekend, but we still had a wonderful time. And, of course, we experienced a couple of challenges which annoyed us to pieces and caused us to declare that we are done owning cars. Finished I tell you! Harumph.

On Friday, we drove to Brenham. Our goal was to visit the Blue Bell factory and see the Washington County Bluebonnets. Unfortunately for us (and as is typical of us) we did not get quite the early start we imagined. As we rolled into Washinton County, we realized we had 25 minutes to get someplace that would normally be 35 minutes away. We were going to miss the last tour of the Blue Bell factory. This was quite disappointing, but we figured we would try anyway.

We arrived at the Blue Bell creamery exactly six minutes after the last tour departed for the day. My eyes welled up, as I was so disappointed. Luckily for us, a nice man named Ricky Dickson happened to be standing there at the creamery entrance. He turned out to be a Blue Bell big shot, and he promised he would take us on a tour if no one else would. He found a tour guide for us, and we got to take a tour after all! The peasants rejoiced. And ate ice cream.

The first time I visited Matt and Nicole Tatum in their Portland, Ore. apartment, I bought two half-gallons of Blue Bell ice cream before I left town. I packed them in a styrofoam cooler on dry ice, and when I landed in Portland, eight hours after I bought the ice cream at an H-E-B in Austin, they were still frozen solid thanks to the wonder of dry ice. I am a dedicated Blue Bell fan. And now, not only do I love Blue Bell because it is tasty but also because it is the kindest ice cream.

And now for the rest of the trip:

We ate Italian food in Brenham.

We ate barbecue in Sealy, Texas, with Brandon's dad who drove up from Houston to meet us for lunch.

And then we drove to San Antonio. We made it to San Antonio in time to visit the Alamo before it closed for the day.

We ate Mexican food. We thought about going salsa dancing. And then we went to sleep instead.

On Sunday, we found a screw in the wall of Brandon's back driver side tire. We bought a tire at National Tire and Battery because Discount Tire Company was closed. We're still peeved about it.

We drove home through Waco and stopped for Health Camp burgers and chocolate shakes.

We visited the Suspension Bridge.

And we drove past the Waco Tribune-Herald for posterity's sake. Sniffle. How I love that place.

All in all, this was a relaxing trip. Clearly, the highlight (for me) was the ice cream. Please kindly ignore how chunky I look in this picture. Ice cream=delish.

Yes!

2008-04-16T09:56:00.006-05:00

On Sunday morning, Brandon and I went to the Dallas Arboretum to take our engagement pictures. We happened to go to the Arboretum on the last day of the Dallas Blooms festival, possibly the busiest day of the year. Needless to say, there were people everywhere. It was annoying trying to shoot intimate pictures with hundreds of people milling around, but my good friend Allison is a champion and managed to capture some truly lovely shots of us. Here's a sampling. Enjoy!

Nice, sweet profile shot.

We love each other.

Yes!

Whadyathink?

Happy Birthday: We love that shit.

2008-04-11T11:47:00.005-05:00

My old friend Brandon celebrated his 27th birthday yesterday. It occurred to me as I was getting ready for bed last night that I met Brandon when I was 15, as a nerdy high school freshman. I even checked my yearbook to make sure I had, indeed, met him that year because OMG that was 10 years ago. I met him when I was 15. I'm now 25. How time flies.

We celebrated Brandon's birthday by taking in a Frisco RoughRiders baseball game. The RoughRiders are a Texas Rangers farm team, and last night was their home opener. Most of our group of friends went to the game, including a couple newer additions, my fiance Brandon and a couple spouses, significant others, and college friends the group amassed in the last 10 years. But, the same core group of people, mostly, are still there. At one point during the evening, I turned to Ryon, a newish addition to the group, and said, "I love being this age."

I met old chum Brandon in the school cafeteria and subsequently met a small group of his friends, including a couple from the youth group. They welcomed me into their group, and this was much appreciated given aforementioned uber-nerdiness. I sat with them at lunch every day, thanking my lucky stars I didn't have to sit alone. See, freshman year was my first year back in a public school, and I didn't know anyone. I had braces. I was on the drill team but didn't jive with the girls. I lucked out and sat with a church girl friend first semester of that year, but by second semester, we had different lunch hours. I was stuck. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I somehow spotted this small group of kids that included a few from the youth group at church. I remember sheepishly asking if I could sit with them and being so grateful to drop into a seat. I never finished my lunch, and Brandon always ate the rest of it. I really thought they were the coolest people in school.

Last night at the game, we collectively spotted a girl we went to high school with who (I think) had been head cheerleader or something. Standing around after the game, we saw her approach the ballplayers from the stands, and I kind of smirked about the irony. There was a person who had been COOL in high school, talking to minor league ballplayers because they wear uniforms. Instead of hitting on football players after games, she drives to Frisco to hit on AA ballplayers. I imagine not much has changed for her. But for us, these friends I've known for 10 years, change defines us. After my wedding this fall, our group will include six married couples. This summer, my friend Lindsey will have the second baby in the group. Life just keeps getting better. Richer.

Most of that original lunch bunch was there last night. We're all still friends. As a group, we took up a four row section of seats in the ballpark. We ate hot dogs and cotton candy and drank overpriced beer and didn't really watch much of the game. Instead, we laughed. And I was, am, so very thankful.

Happy Birthday, Brandon! We all love you.

If you ever get sick in Plano

2008-04-04T14:32:00.003-05:00

If it happens, try to make the ambulance or your husband or wife or parents take you to Presbyterian Hospital. Because their food is delish. Seriously, I had lunch there this week. The room service program won a national restaurant award and I chose to write a fun story about it. And they served me lunch when I came out to do the reporting. The hospital's head chef prepared the most wonderful enchilada I have ever put in my mouth. Wild mushroom enchiladas. Beef tenderloin with Yukon gold potatoes and white and green asparagus. Grilled salmon with maple bread pudding and jicama cucumber slaw. I would happily go out to eat at Presbyterian if that were an option. But I'm not ill or bedridden. Also, you don't go out to eat at hospitals. Harumph.

Bored at work?

2008-03-27T10:14:00.003-05:00

I made a change on this blog today. I added a link to a blog that might have just changed my life. I can't believe how many of these stereotypes I fit into. What stereotypes, you ask? Well, the white people ones. That's right, I just added a blog to the blogroll on Stuff White People Like. Check it. Tell me where you fit.

***Disclaimer: I realize it's a little less than P.C. to link to a blog on Stuff White People Like, but I'm white so it's not like I'm making fun of a particular race, is it?***

This year will be better.

2008-03-24T18:59:00.005-05:00

It's been like a month since I updated this blog. The thing is, sometimes, I think in my head, "Man, this would make a great blog post." But then I immediately forget that I thought whatever it was would make a great blog post because it happens to make for a great life. Whoo, am I deep or what?

Bygones. Multiple people have requested new information. Erin informed me that she would jam school supplies in her eyes if I didn't update. There were just so many things going on I didn't know where to start. Since that's still the case, I'll just give you the update in a nice list format, tasty little morsels of What I've Been Doing With Myself.

1) I decided I do, in fact, enjoy my job. Sometimes. About 10 days ago, I covered a standoff ("on the beat," as Nicole would say) in good ol' West Plano. A 19-year-old man baricaded himself in his home after an argument with his mother. Supposedly, in that argument, he threatened to hurt himself and her. He had a prior felony drug charge for which he had been indicted. He fired at least four shots at SWAT and tactical teams and has now been charged with four counts of attempted capital murder. And I got to stand about three blocks from the West Plano home where his family lives waiting with the rest of the Dallas news media as the story developed.

(I realize that this is about the point in the post when most of my readership [all five of you] raise your eyebrows in disbelief that I could possibly derive so much enjoyment out of covering a standoff, but I'm telling you, there's nothing like it if you're a reporter. It's just exciting.)

2) My sister got engaged on Friday. Zach invited the whole family up for a barbecue at his family's doublewide on Lake Eufaula on Saturday. My parents met Zach's parents, and it wasn't that bad. This gives me some slight ray of hope that when my parents meet Brandon's parents, it won't be that bad.

3) On a similar note, Brandon and I had big plans to go camping on Friday night at Lake Eufaula State Park. We were very excited. I even got a new sleeping bag. I am super cool and own a fancy North Face sleeping bag ideally suited for the foothills of the Himalayas. Seriously, it's really freaking cool. Unfortunately, my mom flipped her shit out when she heard we had plans to go camping. She balked at the perceived impropriety and told my dad she would throw me out of the house if we went camping and told me that we were probably going to have a lot of crazy wild sex and would regret it big time blah blah blah. I disagree. I think it's pretty difficult to accidentally have sex and even if we did we'd probably get over it because, um, we're grown-ups. Whatevs. We decided not to go camping and not to poke the Mama Bear.

4) So-oo, I'm moving in with JenA on April 15-ish. I'm really excited about this because it is my last chance to live with a girl before I must live with a boy forever. I'm looking forward to reviving our Tequila Tuesday ritual, even if that means a cheap well tequila we keep in our freezer for special occasions.

5) Brandon and I are taking engagement pictures on April 13 at the Dallas Arboretum. My good friend Allison is taking them, and I'm pretty excited because who doesn't like flowers and pretty springtime days and being with people you love? I'm happy. Also, she's a fantastic photographer and is shooting our photos as a gift.

6) My life is good right now. I wish there were more ways I could express it to you. Unfortunately, this is about all I have right now. Pictures to come. Here's one to tide you over.

Combining

2008-02-28T16:34:00.004-06:00

Today, I am accomplishing so much it's laughable. Maybe it's just that I'm so used to accomplishing so little (am slacker) that accomplishing the Things I Am Supposed to Be Doing is, like, wicked affirming. Ahem.

This week, we have been discussing things like which insurance company we'll use and when we'll combine our finances and whether it would be better to go ahead and combine our savings accounts into one right now to get our combined total up to the next interest rate level. We are so grown-up. Today, we're starting our budget.

And yet, I wouldn't want to do things like plan how much we'll spend on groceries with anyone else. And maybe we're a little overzealous with our planning. I mean, a budget? At seven months before the wedding? Seriously? And the answer is yes, seriously, because we are moving forward into grown-up land and have never done this before and can use the cushion of time. Nonetheless, this mundanity just means we're combining. Melding our two lives into one.

The highlight of my week so far was last night. I heard poet Billy Collins speak to hundreds of people at the community college in Plano. He read some of his wonderful poems and haiku, dazzled us with his wit, and then signed books. Brandon and I were first in line for the book-signing because Brandon slipped out during the Q&A and stood in line on our behalf. Brandon had me to thank for the Billy in his life, as he had never heard of the man before I came along.

These days, we both enjoy the wonderful writing and

Books that once belonged
to me are inscribed with us
"To Katy + Brandon."

That's my hasty blog worthy attempt at a haiku in Billy's honor. Did you enjoy it? I sort of do. The last line technically is six syllables instead of five. However, Billy literally wrote the plus sign instead of and ampersand between our names, so I think it works.

My favorite portion of the evening might have been during the Q&A when one girl stood up and asked Billy what kind of tea he drinks. His response: "My persona drinks tea. I drink coffee."

Stumps, caucuses, delegates and a reporter

2008-02-21T10:15:00.004-06:00

I may have been bitten by the political reporting bug. I go back and forth on what I believe would be the ideal type or reporting for me. Religion and politics are my two favorite contenders. And I love it when they go hand in hand simply because it makes for great stories.

Yesterday was my first experience covering a national political race. Sort of.

In the morning, I attended the Barrack Obama rally in downtown Dallas. I didn't cover it for the newspaper, since downtown is not in my coverage area. But I went just to see what all the fuss is about. That man is quite the speaker. Eloquent, he never faltered, he never stuttered. And he never said much of anything concrete.

I like Obama, really I do. But I don't need to like someone for them to be President. I need to agree with their methodology for getting our country back on track. Why is it that the Democrats are always trying to re-elect Kennedy? And why do they tout Kennedy's integrity? Didn't the guy cheat on his wife? Former Dallas Mayor Ron Kirk compared Obama to John F. Kennedy, which I found slightly eery since the rally took place mere steps from Dealy Plaza.

In the evening, I covered the Mike Huckabee rally in Plano. Huckabee spoke to a crowd of more than 1,000 people in Plano, a conservative stronghold in the Metroplex.

The crowd was so incredibly different from the crowd at the Obama rally earlier in the day that comparing them is like matching apples to oranges. Obama's supporters were mostly black and Hispanic. There were a lot of young people, college students. Huckabee hosted hundreds of families, women, children, old, young. Families. The middle class. There was no swaying to Motown in the bleachers.

And I got to ask a question.

The rally began at 7:30, but I arrived 30 minutes early, just in time for a short press conference. The conference was held in a small room attached to a larger room where the actual rally was held. I sat with maybe a dozen other local media members in the middle of the back row. There were only two rows of chairs. As the other reporters began firing off their questions, I suddenly came up with what I thought was a brilliant question with a local focus. The press conference was nearing its end when I started raising my hand and saying, "Governor, Governor!' and waving with the others, though I suspect I was not quite as brash as some of the other reporters who spoke out of turn and asked ludicrous questions such as, "How do you feel about John McCain?"

A campaign manager type person finally said it was time to wrap things up, and Huckabee looked at us and said, "Let's take one more question from someone local." At this point, I had my hand in the air and had said "Governor!" a couple times, patiently waiting my turn.

Huckabee looked at me and said kindly, "Are you local?" "Yes, I'm local," I said. And then I asked him my question: "As recently as a few weeks ago, campaign contributions in the Dallas area were largely directed toward Guiliani and Romney. How do you court those voters now that those candidates are no longer in the race?"

I really liked his answer. He talked about how his campaign has spent a dime for the dollar that the other candidates spent, that his supporters are grass roots folks with passion for their convictions who are supporting him with their votes. He basically said votes are more important than money. And he certainly indicated that the race isn't over, despite the substantial lead John McCain has over him in the primaries thus far. Of course, he added that if I knew anyone who would like to write a large check, his campaign address is Box 2008 in Little Rock. He's clever like a preacher.

After the press conference (if you can call it that), the rally began. There was standing room only in the event room packed with hundreds of people. I managed to secure a spot on the media platform at the back of the room, so I could see the stage when the "I Like Mike" signs weren't raised. Huckabee spoke with the tenacity and backbone of a Southern Baptist minister, and explained how he would get rid of the IRS, create a Veteran's Bill of Rights and securing the Texas border.

It was a good night. I didn't feel like I was at a rock concert. Huckabee told a joke that went on for far too long. He wasn't perfect and polished like Obama, but he seemed genuine, trustworthy. And, best of all, I got the last question, and it was a good one. So, I'm proud of myself. And I just might enjoy this political reporting thing.

Because a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste

2008-02-18T16:14:00.005-06:00

So, at the very moment, I literally AM waiting on the rest of the world. It's a phrase Brandon and I toss around a lot because one time he went upstairs in his parents' house to find his stepdad, Jim, watching "16 Candles" at 9:30 a.m. in his transportation (pajama) pants (dubbed "transportation pants" because they feature modes of transportation such as cars and planes and ferries) and when Brandon asked Jim why he was watching "16 Candles" in his transportation pants Jim said he had made all his phone calls and was just waiting on the rest of the world. So, yes. I'm waiting on the rest of the world to call me. To be more specific, I'm waiting on the Collin County Commissioner's Court members to call me back and, uh, answer some questions.

So, for right now, let me tell you about a slightly humorous moment concerning some cupcakes and wedding planning. Brandon and I are deciding between cupcakes and wedding cake. And I found a lovely picture of a cupcake, white with white frosting and white sprinkles topped with a single raspberry. I thought it would be perfect for a cupcake tree, so I sent the picture to my future mother- and sister-in-law. I did this not because I had any reservations about aforementioned cupcake design but because I like sharing details with people who care about details and I know they like to be included in the details and the information. Lalalalala.

Well, future sister-in-law said she thought the cupcakes looked like boobs. Which I thought was humorous because they totally don't and the frosting isn't pink. Needless to say, if we do the cupcakes, I think we will be turning the raspberries around from the way they are in the picture so they don't point straight up in the air and so that they are sort of resting on the frosting and kind of at an angle, as if the raspberry is a woman reclining on a chaise lounge rather than her boob pointing straight up in the air while she is strapped down to a gurney in a mental institution. IJS.

Because no one wants to discuss VDay more than me

2008-02-14T19:53:00.003-06:00

Because Valentine's Day is almost over, I have about three hours and 57 minutes left to write a post expression how much I love and hate it at the same time. The Hate It part of me wants to not direct you to the Web site for the Worst Holiday of all time.

The Love It part of me wants to talk about how, though this will be only the second Valentine's Day I've celebrated with someone else, though by all accounts I should be the type of woman who insists on referring to Valentine's Day as "Singles' Awareness Day" and who you might think would be all about "The Vagina Monologues," I can't help that I kind of love the kitch.

However, I don't like Eve Ensler. And I don't like how, for whatever reason, Valentine's Day is about women who have issues. Sigh. I know this will not win me any points with the Internets. What. Ev. Ah.

Anywho.

I think the reason I don't like her is because I feel like she might actually perpetuate the idea that women need to be free from something, that women's bodies are somehow more problematic then men's, and that women have a hard time sexually because they don't "know themselves" or something. And, um, really? I'm not saying it shouldn't be discussed. I'm not saying that violence against women isn't a problem because it is. But I'm also wondering if maybe all this attention we pay to Why Women Can't Get Off is somehow contributing to Why Women Can't Get Off.

What say you?

I can only hope to have more such perfect blog fodder

2008-02-04T10:52:00.000-06:00

I bought my wedding dress yesterday. I found THE dress two days after Brandon and I got engaged one evening when I'd had a shitty day at work and wanted to cheer myself up so I went to look at wedding dresses. It was that kind of night.

I went to David's Bridal, home of the off-the-rack gown, and tried on four dresses on a Friday night a couple hours before Brandon and I were to go somewhere. I don't know where we were going, but I was meeting him later on. The day before, Thursday, I had stopped into another bridal boutique in Lewisville and tried on four gowns, settling on a particular style I knew looked nice on me. On Friday, when I tried on the eighth dress, I already knew the style would work. It was just a matter of finding the right dress.

And find it I did. I took several trips to look at it and try it on. The second look included my mother and best friend JenA. For the third visit, I brought my future mother-in-law and future sister-in-law. FSIL Amanda told me to look at more dresses just to make sure I had the one I wanted. I thought about looking at other dresses, and decided not to since I already had the one I wanted. I didn't want to try on another dress. I felt ownership toward the one I chose.

My fourth visit was yesterday. I brought my dad with me and made for the petite section of the store. And the dress wasn't there. This concerned me, of course. The dress is so simple that I couldn't imagine another woman choosing it for herself. It is so me that it couldn't be anyone else's dress. I found a salesgirl and asked where the dress was. Poor girl was new and timid. I asked if she could look in the back and see if there was another dress. So, she went and came back with this report: "There's another bride wearing it right now."

Of course, I knew that David's Bridal could have ordered me another gown, but what if the next one wasn't such a great fit? What if something about THAT ONE DRESS made it so perfect for me? I saw the other bride in MY dress, and I kind of wanted to hit her. I actually asked the saleswoman if she could go tell the other girl who didn't look good in the dress. My dad had $2 in his pocket and offered it to the salesgirl saying, "Hey, here's $2. Go tell that other girl she looks like crap." I think it was a "Friends" moment. I could totally see something like this happening to Monica (though I'm pretty sure Monica wouldn't buy off the rack).

Finally, the sales girl talked to another sales woman and learned that the other bride was only trying the gown on for size and wanted it in another color. But I still felt like I was in the danger zone until she finally took off the dress and gave it up. There's just nothing like seeing someone wearing YOUR wedding dress. And she really didn't look that great in it. I'm just sayin'.

It's been a while

2008-02-02T10:21:00.000-06:00

I know, I know. I have neglected the blog, and people keep asking me when the heck I'm going to update. So here goes.

I got engaged. Boyfriend Brandon is now fiance Brandon. We're getting married Oct. 4 in his parents' backyard in Allen, just north of Dallas. There will be a delicious backyard barbecue and some good times with good people. I hope you can come.

I dropped out of the Texas Independence Relay. Actually, to be accurate, I found another team to take over our team's registration fee. The closer we got to the race, the more nervous I got about running and, uh, dying. My legs can't handle it. Plus, people on our team started dropping like flies. Anyway, we sold the registration to another team, all team members will get their money back, and Kathleen won't hate my guts. I still plan to run some 5Ks and hopefully a 10K later this year.

I found my wedding dress. At least, I think I did. I have tried it on several times and am about ready to buy it. Wish I could tell you all about it, but I'm trying to save some surprises for the actual wedding.

I would be happy going to the justice of the peace tomorrow. Of course, later, Brandon says he knows I'll wish we had a wedding. For now, eight months just seems like a long time to wait. Sigh.

Feeling like an adult

2008-01-18T09:31:00.000-06:00

There's nothing like balancing a checkbook to make you feel like a grown-up. But there's nothing like maintaining a balance $2.74 off from the bank's record to make you feel like you really don't know what you're doing. I can't figure out where that money went, but part of me just wants to subtract it from my balance and keep going. Not grown-up. Definitely not grown-up behavior.

Today, B and I head to Arkansas to celebrate my sister's 22nd birthday. She is a little upset with me right now because I told her B and I would probably get married this year, which would be before she and her boyfriend (whom she's been dating for two years) do. Actually, she hung up the phone on me. We maintain that it makes sense for us to not wait since we are older, out of school and have good jobs. We are relatively secure, and it's not like we're dependant on our parents like some of Carole's peers who are getting engaged. Also, they're not engaged yet. I'm also 3.5 years older, but whatever.

Carole maintains that since she's the one with the longer relationship, she should be the first to walk down the aisle. Which is fine except that if B and I wait until Carole gets married, we'll have to wait two years ourselves. And in two years, I'll be 27, not 25. And 27 just seems really old to me.

So, anyway, any advice? I remember one of my college friends being perturbed with another friend for considering a marriage the summer after our junior year. However, then the couple broke up instead, so they kind of canceled out the irritation. I'm not really sure if Carole has a legitimate reason to be mad at me, but it doesn't change the fact that her feelings are real.

Sigh.

On another note, a co-worker sent me this video recently because I watch and read anything having to do with Mike Huckabee. Because I heart Huckabee. And aforementioned co-worker knows that.

For good measure, I did a Google news search for stories about this particular convention and all I found were angry blog posts about how Huckabee is calling for a theocracy in the United States blah blah violating first ammendment rights blah blah we hate Jesus. Basically, nonsense. No legitimate news on the speech at all.

BUT. I am pretty sure Mike Huckabee was NOT trying to endorse a theocratic state but was, in fact, alluding to the fact that he supports a Constitutional amendment defining marriage and supports overturning Roe v. Wade.

I am FOR neither of those two things, mostly because I feel like the best thing to do is maintain the status quo. Don't make things any worse, and don't try to make things any better because no one can agree what "better" means. But also? Do not take all my money and do institute the fair tax, which actually IS fair to everyone. I'm just sayin'.

Yeah, I vote with my pocketbook. I am a selfish American. Sue me.

Everybody nees a little forgiveness

2008-01-10T18:35:00.000-06:00

It's hard to give, it's hard to get. Yeah, I know. The poet told us that. OK, fine. It was Patty Griffin. The point is, I'm no good at it. Not when it really matters.

I can forgive people I love dearly, people who, so far, have made it easy to love them. What's hard for me is forgiving those who have disappointed me over and over again. I wish I didn't remember, but I do remember seeing the water turned off or the lights out or the phone service out at my house growing up because my dad couldn't pay the bill.

I'm trying not to be angry that for the zillionth time in my life, my dad has let me down. I'm trying to forgive him.

I can't help that right now I'm a little angry at the church elders sitting downstairs in the living room talking to my parents and explaining why they can't keep paying the mortgage. I'm angry that they won't cover a phone bill. How is anyone in this house -- namely my mother, who is looking for a job -- supposed to get a job without a phone? My dad may think he's too good to punch a clock, but without phone service, there's a virtual guarantee no one will ever call him for an interview.

We're back at square one yet again. I'm just trying to keep my own head above water so that my kids never have to see what I've seen. And yet, this is life. It sucks. It hurts. But, it's pretty much all we have, and I'm trying to remember that. Thank you, God.

All the news not fit to print

2008-01-07T22:38:00.000-06:00

I've had a lot of days lately where I don't like my job. Or my business. Mostly my business because the news is always bad. Granted, I don't often have to cover bad, awful news, but someone like me does have to write about it.

Someone like me does have to write about a man in Tyler, Texas who murdered and then cooked parts of his girlfriend's dead body. Someone else in the news business has to report about a prostituion ring victimizing a 14-year-old girl.

Yeah, I love the news business. It's no wonder people dislike journalists so much. We bring the shit. Katy does not bring the fun. Katy brings the news. And the news sucks sometimes.

Breaking up is hard to do, she said

2008-01-02T18:03:00.000-06:00

I paid off a credit card today. It didn't have a high balance, only about $315, but it's the small victories that count right? Especially when those small victories lead me one step closer to the life I really want to live. Literally.

Tomorrow, the last payment should be posted to the account by midnight. And on Friday, I will call the bank and request that the account be closed. Following the instructions of my personal favorite financier, I'll follow up the call with a letter with which I plan to send the cut up credit card.

A few weeks from now, I'll call again to make sure the account is closed. I'll assume the account is not closed. If it is closed, I'll be happy. If it isn't closed, I won't be surprised.

In a few months, I'll request a copy of my credit report. Assuming Mary Hunt's directions on how to get rid of a credit account are correct (oh, something tells me they are), my credit report will say the account has been closed at the customer's request rather than at the bank's request. She said in one of her books that breaking up is hard to do because credit card companies work hard for our business and want us to keep those revolving credit door revolving.

Plastics make it all possible. Harhar.

My healthy credit score will dip a little bit, but in six months, it'll bounce back up. And I'm excited. I paid off a card. It was a small account, but I paid it off with cash. I didn't transfer the balance to another card, one with a lower interest rate. I didn't take out any kind of consolidation loan. I paid it off with real money, the kind for which plastic is no substitute.

Thank you, God.

On the eve

2007-12-24T15:01:00.001-06:00

My dad and I bought a Christmas tree on Saturday. Yes, we realize Christmas is tomorrow. And we realize that we bought our tree three days before Christmas. But this is what we do every year. We wait until the last minute and then buy the tree for really cheap and consequently end up with a tree that isn't all dried out from the heat inside the house by Christmas Eve. I also can't decorate the tree without my sister, so waiting until she gets home is required. It works out well for all.

We had opted to just use the little artificial tree this year, as we were getting down to the wire and didn't feel much like buying a tree. We typically get a little Charlie Brown around Christmastime. I think it's because buying a tree and everything else to do with Christmas, the Stuff You Have to BUY things, really get us down. They bother my dad because he never financially prepares for Christmas. They bother the rest of the family because the rest of us couldn't care less if we have gifts or holiday whatnot and would really prefer to go without them if it would put Dad in a better mood. Usually, I don't remember what I receive from year to year, so it seems silly to get worked up about gifts.

Anyway, we planned to just use the artificial tree, the backup. And the backup is missing a few pieces which have vanished into the attic in the four or so years since we last used it. So, Dad and I bought a six foot Frasier fir which the guy at the nursery said was about a four foot tree.

On the way to buying the tree, my dad apologized for not feeling very Christmasy, as is his custom. I said it's hard to feel Christmasy without a tree. He said it's hard to feel Christmasy when one hasn't got much money.

And I found that horribly off-putting. I just stared at him and said, "Um, a feed trough and some shepherds? Ring a bell?" And he hugged me. And that is one of those rare father-daughter moments my dad and I don't have much anymore because we're always running in opposite directions and working like fools.

We were in much better moods the rest of the day. And I kept thinking of something JenA wrote on her blog the other day. She wrote that her favorite thing about Christmas is Christmas Eve:

"Because Christmas Day is like, 'We've arrived, we can breathe,' but Christmas Eve is about quiet anticipation. We know the biggest moment in our history as people of God is about to happen, the way Mary and Joseph kind of knew. But they had to be quiet about it, so God made the announcement with the things He created."

And I like that. And I think it's right on. And even if I have to make another trip to Costco before this day is over, I'm going to be thinking of living on the brink of the biggest moment in my history while I do it.

Christmas survey

2007-12-17T22:29:00.000-06:00

Lauren tagged me for a Christmas survey. And because it gives me something to post, I'm shamelessly taking her up on it. Also, I tag Nicole, Jen, and Kathleen for this one.

1. What kind of tree do you have?
Right this moment, we don't have a tree yet. I refuse to get a tree and decorate it without my sister, so we're waiting until the weekend. I know all you weirdos with your fake trees are wondering how the hell I feel like it's Christmas without a tree in the house. Well, just so you know, people once put up Christmas trees on Christmas Eve. And before that, people didn't put up Christmas trees at all. So yeah. We're waiting until the family can decorate it together. When we do get a tree it'll be either a Frasier or Douglas fir tree. Those are my favorites.

2. What is your favorite Christmas movie?
"Home Alone" and "A Charlie Brown Christmas"

3. What is your favorite Christmas holiday food?
My mom makes this weird cranberry congealed salad for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I like it, but it's not my favorite thing in the world to eat. However, it's my favorite thing because of the tradition.

4. Do you use wrapping paper or gift bags?
Gift bags are such a cop out.

5. Do you have a nativity scene in your house?
We have two. One is this serene looking crystal set my mom got as a gift. The other is a funky gold set with about a million pieces, including two camels my grandpa named Zeak and Abdul. Obviously the names have stuck. I freaking love those camels. And that nativity scene. Even though it's hopelessly tacky.

6. What is your favorite Christmas song?
I like the Charlie Brown Christmas album with the kids singing "Christmastime Is Here." It always gets stuck in my head, and I walk around singing in a really high-pitched weird breathy voice after I hear it. And who doesn't love the Chipmunks Christmas song? I also like Ron Sexsmith's version of "Maybe This Christma" and "River" by Joni Mitchell (though, admittedly, "River" isn't really a Christmas song at all and is kind of sad).

7. What is the most memorable gift you received as a child?
I got a wooden Nutcracker doll one year after I got slighted by my ballet teacher for the Clara role in the yearly production. She picked her daughter instead of me.

8. What was the worst gift you ever received?
Right after Chad and I broke up sophomore year, we exchanged the gifts we'd already gotten each other. I got him a devotional book that he already had, and he got me a bonsai tree. I think I got the short end of that stick. Stupid tree.

9. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
Martha, Martha! That's what I think of now when I think about how feverish everyone gets around the holidays. There's this one passage in Luke where Jesus goes to visit Mary, Martha and Lazarus in their home. Mary literally sits at his feet listening to him speak while Martha bustles around like a crazy woman and finally gets mad at her sister for not helping her. And it's hilarious because right after she protests to Jesus about how her sister hasn't lifted a finger to help her, Jesus says her name not once, but twice and then tells her that Mary has chosen the better portion. It's weird, but while I love the family stuff I'm doing right now, some stuff with my family and far more with the boyfriend's ginormous family, sometimes I just want go for a long drive and not do any of it. In all the festivities and nonsensical traditions, I feel completely lost.

10. Favorite thing about this time of year?
My sister and I always eat Asian food on Christmas night. We go out for hibachi and sushi, usually, and she eats the sushi and I eat the hibachi. My favorite thing? My family. They're crazy, but I love them. Christmas always seemed like it was going to be disappointing at my house when I was growing up. My dad never liked it because it made him feel inadequate when he couldn't give us the piles of gifts he thought we wanted. But on Christmas morning, we always felt fine, like we loved each other and it didn't matter that my sister and I got pajamas from my mom and something from the Christian bookstore from my dad or that my dad got yet another tie and gave my mom something she would never wear. We're OK, and I like it that way.

I can has kitteez?

2007-12-13T14:34:00.001-06:00

You know you really do possess a crazy cat lady personality when the person you're dating tells you that of all his friends, you are most likely to become one. And when the same person calls to tell you he just went to PetCo and saw "you" in 20 years driving an SUV appliqued with a wanna-be school honor roll sticker dedicated to a collection of cats instead of children driven by a woman wearing nurse's scrubs covered in cats dressed as nurses. "That's gonna be you, Katy!" Yep. My life is awesome.

Excuse me, I have to go balance my checkbook now. And buy some cat litter. And write out my Christmas letter in which I detail the ailments of my favorite pets. OK, that's all. K, bah.

moar funny pictures

Welcome to Costco*

2007-12-10T22:52:00.000-06:00

*If you haven't seen Idiocracy, well, you need to watch it. It'll change your life. Although, admittedly, that title still wouldn't matter unless you'd been hanging out with me lately, even if you HAD seen the movie. Just watch it, OK?

Wow. I totally did it again. I've gone a freaking week without posting. And I know you all feel sufficiently detoxed from the Katy love, but wait. Take one more hit. Seriously. I'm going to try again. And you should, too. All the cool kids are doing it.

I'm totally getting sick right now. It's this weird little throat thing that I don't actually admit that I have. Actually, that sentence might be the first time I've admitted I might actually be sick. Except for the time about an hour ago when I begrudgingly went into a Walgreen's and bought some cough drops to supplement my echinacea and vitamin C routine. Which, admittedly, probably only works if one gets enough sleep in addition to taking said echinacea and vitamin C and drinking lots of water and eating healthfully. I am not getting enough sleep. A recent conversation went something like this:

B: Do you need to go home? I don't want you to get sick.
K: I'm a big girl, and I make my own decisions. I'll leave when the movie is over.
B: OK, but it's like a long drive home and it's late and you get sick if you don't sleep, according to one, you.
K: Please don't boss me around. Also, I'm hanging out with you so that means you get a souvenir! Here, have some of my sick-o cooties.
B: Yes, please! I love souvenirs!

Obviously, this conversation is a bit ironic because aforementioned person is the main reason I'm not getting a TON of sleep lately. I mean, I wasn't getting a lot of sleep before I started spending every spare second with an uncommonly tall man who owns a poodle because I just don't usually sleep enough. But now the problem is worse. That bitch.

OK, obviously that's not how the exactly how the conversation went, but I swear that was the general IDEA. It's all about issues, people. Ideas! Onward! Anyway, I might be getting sick. I'm sure those around me (which lately means only one other person whom I just can't seem to annoy into getting tired of me) will love this post about cooties and being sick-ish and only admitting I freaking need more sleep when other peoples' lives are at stake.

I'm switching gears now. Like on a bicycle in a triathlon.

Did you like that athletic reference? I feel like it's really about to be my turn. Because I've been running? Oh, um, well, no, not actually. I mean, I RAN the other day. (Of course, immediately after running, I ate a chili dog, so I pretty much broke even.) But, I've been thinking about running a LOT lately.

And I'm going to do it more. As soon as I get some more sleep. Actually, I can totally run tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. Thank God. I'm just stuck right there at three miles. I just don't feel like pushing through that wall. Or I didn't until yesterday.

Sunday, I watched runners (including aforementioned person I can't seem to annoy to the point where he doesn't want to date me) take on the White Rock Marathon (or, in his case, HALF marathon) here in Dallas. And you know what? It was freaking incredible. I saw the Kenyan elite runners take off for the half-marathon, and I saw some of the other Kenyan elite runners finish the full marathon at the same time as the normal, not professional half-marathon runners were coming down the home stretch. Can you imagine running 26 miles in less than two hours? Because I saw people who did it. I saw one man collapse maybe 25 yards from the finish line, crawl on his hands and knees for a few steps and then pull himself to his feet again to limp to the finish. Obviously, that man wasn't Kenyan, but it was totally a "Chariots of Fire" moment. I read that one woman who raced Sunday actually ran in the Athens Olympics in 2004. She placed 51st, but still! She ran in an Olympic marathon!

Anyway, am I ever going to be an elite runner? No. I know you're all thinking I could totally take on the Kenyans, but I kind of like having a little junk in my trunk. Regardless, my own version of a running feat is coming up far too quickly. I'm not prepared, but I did read about how interest in running always spikes after the Rock. And I'm hoping that's the case for me. Although, if I do happen to go another week without posting, just know I'm probably sufficiently enjoying myself.

The C word

2007-12-02T23:29:00.000-06:00

In chapel at John Brown University, where I went to college, speakers and worship leaders and campus pastors tossed around one word more than any other. They spoke it as if by acknowledging it, no one could help but feeling it: community.

My friends and I usually made fun of all the "community talk." We also sometimes mocked the sweet woman who led the prayers during "community chapel," not realizing how much we would miss this community when we left its safety.

My junior year, a guy named Richie Sullivan wore a gold kilt and white T-shirt to senior chapel. And when the chapel leaders opened up microphones for anyone who wanted to say anything about JBU, he went to the front and said, quite irreverently, that the one thing he would miss the least was all the talk about community. I'm pretty sure he took off his shirt and had the word written and circled on his chest and covered with a red letter X to denote his anti-community-propaganda status.

I think that he thought it madness to use a word to try to bring about a certain turn of events. And I sort of think we might all have realized that community wasn't something we could force. It just sort of happened when we weren't looking, when we made mac and cheese at 2 a.m. and sat in the hallways of the dorms talking and gathered week in and week out to watch a mediocre TV show.

I am struggling once again with that elusive C word. I think it might have something to do with the fact that even though I attend a church that I like and where I learn, I'm still missing something. A spiritual link to anything beyond the Sunday evening services. I keep promising myself I will get involved in a home group but then I remember that home groups scare me, that maintaining the status quo protects me from disappointment and heartache.

And I get frustrated with big church and small group because neither reminds me of the vision I have of the New Testament church, the vision that mainly includes eating meals with other people and talking about things God is doing and why they annoy or overjoy us.

And yet, I've been taking risks lately, existing in a sliver of possibility that Something big could happen. It's incredibly ironic to me that even though I live in the Bible Belt, I still feel disconnected from God's people. Maybe it's time for another risk.

Yes?

When God ran out of filters

2007-12-02T12:03:00.000-06:00

As it turns out, I have no filter whatsoever. Yesterday, I blurted out that the guy who was with Natalie Holloway in Aruba looked like a big douchbag while watching Fox News with boyfriend and his dad. I still stand by that statement, but I also thinking everyone on Fox News is weird. I kind of hate Fox News, and the fact that we were watching a special called "Mystery in Paradise" kind of makes me cringe. And yet, I couldn't rip my eyes away.

Anyway, we were watching Fox News. And I blurted out the thing about Joran van der Sloot looking sort of like a douchebag type guy, kind of a player, and instantly remember that I am not hanging out with my friends at a bar but at boyfriend's house with his family and suddenly feel like I should have been born with something, a filter that God apparently ran out of when he got to me.

This isn't the first time I've said something aloud to his family only to realize seconds later how it could have been interpreted and sound a little rude. Or a lot rude. And now I feel awful, worried that there's some sort of defense mechanism that makes me this way, that screams for me to use biting sarcasm and banter in everyday conversation with people I barely know as if they already know me and know I'm joking.

So, anyway. Thoughts? Any of you made any comments like that where the moment they roll off your tongue you realize how much of an asshole you might be? Because it happens to me all the time. And I just hate feeling like an asshole at the end of the day.

Yes. And thanks.

2007-11-27T23:12:00.000-06:00

I know, I know. It's just, I've been busy. And I'm really happy with the business that's going on in my life right now. Happy like I won't tell you about it because it might make you throw up a little bit in your mouths. And no one enjoys that. Ick.

In honor of the one year anniversary of the death of Nathan Taylor, undoubtedly one of those rare people who seemed to be an expert on living to the fullest, I've been out living these past few weeks. Living and enjoying so much that I haven't had time to blog about it anyway. And, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph, some of the stuff I've been enjoying might make you throw up with how sappy it is.

One of my favorite bloggers, Shauna over at Gluten Free Girl, would say I've just been saying yes to life lately. And I couldn't agree more.

Anyway. I've been spending a lot of time with a lot of good people. Some of them you know, some of them you don't. Some of them I don't know very well yet, but I hope to eventually. And I've been hanging out with my family. And who has time to blog on a holiday weekend?

Carole was home this weekend. We had some good times drinking overpriced Starbucks coffee and hanging out at the mall at 6 a.m. on Friday. We agreed never to do that again. But, we both bought some stinkin' cute jeans for very little money. And we ate lots of good food with family.

You know what is nice? Making food for other people. My mother and I made dinners for a woman I work with whose husband has cancer. This morning, I took the two meals with me to work and put them in the fridge. I went to find Geraldine at her desk and told her what I brought and to not forget it when she goes home and she raved on and on about how my mother and I managed to cook two of her husband's favorite foods in one dish: cabbage and kielbasa. I think they must be German like we are, so they like that sort of thing. Lucky guess. Anyway, my mother and I liked that. So, I think beginning this week, we are going to try making one meal each week for someone who is sick. Doesn't that sound good? It's the only kind of mission-ish thing I know how to do. I can't share the Gospel or witness to people or teach Greek because I'm not good on the soul-winning tours, but I can cook for people and clean their kitchens. And I'm happy with that.

Because I fear a roundhouse kick to the face

2007-11-19T20:58:00.000-06:00

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I think a part of my soul was waiting for something this awesome to come along. I wrote a story about Gov. Mike Huckabee's visit to Plano a couple of weeks ago, and I got really sad for him because I don't think he will ever be President. Listen, if you disagree, consider that Rudy Giuliani has been endorsed by Pat Robertson, the ultimate conservative after Jerry (Homosexual Steamrollers Are Literally Crushing America!) Falwell. The conservative vote is sure to be split like Voldemort's soul. After today, I'm hopeful Huckabee has a shot.

The thing that's awesome about this video is hearing Gov. Huckabee (whom I kind of love) explain that Chuck Norris isn't pushing himself up when he does push-ups but is instead pushing the earth down. And that Chuck Norris doesn't have a chin behind his beard, only another fist.

I think I would vote for Mike Huckabee based solely upon this endorsement. God knows it wouldn't be on the basis of the Reverend title we can add in front of his name or the uber-moral majority support he qualifies for. Nope. Basically, there are only two candidates whose tax policies I agree with: Mike Huckabee and Ron Paul. And who the hell knows which one of them will gain any political traction whatsoever? Not me. But, I'll say one thing: I sure as hell don't want to risk a roundhouse kick to the face by voting for the wrong guy.

I heart veterans and other tools of self-distraction

2007-11-12T21:49:00.000-06:00

So, sometimes, things happen to me that I really just want to talk about all the time and I forget that not everyone in my life wants to talk about it and I start to annoy people who are sick of hearing that same damn story for the hundredth time this week.

Have I mentioned I repeat myself?

Anyway, it's finally gotten to the point where I'm starting to annoy even myself that I pick up the phone and call JenA every time something even remotely cool happens related to this thing that I want to talk about.

And I'm just not ready to talk about it on here yet. Which is why I'm using all this super-cool stealth-like language so you have no idea what I'm talking about. Except that some of you, too many of you, do, in fact, know what the hell I'm talking about and are probably just sitting in front of your computers laughing at me and reading this. No?

OK, so I'm not going to talk about it except to say I'm done talking about it, and I'm sorry for being an annoying boob this week. I can't really help it.

But. I am going to talk about something else. Because talking is my specialty. I'm going to talk about Veteran's Day. I know, I know. It's totally almost over, and I've almost missed posting about it. But! This morning, there was a news report on NPR about President Bush's visit to Crawford this weekend. The President spent the day sitting among the families of fallen troops, one of whom was Gunnery Sgt. John Fry, about whom I wrote the most difficult story I've ever written ever. Ever. Here's the lede, if you don't remember:

Family remembers selfless Marine killed in Iraq as a humble patriot
By Katy Moore Tribune-Herald staff writer
Published March 11, 2006

Gunnery Sgt. John D. Fry was due to return home from Iraq to his wife and three children on March 15, just days before the three-year anniversary of the start of the war. But the diligent Marine who specialized in defusing explosive devices was killed Wednesday after he volunteered to disarm a bomb in Iraq's war-torn Al Anbar province.

You can read the rest of the story on WacoTrib.com or here at this military Web site if you don't feel like going through the registration process on the Trib's site.

Seriously, I cried all the way through the interview with Fry's wife, Malia, who was present during the ceremony. It was pretty crappy to have to ask, "So, how did your husband feel about the conflict?" and have her automatically assume I was going to write something anti-military.

Oh, I know there are some who are all scared of some military-industrial complex, but, um, I sometimes question whether Those People have ever even met a soldier.

So, today, even though I'm a journalist and supposedly all impartial and whatnot, I'd just like to say that I really like days like Veteran's Day. Whenever I meet people who have served, particularly the older men who served in World War II or Vietnam, I just kind of smile, watching their patriotism in action as they present the colors at a city council meeting, dressed in smartly tailored American Legion regalia, knowing they would go back 50 or 60 years if asked and take the same hits all over again.

In other news, I can't tell you what I really think

2007-11-07T21:06:00.000-06:00

I wish to high heaven I could tell you what I really think of the Trinity River Corridor issue put to Dallas voters yesterday. Seriously. I wish I could explain to you the importance of voting yes for no and no for yes. Get it? No? Me neither.

See, a yes vote meant no. No to a toll road through a pretty park on a shitty "river." Yes, "river" as opposed to actual river since the Trinity is more like a drainage ditch. And, um, ew, I don't want to hang out down there.

A no vote meant build that damn road because I'm still stuck in this effing traffic and probably will be until the friggen 4th of July, mother effers.

Neither option made me feel all that jazzed up, probably because by the time election day hits every May and November, I'm just too annoyed to care, y'all.

(Also, right now, it's only 9 p.m. But because I just got home from the happiest of hours, I'm sort of unable to type stuff.)

(If I had a camera handy, I might post pictures of mah shoes or somefins.)

O, hai. I's been drinky drinkin. Whatevs.

Stupid election day. It just does this to me. I'm too tired to think or type property. Properly. Shit. I imagine this must be how Angela Hunt feels right now. Poor lady. Bottoms up, I say.

The old moral question answered

2007-11-04T15:46:00.000-06:00

This morning, I ran a race, the Susan G. Komen Race For the Cure in Austin. I drove to Austin last night after a wedding mainly because I told Kathleen I would run it with her. We've both been training (or, in my case, "training") for the Texas Independence Relay, which we plan to run March 1 and 2, almost exactly four months away.

Anyway, we've talked back and forth about how we need to do some smaller races to motivate each other, hold each other accountable. You know, make sure we don't just sign up to race this 200-freaking-mile relay and then have to walk the whole thing because we haven't trained properly.

The last 5K I intended to run, I had to cancel due to a scheduling conflict. I had to be at a wedding last night, so I drove straight to Austin in my little black dress and heels. I could have backed out of this race. I sort of wanted to. But, as God is my witness, I knew I needed to run. Also, Kathleen was already in Austin waiting for me to show up.

There's something pretty great about waking up and running because someone else is doing it, too. I know there's that saying about how if all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do it, too? It totally works for events like this race.

Did I run just because Kathleen could run without stopping and I didn't want to be the lame ass who gave up? Kind of. But I also finished the freaking race without stopping and at a decent pace. So, in answer to the question, if all my friends jumped off a cliff, I probably would. I mean, what's down there?

All that and a minature-dog carrier

2007-10-29T12:37:00.000-05:00

I often look around the, um, a lot opulent community in which I work and wonder if everyone really can afford to live that way. From my office building on Oak Lawn Avenue, I can walk across the street to the most expensive bridal boutique in the city. On another adjacent corner sits one of the most popular steakhouses in Dallas, another institution. A few miles away, one of the region's most profitable shopping centers sits, complete with stores like Barneys and Neiman's.

And I work with a lot of people who live according to a certain standard, a standard I myself can't afford and doubt very much I would elevate myself to even if I could afford it.

People here in Dallas wear their money proudly, almost like military insignia, honors from their battles. And I am sometimes certain that other people would not live this way if they could not afford to pay cash for everything. And I sort of feel like if I behave in a certain way or dress a certain way or mingle in certain parts of town, it might be possible to sort of actualize myself into actually being capable of living that certain lifestyle.

It's crazy, huh? This is about when one realizes that clothes do not make the man. Money does not make anyone anything unless you save it and don't spend it. But to BE someone, this Uptown Bubble tells me, you must display it, prove to everyone that you belong.

And I so don't. I mean, I drive a decent car and I think I dress nicely. I get pedicures sometimes just as a treat and I enjoy eating out and shopping at nice stores and, in short, participating in a life I can't really afford (a perk to which my job sort of entitles me).

But. I don't belong. And, admittedly, sometimes I look around at the beautiful estates, the lifestyle I can't keep up with, the one I scoff at but secretly envy, and I wish I could afford it. And I feel almost inadequate to be where I am, among these beautiful people with their Louis Vuitton handbags and Ferraris and expensive homes and plastic surgery.

Most of the time, I can keep it straight, and I'm not fooled when even the most obviously of those who Don't Belong act as if they do. But sometimes, it's hard for me to remember the wisdom of frugality, something I've tried to make my mantra lately.

So, when people mention in my presence, without knowing I am eavesdropping, how completely broke they are, how unable they are to afford their current lifestyle, I feel so much more content knowing that even though I feel inadequate, I have everything I need and nothing I don't. And that I'm paying down my credit cards, one week at a time. And I don't feel nearly as tired as they must be trying to keep up.

In other, unrelated but loosely tied business the Dave mentioned in this post gave his life to Christ this weekend. I have only ever been in some small way involved in only one conversion before. I have never "shared my testimony" with anyone other than people who already knew it, and I have never gone on any sort of soul-winning tour.

Just after graduation from high school, I met a guy named Dean on my senior trip to Europe with three of my closest girlfriends. He knew the four of us were Christians, but we didn't do any soul-winning bullshit. He and I kept in touch, and he later told me he gave his life to Christ and how much he appreciated the four of us. For what, I've never been exactly sure, but I think he was appreciative of the fact that none of us quoted Scripture at him (that I know of, anyway).

So, anyway. Today, Dave (that would be Dave number 87) told me that he gave his life to Christ. And he thanked me for "lighting the fire," whatever that means. And I didn't do anything except invite him to church with me this one tiny time. And if any of you reading this say anything like, "Good for you Katy," I might have to throw myself in front of a moving Hummer outside my Uptown office because that is so not the point. The point is, I felt so included. Not included by Dave (number 87), but included by God. Included in a great eternal secret. Sort of like he was telling me, "Katy, I am real, and today this is how I am going to tell you about that."

It sort of started out as just an escape route

2007-10-25T19:17:00.000-05:00

So, I know I've said it multiple times, but I'd like to reiterate that I love my job. I especially love the company I work for, which is such a breath of fresh air after the last bullshit company I worked for.

Anywho, today, it was decided that my dad needs to have surgery. He's having that surgery tomorrow, and my editors just stared at me as I tried to explain How Much Freaking Work I have to do and how I still want to be around tomorrow to hang out with my mom while the doctors work on my dad. All three just sort of looked at me like I was nuts and said, "Um, just turn in what you can by Tuesday. Also, you should take Friday off."

I know this is just sort of normal if you work for a normal, professional company. But I used to work for a company that would not have done this logical thing of saying, hey, so your family is important, do what you need to do.

So yeah. Prayers for dad tomorrow. Thanks.

And you thought he was flamboyant just because he was a wizard

2007-10-23T20:27:00.000-05:00

OK, OK. I'm sorry. I'm back. At least for the next five minutes. It's just I've been busy being tired. Like unbelievably exhausted and sort of like I'll never in my life finish all I need to finish in order to become effective and excellent at my job. I'm totally ready for retirement. I would be a great retiree. Or a great trust fund baby. Whichever.

Anyway, the reason I'm coming out of hiding for a whole five minutes is that I need to talk about Harry Potter. Actually, I need to talk about Dumbledore. And I need to talk about how very annoyed I am with J.K. Rowling for stating that Albus Dumbledore was undoubtedly gay, that he was in love with the dark wizard Grindelwald and gay as gay can be.

Why am I annoyed? No, it's not because I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea. It's because I'm mad at J.K. Rowling for springing that on us all that late in the game. It just doesn't seem fair. I had always pictured Dumbledore as a grandfatherly type, kind of asexual and almost the Christ figure in the series, much like I thought of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandalf or (much more obviously) Aslan.

And I'm annoyed for one more important reason: I really like when fiction can go on in my head. Granted, as an author, I'm quite sure J.K. Rowling wants to prevent anyone in the future from writing continuations of the series or prequels. Whatever. But, whenever I finish a book, part of the beauty of it is that I get to imagine for myself what happens next based on how I've come to know the characters. It doesn't seem fair that every time I read a Harry Potter book, my reading of it will be colored by this revelation that Dumbledore was gay.

There are all sorts of arguments in literary theory about author intent. D.H. Lawrence's short story "The Rocking Horse Winner" comes to mind, as it is often viewed from a Freudian or even Marxist perspective. Take your pick of literary approaches when it comes to stories like that. But, to my knowledge, Lawrence never said for sure what it meant for her character to "be lucky" in the story. (Sorry to those who have never read the story as this is likely sliding over your heads.) Did it represent an Oedipal desire for the young boy in the story to replace his father? Was Lawrence making a political statement, owing to a Marxist interpretation of the text?

I don't know! But, when it comes to something like Harry Potter, I don't think saying, definitively, that Dumbledore was gay really accomplishes anything in furthering the dialogue of literary texts. Instead, I think it establishes a type of absolute. Rest assured, never, in a class on contemporary children's literature, will a student muse aloud, "Could Dumbledore possibly have been gay?" much to the fascination of peers and professors with this interesting theory. That question already is answered.

A little like Wacko

2007-10-17T21:43:00.000-05:00

I had a great conversation with my good friend Dave Gurley this evening. And it brought up the topic of if only. As in, if only I could have all my friends in one place, like a compound which we could all live on together brewing our own beer and spending a lot of time smoking hookah.

Honestly, can you think of much that sounds better? And, of course, I would have won the lottery and we'd all be living in this compound for free and just living on love. Not free love, but just doing life together. Kind of like I wish could be the way people do church. Seriously, it's the best idea ever. And if ever I DO win the lottery, THAT'S what I'm doing with my millions.

Of course, the problem with my whole compound idea is that it could only apply to a select group of people. My compound would include the PDX clan, friends from college, friends from high school, friends from Waco, friends from random environments, friends I met through other friends.

It's such an odd assortment of people. I love them each so much, but the problem with my compound idea is that none of these people really know each other. I mean, all the PDX people know each other. All the Waco people know each other. The newspaper kids know each other. The college kids know each other. And each group has people that dip into other groups. But not everyone mixes and jives, and this I find annoying.

Why? Because it means that at no other time in my life other than right now will I be content. I don't mean right NOW like at 9:51 p.m. on Wednesday at the time of this writing. I mean that with each new venture in my life, each time I am supposedly living for This Moment, there are people and places and experiences I can't imagine topping ever.

When Lauren and I went to Europe just after our junior year in high school, I couldn't imagine ever having a closer friend. We were like sisters, and in some ways we still are. But, we all change and other people come into our lives according to where we are and what needs we have.

I still love my best guy friends, Brandon and Keith, as though they were brothers. We have this bond that allows them to say, "Um, Katy, what did you see in that douche bag?" or allows me to say, "Seriously? She's not that hot, and you can do better."

In college, I grew close to Spring and Sarah. Through Spring I met Gurley, whom I miss terribly and about whom I often wonder, "Will he ever find a woman?" and kind of worry. Eventually, I became close with Nicole, Mel, Amy, Natalie and Mandy. The six of us still keep in touch almost daily, bouncing around an email chain that started almost two years ago. Through Nicole, I met David, who just kind of has a standing reservation in my life because he's fantastic and I will drop most anything to spend time with him if he is in town.

I grew close to a group of quirky writers, journalists like myself. And I still keep in touch with them. On Monday, Evie met Dubya, and we were all so proud of her.

My best friend from Waco is a girl named Jen who I thought was sort of a bitch at first but whom I now adore and for whom I am terribly thankful, for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that no one really gets my family like she does. Also? She's the friend who broke her ankle because she got drunk and fell down. Can there be cooler people?

I have these amazing people in my life. Gawd, the list could go ON and ON. Tonight, though, I choose to stop. And I'm going to go to sleep now. Mostly because when I told Gurley about the compound idea and how I wished I could have all my friends living together at least in the same town if not on the same property, he asked, "You mean, like a cult?" And I kind of wondered how much Wacko Waco rubbed off on me.

But, here's my idea. Someday, when I win the lottery or inherit a shit-ton of money from a distant relative, I want everyone there. I want you all to come stay with me on my compound in Texas. And, though I am almost certain this hazy idea will never come to fruition, I am confident that the idea in my brain? it is one where everyone, including people I am parted from, will get along and love each other.

And I imagine this must be a little what Heaven will be like. For now, good night. I love you.

Because it hasn't been a Monday already

2007-10-15T21:30:00.000-05:00

I walked into my bedroom this evening and marveled at how musty and funky my laundry smelled for only being washed, um, yesterday. True, I did throw it on the floor, as is my custom, rather than folding it up and putting it away. But, man, after a 14-hour work day, I didn't really want to clean up laundry and fold things.

And to make matters worse, the smell turned out to be from where the dog decided to crap on my bedroom floor. As if he doesn't have an entire backyard in which to do his business. As if it hasn't been one of those days already. Monday. The day I go to yet another city business meeting and try really, really hard to not sleep and try really, really hard to find Something about which to write a freaking story when sometimes there just isn't anything.

But, I digress.

(One time, I wrote "I digress" in a column for my college newspaper. When I turned it in to Mr. Warner for an actual grade, he wrote "Yes, you do" next to the part where I admitted my digression. But I really don't think he got it. I'm just sayin'.)

OK. What was I talking about? Oh, yes. Dog crap. I'm never getting a dog unless I live in a place where there is no carpet. Because carpet is the worst. Granted, I'm not sure how happy I would be with my dog had he crapped on beautiful hardwood floors or even laminate flooring. But, something tells me it would be easier to clean up. And something tells me it would be much easier to do all that green living hooey on wooden floors rather than carpet. Hmph. This is just what comes of living in a 1980s vintage house in FloMo and having a dog who can't just Hold It and now feels ashamed. I hope.

Lola should totally do this

2007-10-10T22:42:00.000-05:00

OK, about 10 days ago, Radiohead announced its latest album was complete on its Web site. That was on Oct. 1. Today, Oct. 10, I and countless other listeners downloaded the album directly from the band's Web site. It was not available anywhere else. Radiohead directed listeners to name their own price.

So, I'm sitting here listening to it and sort of marvelling at how Radiohead have basically cut out the middle man almost entirely. No record company. Just them and those who wish to listen to their music. Pretty basic and pretty cool. When's the last time you got to decide how much anything was worth for yourself?

I'll let you know how I like it, but I'll go ahead and say this: the record industry already wishes Steve Jobs would just go away. I imagine this isn't heartwarming news either.

Lola, you should totally offer your music from your blog. Can you do that? Anybody? Beuhler?

I think I went on a trip recently.

2007-10-08T21:35:00.000-05:00

Oh, wait. No, it was a whole damn month ago. And I haven't posted the pictures yet.

I think part of the reason I waited was because for the first two weeks after my return from the O.C., my shins/ankles/calves were burnt to a crisp. I've never in my life had pretty feet. They were always crammed into some sort of ballet footwear, frequently blistered from all the dancing and generally just not pretty. So, add in the sunburn, and you can likely see why it took a bit to get over the sheer embarrassment of being referred to as Cankle Katy. No kidding.

But, I'm over it now. Enjoy!

Batchelorette fun with the Disco Bride.

Jessika and me at her super fun reception, one of the most enjoyable I've been to, actually.

Thriller. Brandon's friends were asked not to return to a certain karaoke bar in Hollywood.

Chino and me after spending an afternoon in Hollywood. Which is where we saw some famous people and enjoyed Seinfeld moments.

The remains of the Balboa Bar, which, by the way, does not even come close to the level of deliciousness of Blue Bell ice cream. I'm just sayin'.

And, finally, Cankle Katy.

That's all I got. Howdjalikethat?

When life hands you lemons, use 'em to clean stuff

2007-10-06T14:17:00.000-05:00

This week, I read this really gnarly story about some crazy hard-working spiders near Fort Worth that build giant spiderwebs. The webs were discovered by park rangers at Lake Tawokoni State Park. Researchers took samples from different parts of the 200-yard conglomerate webbing and believe thousands of spiders of different species worked together to build the web.

I don't know about you, but reading that story made my skin crawl. I actually tore back my sheets the day I read the story on Oct. 2, an update on an earlier report about the initial discovery of the webs, just to make sure there weren't any spiders in my bed. I think you know where I am going with this.

Clearly, spiders are probably taking over the earth, or at least the Metroplex. And I'd like to keep the pests out of my house, thanks very much. But, if there's anything I dislike more than spiders and pests, it's the thought of polluting the earth and causing Ozone depletion in my quest to blast them out of my living space. Also, spiders do have a good use and help get rid of other bugs, so I want them at bay not all dead.

(I know, I know. I sound like a commercial. Deal with it.)

Anyway, here's an idea for keeping pests out of your home.

Get a sponge and dampen it with water. Wring out the excess and drop 6-8 drops of peppermint or citronella essential oil on the sponge. Use that to wipe out your cabinets or pantry. Use a few drops of those same essential oils around windows, window sills, doors, doorway cracks, etc. to keep away critters.

Bugs in general can be repelled by placing a few bay leaves in places where they like to hang out. Cabinets, pantries, attics, etc.

And, finally, spiders dislike eucalyptus and citrus. Get rid of cardboard boxes and junk where spiders can next in attics and such. Next, do the same thing with eucalyptus oil or lemon essential oil and a sponge as above. Wipe down wooden window sills, etc. where spiders can enter your house.

I'm either John Kerry, a carb-a-licious breakfast food or a popular form of summer footware

2007-10-04T19:07:00.000-05:00

OK, so I think I've maybe spelled out my personality before to the Internets. If you missed that part, well, I'm an INFP, also known as the "Healer Idealist." That stands for Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving. It also stands for Katy SUCKS ASS at decision-making.

In the 2004 election, I would have been the flip flopper or waffler and we just can't have that, can we? The judges? They are quick decision-makers. I, on the other hand, live in constant fear of making the wrong choice.

I will buy a pair of pants for $60, wear them once and then return them because I'm just not sure I made the best decision in buying them. I. HAVE. DONE. THIS. Ask Sarah McCrary. I'm pretty sure she was my roommate at the time.

On a related note, because pants are just as important as relationships, I constantly go back and forth on whether or not I made the right decision in any relational situation. Like OMGSHOULDIHAVESHUTTHATGUYDOWN? Or OMGWHYDOSHENOTLIKEMEITHOUGHTWEISFRIENDS?

The P part of my personality type means that I like to withhold judgement until the last possible second of my life and would consider maybe holding out on all further decision-making until I'm on my deathbed just to keep all my options open and not make a horrible mistake I will regret for the rest of my life. Which will probably eventually equate to about five seconds of living with No Regrets.

I also hate conflict. And I kind of even hate saying that I hate conflict because a small part of me thinks maybe I should be more open-minded toward Conflict because it can teach me stuff! It builds character!

(Yes, I really AM this ridiculous. It's part of my charm.)

I found this thing online about what an INFP looks like. I think it gives a pretty good explanation as to why the hell I am a writer and not, say, someone who makes a lot of decisions every day. It makes me so glad I'm not a bartender serving nothing but people who say things like, "Surprise me!" because then I would have to make other peoples' decisions for them.

INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper. INFPs also appear frequently in social service professions, such as counselling or teaching. They are at their best in situations where they're working towards the public good, and in which they don't need to use hard logic.

Hold please. I must take another shot of tequila because it's just so friggen' true.

Clearly, I have lost my mind, so if you find it, please be so kind as to mail it back to me. And if you happen to be good at the decision-making? I would be happy to let you make some of my decisions just for kicks. Really! They're not that hard. I just make them seem about as complicated as the Geneva Convention, for crying out loud.

Because Erin brought it up in a comment and because I could use a laugh, let's all reflect on Alanis Morissette singing "My Humps" which is so much weirder than the Black Eyed Peas singing it in the first place which was bad enough. I heart parody!

Today at the office

2007-10-03T18:55:00.000-05:00

It would have been really funny to pick up that sandwich on my co-worker's desk, plate and all, and dash off with it while he wasn't looking if it hadn't backfired on me terribly. Turns out, the plate had only recently emerged from the microwave. I escaped with singed hands but I emitted a definite yelp. I must learn to be more stealth, even while cooking my finger tips to a toasty medium well.

I know this doesn't really count as a blog post. There are things to discuss, but I'm too busy at the moment. For now, just content yourself watching the opening scene from last week's episode of "The Office" in honor of my burnt fingers and personal office moron moment. Too bad Jim isn't "looking" anymore. Sigh.

It's in there somewhere!

2007-10-01T21:56:00.000-05:00

What I want to know is: Why is it that the evangelical church seems to tell women that they must learn to be "content in their singleness" before God brings someone into their life when the Bible says "seek and ye shall find"? Thoughts?

Apparently, posts about the cost of commercially produced cleaning products compared with homemade or so-called "green" cleaning products don't go over so well.

This week is zero-out-to-eat-or-drinks-or-coffee week. I've also committed myself to creating a budget. I lead a very exciting life, clearly.

Now with new radiant action, betch

2007-09-28T13:53:00.001-05:00

So, I pretty much love it when all the research of a green tip is done for me. I feel like my duty with this little Friday venture, the one about posting information on how to live green, well, the best I can do is read a lot about it. You know, like in the news and stuff. And then share what I find with you.

As a side note, I'm supposed to be getting my car back tonight. This is a good thing because I almost hit someone in the West Village parking garage earlier today. And in the Mockingbird Station parking lot early this morning. And in our Oaklawn office building's parking garage right after our quarterly meeting thing this morning. It's been a busy day. I'm leaving early just to reduce the chances of hitting someone with my mom's boat of a car.

P.S. This story really pissed me off. As if Americans don't already have enough debt?

http://www.usatoday.com/money/industries/banking/2007-09-27-credit-cards_N.htm

Today, I'm sharing an article from a writer who compares, ounce for ounce, the cost of green cleaning vs. homemade vs. commercial cleaners.
_______________________________

Be clean and green on a budget
By Annie B. Bond

A common refrain I hear is that "Green cleaning is too expensive!" It actually isn't.

Here is what I found by comparing, ounce-for-ounce, prices for twelve types of mainstream cleaning products, their green
counterparts, and the make-your-own versions using kitchen cupboard ingredients.

The cheapest green soluation? Use both concentrated green cleaners and homemade cleaners.

Note: CONCENTRATED PRODUCTS - What this means.
Concentration is part of the green cleaners' environmental strategy: a concentrated cleaner requires less packaging to deliver the same results. All you might need of a green cleaner is one tablespoon, whereas the mainstream counterpart would use 1/4 to ½ cup.

COMPARING THE COSTS
Standard Cleaners vs. Store-bought Green Cleaners

So-called "green" products are highlighted with **.

-Prices for homemade formulas are based on these costs for the four basic ingredients:
vinegar: 1 quart @ 44 cents
Baking soda: 1 pound @ 57 cents
Washing soda: 1 pound @ 63 cens
Vegetable-oil-based soap: 1 quart @ $4

Note also that the tradeoff for a green product versus a standard product may be health, and a few cents can be worth if it you avoid synthetic perfumes and other problematic chemicals.

WINDOWS
Windex 26 oz @$3.30 — Windex $4.06/qt
Glass Plus 32 oz @$2.59 — Glass Plus $2.59/qt
**Bi-o-kleen 32 oz @ $4.20 — Bi-o-kleen $4.20/qt
**Earth Rite 22 oz @ $4.10 — Earth Rite $5.96/qt
**EarthFriendly 22 oz @$4.00 — EarthFriendly $5.81/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: 3.32/qt
Green: $5.25
Homemade: $.08

SCOURING
Comet 14 oz @ $.70 — Comet $.80/lb
**Washing Soda 56 oz @ $2.19 — Washing Soda $.63/lb
**Baking Soda 1 pound @ $.57 — Baking Soda: $.57

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $.80/lb
Green: $.60
Homemade: $.57

SOFT SCRUBS
Soft Scrub: 24 oz. @ $3.39 — Soft Scrub $2.26/qt
**Ecover Cream: 32 oz @ $4.80 — Ecover Cream $2.40/
**7th Generation Cream 20 0z @ $4.00 — 7th Gen. Cream $3.20/

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $2.26/qt
Green: $2.80
Homemade: $2.04

TUB & TILE
Lysol - 29 oz. @ $2.89 — Lysol $3.19/qt
Tilex 32 oz @ $3.99 — Tilex $3.99/qt
**7th Generation 32 oz @ $5.00 — 7th Generation Cream $5.00/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $3.59/qt
Green: $5.00
Homemade: $1.75

LAUNDRY LIQUID
Wisk 100 oz: $7.79 — Wisk $2.49/qt
Cheer 100 oz - $7.59 — Cheer $2.43/qt
ALL 100 oz - $5.89 — ALL $1.88/qt
**7th Gen: 100 oz - $12.90 — 7th Gen. $4.13/qt
**Ecos: 50 oz - $8.80 — Ecos $5.63/qt
**Earth Rite 50 oz.-$8.40 — Earth Rite $5.38/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $2.26/qt
Green: $5.04 (Note that the green laundry liquids are concentrated, so
for a true price divide this number in half.)
Homemade: NA

LAUNDRY POWDER
Tide 175 oz @$16.99 — Tide $1.55/lb
ALL - 4 lbs 14 oz @ $8.29 — ALL $1.70/lb
**7th: 112 oz. @$10.20 — 7th $1.46/lb

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $1.62/lb
Green: $1.46
Homemade: NA

LIQUID DISH
Dawn: 32 oz @2.84 — Dawn $2.84/qt
Joy 32 oz@2.93 — Joy $2.93/qt
**Ecover :32 oz @ $3.30 — Ecover $3.30/qt
**7th: 28 oz @ $4.00 — 7th Generation $4.57/qt
**Citra-Dish: 28 oz @ $4.20 — Citra-Dish $4.80/qt
**Bi-o-kleen: 32 oz. @ $5.80 — Bi-o-kleen $5.80/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $2.88/qt
Green: $4.61
Homemade: NA

AUTOMATIC DISH
Cascade 45 oz @ 2.69 — Cascade $.95/lb
**7th: 50 oz @ $4.85 — 7th Generation$1.55/lb
** Ecover: 48 oz: @ $5.90 — Ecover $1.97/lb

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $.95/lb
Green: $1.27
Homemade: NA

ALL PURPOSE
Fantastik: 32 oz @ $2.89 — Fantastik $2.89/qt
Formula 409 - 32 oz @ $2.99 — Formula 409 $2.99/qt
**Ecover: 16 oz @ $2.75 — Ecover $5.50/qt
**7th Gen. 32 oz @ $4.80 — 7th Gen. $4.80/qt
**Heavenly Horsetail 24 oz. @ $3.00 — Heavenly Horsetail $4.00/qt
**Murphy's 32 oz. @3.29 — Murphy's $3.29/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $2.94/qt
Green: $4.39
Homemade: $.09

FLOORS
Lestoil 28 oz. @ $2.99 — Lestoil $3.42/qt
Pine Sol 28 oz @ $2.29 — Pine Sol $2.62/qt
**Ecover 32 oz @ $4.30 — Ecover $4.30/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $3.02/qt
Green: $4.30
Homemade: $.05

FURNITURE POLISH
Pledge 16 oz @ $3.99 — Pledge $7.98/qt (SPRAY)
Scots 12 oz @ $4.29 — Scots $11.44/qt
**Earth Rite 16 oz $5.00 — Earth Rite $10.00/qt

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $11.44/qt (not the spray)
Green: 10.00/qt
Homemade: $.13

OVEN
Easy Off 16 oz - $3.99 — Easy Off $31.92/lb
**Baking soda — Baking Soda $.57/lb

Average Prices Including Homemade
Standard: $31.92/lb
Green: NA
Homemade: $.57/lb

It's sort of my theme

2007-09-26T22:43:00.000-05:00

I'm sure you were expecting another one of those Jesus posts, but I'm kind of worn out at this point in the week. And sometimes we get burned out on the Jesus talk. And if I write about it too much, y'all probably wouldn't react the way you did to the last post. I try to catch y'all off guard with the Jesus-y stuff.

So, on a much more worldly note, tonight, my colleagues and I are getting together to watch the season premiere of "The Office." Does anyone else see the beauty of this? The office is getting together to watch "The Office." The only way it could be better would be if we were dragging a TV upstairs and watching it from our cubicles.

I'm mostly excited because this office isn't like "The Office." I don't have nearly as many weird stories, but it sure it a much more pleasant place to work.

I made cookies. If they didn't love me already, they sure will after tonight. Muahahahahahaha.

Coming at you from Jesus-land in mah best Southern accent

2007-09-24T21:57:00.000-05:00

A group of scientists at a convention decided they had enough knowledge between them to create a man. They'd learned all the ins and outs of creating folks, so they decided to give it a try.

They went out into a field where there was lots of space to work and got out their shovels. Together they began to dig, bringing together enough dirt to make a man.

And as they began to mold and shape the man, a voice as loud as thunder came down from Heaven and said,

"Hey! Get yer own dirt!"
_______________________________

OK, sorry. I know that was the cheesiest joke ever, but my mom told it to me just this evening. Turns out, that joke is a perfect segway into what I've been thinking about the past 24 hours.

If you've already done the math and gone back 24 hours from right now (Monday evening around 10 p.m.), you've probably figured out that yesterday was Sunday. Which means at some point yesterday, I went to church. And after the church-going, I thought about what I learned at church. You know, after watching the Cowboys trounce Chicago while drinking Bud Light with Keithy-pooh.

Anyway, the church thing. Yesterday, the church pastor, Matt, began a series on Luke's Gospel. I've been kind of looking forward to it all week because I know with this series, Matt's going to go on for a while. In the past few months, he's been spending time on different themes, jumping around a bit and sharing thoughts on specific ideas or tenets of the Christian life but not really staying in one place very long. I'm excited to go straight through a book. And I'm kind of excited because I got there for the beginning and won't have to be lost later on.

Yesterday, a friend visited the church with me. This friend's name is Dave, and he happens to be a bit of a skeptic, much like I was in college. Sure, I believed in God, loved Jesus as my Savior and all that, and so does he. However, I also believed it could all be relative. I think I believed that whole "it's all relative" crap until last year, actually. I sort of felt cruel denouncing the beliefs of others, like I couldn't be a liberal if I believed whole-heartedly in the inerrant nature of the Bible.

I confess that I even thought the Bible could have error in it at some points. Sometimes, I still think that since I can't figure out how the hell the whole election vs. free will thing works out. Bah. Bygones. The point is, even though I'm mostly lost as a goose when it comes to why it all ain't wrong, I still have this gut feeling it's all right, like God's going to explain it to me in the end.

So, last night, we began Luke's Gospel.

I always knew Luke was a doctor. It's one of those things you learn in New Testament Bible classes when you're growing up. Just like how you learn that Matthew wrote his Gospel account for the Jews. Know what I mean? Luke wrote his for the learned, the intellectuals, the skeptics. And I kind of fit right in that group.

(Oh, I know you're all still reading this with Southern accents in your brains, but that doesn't mean I'm not somewhat of an intellectual. Granted, I'm not the smartest pea in the pod, but my job requires me to question everything. And question I do.)

Luke may as well have written just for me, because about this time two years ago, I wondered if maybe this book I was reading about literal and metaphorical approaches to the Gospel might be right on target. Maybe Jesus wasn't born of an actual sexually inexperienced virgin. Maybe Mary was just, I dunno, really dumb. Or maybe she was so pure in heart that she was (um, cue Madonna music here) like a virgin. And maybe Jesus didn't die on a cross literally. Maybe it was all metaphorical, kind of like how he tells his followers throughout the Gospel to die to self. Maybe he was just being hypothetical. And maybe in the metaphorical approach, the Gospel still was true and didn't lose any of its beautiful meaning. It could still be a book of how to do life, even if not everything had happened, right?

I know right now you're all about to pee your pants wondering how the hell I could even think this way. There are a variety of reasons, each as unimportant as the next. The one common tie they all share is that those reasons came from other people, and, in both cases, from people so focused on making allowances for every different pespective that their unwillingness to believe in absolute truth became their absolute truth.

And that's about where last night picked up. Part of me knew it wasn't a coincidence that this other person was there with me, wondering how he got so skeptical and how God knew he'd be there that night listening to a message from the Bible's most skeptical writer. It isn't a coincidence that I can look back on the past five years of my life and wonder how I got so cynical and how God is breaking that down, even still. So much is he still breaking me down that a week ago I cried my eyes out in the middle of the service and had to leave the room so as not to disturb anyone or draw any attention to myself.

And it definitely isn't a coincidence that I've found myself feeling more OK with not knowing the right answer but still believing that there is one.

Matt gave that analogy that relativism uses to back up its theological assertion that it is impossible to know God completely, the one about the elephant and the three blind men that touch different parts of the elephant and all come up with different explanations for what an elephant is like. One, finding the trunk, says an elephant is like a snake. Another, grasping a leg, contradicts the first and declares that an elephant is like a tree. Still another, blindly touching the elephant's side, declares that an elephant is like a wall, solid and unmoving.

None of the blind men know completely what the elephant is like. And that's what relativity does. It says, "You can't know God, and there is no absolute truth."

And I guess, looking back on five years, it's as if maybe I'm touching one part of the elephant, maybe its trunk and trying to figure out what God is like from that touch alone. The difference is that I know the elephant is a lot bigger than that trunk.

I really did mean to do this yesterday

2007-09-22T09:39:00.001-05:00

I didn't get a chance to write this post yesterday for Green Friday. I did think of it on Thursday. I knew what to write a whole 24 hours in advance! I just had no time to sit down and write. You know, cuz I be workin'.

You know that fruit wash stuff you can buy at organic grocery stores? I see it all the time as Sprouts/Whole Foods/Central Market type places. Veggie Wash, it's called.

When I was growing up, we just washed fruits and vegetables with water from the tap and dried them off with paper towels. Seemed to work OK and none of us ever got sick from pesticides. However, seeing products like the aforementioned Veggie Wash in my favorite natural grocery store makes me feel all paranoid, like maybe for all these years I've been ingesting pesticides and my insides are rotting away and I'm never known it. Gah!

But then, it's kind of pricey: $3.99 a bottle online! And I'm cheap, so I see no reason to pay $4 for a specialty product like this when there probably is a cheaper, effective way to clean fruits and vegetables.

The editors of Cook's Illustrated wondered, too, if those expensive veggie washes are worth the month. So, the magazine did a study. They compared four methods of cleaning fresh product by washing the products in each of these methods, swabbing a Q-tip on the produce and then smearing the grime in a petrie dish.

They cleaned one batch with antibacterial soap (not recommended by the FDA), one with a solution of vinegar and water, one with a vegetable brush and rinsed the fourth group with clean water. Then they let the petrie dishes sit for several days at 80 degrees to see what bacteria would grow.

In the end, cleaning with water only or cleaning with the scrub brush yielded almost the same results, removing around 85 percent of the bacteria from the produce. The vinegar solution got rid of 98 percent of the bacterial colonies.

In another study, researchers from the Institute of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences at the Tennessee State University tested the vinegar solution against plain water and against the commercial veggie wash. Both the veggie wash and plain water (used to soak the produce) removed about the same amount of bacteria. Which means plain ol' water, when used in the appropriate method, gets rid of bacteria just as effectively as veggie wash.

Anyway, researchers concluded that the veggie wash products just aren't that great a value. A 16-ounce bottle of Veggie Wash is $3.99, but a gallon of vinegar runs less than $2 at most grocery stores.

So, here's your recipe/green tip of the week. Make your own veggie wash!

Simply mix:
1 part distilled white vinegar
3 parts plain water
Combine the above in a spray bottle and mist over produce. Then rinse away the vinegar with a splash of cool water. The homemade method is cheap, cost effective and a good way to reuse old plastics that might otherwise be thrown away.

But everyone else likes me except for so and so and so and so and...

2007-09-18T19:23:00.000-05:00

So, what I love about my job is when I call someone asking for a simple comment about how a school district is handling an incident.And instead of getting a comment, I get a lecture at a very loud volume on how my job as a reporter is to only rely on factual information not rumor.

And the yelling happens in much the same manner that I like to scream at the television when my parents are watching Fox News and O.J. Simpson is just at it again and again and again.

My favorite part? When this woman yelled: "I'm not telling you anything!" Click.

Sigh. Oh, to be in a profession where everyone likes me.

'Night Letter' to the Internets

2007-09-17T23:15:00.000-05:00

My best friend Lauren started a weekly get together thing at her house recently that she is tentatively calling Pipe & Poetry Night. I bet you don't have a clue what we do there. No guesses? We read poetry aloud and the boys smoke pipes! Mystery solved! I bet you would never have guessed. Good thing I told you and am really gifted at explanations.

Thursday night was my first night to attend. Like the true journalism major/NPR fiend that I am, I thought carefully about what poem I might select to read aloud. I searched for this one beautiful poem I heard months ago on the Writer's Almanac, though I knew I couldn't possibly read it as beautifully at Garrison Keillor had. I couldn't find it, so I instead dug out two of Billy Collins' books from the stack of media mailer boxes in the attic. I couldn't choose because I love them both. I brought both. I wondered if maybe anyone else would know of Billy Collins' wonderful work and then chided myself for thinking I was even momentarily smart for bringing along some Billy Collins and OMG, of course, they've heard of him!

Well, guess what folks! Thanks to Dr. Guinn and a random poetry reading or three I attended in college, I got to be one step ahead of the crowd for once. And this DOES NOT happen very often.

I am always the last to "discover" anything except news. I listen to the radio and rarely branch out to new music. I wasn't always this way, but ever since I stopped having friends toward whom I felt nothing but competition, I just haven't had the urge to be first at anything. I like my Jack Johnson even though it's a year old, and I JUST downloaded Gimmee Fiction like a week ago (and only because Ardy had one of Spoon's songs playing on his MySpace page recently, a song I knew existed but had forgotten about since ACL 2005).

I read this poem aloud:

Night Letter to the Reader

I get up from the tangled bed and go outside,
a bird leaving its nest,
a snail taking a holiday from its shell,

but only to stand on the lawn,
an ordinary insomniac
amid the growth systems of garden and woods.

If I were younger, I might be thinking
about something I heard at a party,
about an unusual card,

or the press of Saturday night,
but as it is, I am simply conscious,
an animal in pajamas,

sensing only the pale humidity
of the night and the slight zephyrs
that stir the tops of the trees.

The dog has followed me out
and stands a little ahead,
her nose lifted as if she were inhaling

the tall white flowers,
visible tonight in the darkened garden,
and there was something I wanted to tell you,

something about the warm orange light
in the windows of the house,
but now I am wondering if you are even listening

and why I bother to tell you these things
that will never make a difference
flecks of ash, tiny chips of ice.

But this is all I want to do --
tell you that up in the woods
a few night birds were calling,

the grass was cold and wet on my bare feet,
and that at one point, the moon,
looking like the top of Shakespeare's

famous forehead,
appeared, quite unexpectedly,
illuminating a band of moving clouds.

The other people in attendance (people I really like, mind you) read the Bible, some Augustine quote and something from Revelation. And then we talked about heaven, which was wonderful because we all kind of wonder about it and worry that we'll just stand in a circle around Christ and sing "Holy, Holy, Holy" for all of eternity. And, let's face it, you know we all really think that would be boring as hell.

Observe that the poem I selected has no spiritual implications whatsoever but is purely about the imagery it evokes. This is, consequently, why I feel like a heathen sometimes around church people.

Because sometimes I cry in church

2007-09-16T20:32:00.000-05:00

A couple things before I get to the sappy Jesus-loves-Katy stuff:

1) My California-induced cankles have returned to their previous state. I am back to having ankles. Lovely, slender, non-pregnant lady ankles.
2) The aforementioned sunburned ankles are now peeling and still disgusting. Bah.
3) I am almost 100 percent certain that I will have this stupid white hand print in the middle of my back for the next year.
4) As of Thursday, I am a lifetime member of Weight Watchers. This means I met my goal (lost 10 pounds!, maintained it and no longer have to pay.
5) I have no green tip for you this week because I'm tired.

Disclaimer: This rest of this post is cheesy as hell. I am not apologizing. Just saying.

OK, so you remember when "No Name Face" came out? And it was all, "Lifehouse is a Christian band! And, 'Hanging By a Moment' is all about Jesus!" And lots of people played some of their songs in church and attached religious themes to the lyrics, which totally could be romantically-themed or spiritually-themed. Remember that?

I never got it. I mean, I understood it just fine, but I supposed I just thought it was more Christians trying to make culture fit their subculture instead of appreciating the songs purely on their own merit. I appreciated the Christian themes, but, um, I just kind of didn't think it was any big deal. Christians are always trying to find validation in culture but that's not where our value is, now is it? Such was my thinking, and still is.

Well, tonight I went to church by myself. My friend Lindsey usually goes with me. Tonight, she couldn't make it, Jen couldn't make it and neither could Irene, my former boss who attends another church in town but whom I invited with me anyway because she needs more Jesus and less Joel Osteen theology/prosperity gospel.

Oh, mah hell. Aye ees brengen frends to VBS!

Lindsey and I usually sit together, catch up a little before the message starts, listen to the message and then go on our merry ways. When I go to church by myself, it's like I'm less conscious of myself, because, I might not see these people again! They probably all usually go to different services! We have seven services! I've concluded that they will not remember me.

And, so, because I am not paying nearly as much attention to the other people, sometimes God catches up with me a little more.

Yesterday, I drove Irene to look at a town home she is buying. She is recovering from gall bladder surgery and can't drive, so I went with her. We're both single, though she is older than I and divorced. And we talked about work and how I love my job and am scared I will lose it because I just am that way. And that's when the conversation turned to the power of positive thinking and how God will bless me if I think positively and let him. Also, according to Irene, he'll probably bring each of us a man. (Which is, in my opinion, something that should happen eventually but not right now, thanks.)

Can you tell she reads Joel Osteen? Can ya? Yes? Thought so.

I kind of went home and thought, "Yes, Katy, you should think more positively, especially since nothing has actually happened that would indicate you are going to lose the job." And also, "By the way, you aren't unhappy being single, are you? No. That was someone else's idea, someone who, though she loves you and wants the best for you, doesn't share your version of a Christian worldview."

The thing is, I'm really happy. I like my life.

But I kind of wish my emotions were more involved in something. Does that make sense? I don't wish I was getting married tomorrow. Hell no. But I am a little detached from other people because we all work and live in different corners of the Metroplex and my friends are a hodgepodge group. I am, little by little, rebuilding my sense of community.

So, tonight at church, the band played "Everything" by Lifehouse. And I didn't expect to at all, but I got all weepy and had to go to the bathroom so as not to alarm anyone around me because it's just painful to see me cry, right?

I guess God and I had a moment. And that doesn't happen very often, because, um, I can't see God to have a moment with him. But, I was reminded that, although I'm very much on my own right now, the way Jesus loves me makes me want him to be everything.

This one's for the girls, yo.

2007-09-13T11:59:00.000-05:00

So my friend Kathleen and I decided to start our own team for the Texas Independence Relay. We are really excited to run it, but we need at least 8 team members, preferably 12. This is your invitation. We previously tried to join a team with a woman I knew from Weight Watchers. Unfortunately, she is lost. I haven't seen her in weeks.

The Texas Independence Relay is a 200-mile relay race with 40 legs. Legs vary in length, but they are mostly between three and eight miles (except for two legs). Depending on how many team members we have, each person will run 3-5 legs.

The total fee is $850 per team if we register by Nov. 1, which works out to about $85 per person on average. We may be able to get a team sponsor. The race starts in Gonzales, Texas on March 1 ends at the San Jacinto Monument on March 2. We'll visit many small towns along the way, including Shiner, home of my favorite beer.

Reasons to run:

This is a great motivation to get in shape! I have a great training schedule I am willing to share with anyone to gradually help you build up your endurance.

The race weekend will be a weekend of fun with the girls. We're only recruiting the menfolk if we get desperate to fill the team. We really want this to be a girl thing. I doubt any man would want to see me run, and, frankly, I kind of don't want the menfolks to see me. It might be worse than seeing me cry, which is pretty awful. Trust me. I know. I looked in the mirror once.

You'll make some new friends! Kathleen and I are mostly blog friends. She is my old friend David's sister, and I now hear from her more often than I hear from Dave!

You'll get to see Texas, as well as receive a T-shirt, race goodies and freebies, finisher's keepsake and post-race food. As a bonus, I will be creating a super cool CD compilation of songs to listen to in a van (or, you know, while running). Each team member will receive a copy and a super cool wristband to go with it.

And if you're feeling charitable, this race supports the Ronald McDonald House and the San Jacinto Museum of History

Our only requirement of team members is that they be cool and not annoying. Basically, I think I like everybody enough to spend a weekend running with them.

It's going to be a lot of fun, and you will feel so good having done this. Even if you don't live in Texas, you can train on your own and then come down for the race in March. Please consider joining our team.

The L.A.

2007-09-10T22:31:00.000-05:00

It was an interesting extended weekend in Southern California. Because I'm kind of tired and sore from my weird sunburn, I'll just give you some high/low lights. Pictures to come later.

1. My mom drove my car while I was out of town and got sideswiped. My mom is OK, just a little shook up. My cute car is not OK. It's in the shop for at least three weeks. My irritation with Uptown Dallas continues. Hmph. Why does this shit always seem to happen to me and my family?
2. I forgot to put sunblock on my shins and the tops of my feet on Sunday while at San Clemente Pier. I also missed a spot in the middle of my back. I have a red stripe on my back and pink shins and arches. It hurts to stand up. I now look like I have cankles since my ankles and lower legs are so swollen. I have even broken out in hives because the sunburn is so bad. On the plus side, I have a really cool white hand print on my back.
3. I bought a new phone, and it arrived at home while I was on vacation. This was good because while on vacation, I got so irritated with my old phone that I almost chucked it into the ocean.
4. I finally got to eat a Balboa Bar just like Christy and Todd. If any of you know who they are, I just might kiss you.
5. I visited Fashion Island for about five minutes on a jaunt to Newport Beach just to say I'd been there and because the O.C. kids (um, the fictional ones) went there all the time. I wasn't that impressed, but I'm not really that impressed by malls.
6. I have a love-hate relationship with L.A. The stories about the traffic are true. There was traffic at 2 a.m. those sons of bitches.
7. I had a star sighting. It was also a Seinfeld moment. I considered blowing raspberries on the window of a diner in which Brandon and I were eating brunch since we were positioned awkwardly close to a couple on the other side of said window. I chose not to blow on the window, but I did imitate the woman's motions, even going so far as to take off an invisible jacket when she did the same. I stopped being stupid when Brandon reminded me that he lives in L.A. and not Arkansas. I was quite glad I didn't blow the raspberries after I realized we were sitting next to Piper Perabo and Sam Rockwell. SO that was kind of neat.
8. California malls have Ferris wheels. I find this highly disturbing.
9. I got to observe history in the making: Brandon's first show in L.A. at the Rainbow Room. No, it's not a gay bar. I'm understandably disappointed at that, of course, since how funny would that have been and? And, oh, how I would have made fun of him for years! On the plus side, both Brandon and Ardy got hit on by a cougar. (Tip of the hat to Ryon for translating that term for me.)
10. Jessika and Jeff got married. The boys wore brown tuxedos and brown Chucks. The ladies wore darling brown and yellow dresses. The wedding was gorgeous. My friend is gorgeous, and I love her. Also, live bands are totally the best wedding entertainment, even better than DJs and string quartets.

I kind of love the L.A.

Remnant of the celebration

2007-09-04T21:08:00.000-05:00

Because I am leaving for the O.C. tomorrow morning, I felt that I should leave you all with a little something so you don't forget me while I'm gone. So, without further ado, I leave you with these photos featuring the giant corsage, my mother's idea of how I should celebrate my birthday at the office.

Obviously, there's nothing else to write about today

2007-09-03T21:33:00.000-05:00

Since apparently it's Labor Day and there isn't much to do, check out this year's Forbes list of the top 40 cities for singles. Once again, Dallas-Fort Worth is up there on the list. And once again, Waco didn't make the cut.

Yes, I realize Waco was highly unlikely to make the cut, but that's where I was last year when this list came out. It's just a good time to reflect on how far I've come. I moved 120 miles up the road. But I went 4,400 miles out of the way. Don't you just hate when you do things like that?

It's like how annoying it is when the car payment doesn't get paid. I hate it when bills don't pay them-damn-selves like that. Asshats.

In case you're wondering, I greatly enjoyed my birthday celebration. Highlights included: celebrating Jackabee's birthday with Lauren and other friends, a conference call rendition of the birthday song from the girls, delicious food and drinks at The Porch, not having to drive and wearing a giant corsage to our editorial staff meeting on Friday at work, my mother's idea of me celebrating my birthday at the office ("Katy, are you going to homecoming?").

I might not be around this week. Actually, I KNOW I won't be around this week. I'll be in the O.C. watching this lady (um, the one on the right) get married.

Because if I worry about me being fired, so should you

2007-08-31T23:46:00.000-05:00

I really do fear that I will be fired. Not for any particular reason. I'm not a nuisance, I don't think. I generally get along with everybody. I'm baking cookies on Monday to bring to work on Tuesday. And my coworkers are starting to laugh at my jokes more.

It's the little things, really, yes?

Anyway. Yes, I like my job. And I really want to keep it. Which is why I live in a constant state of fear about being fired.

Every week, we have an editorial meeting where we discuss what stories will run in the next papers. Just before we go around the room to pitch our story ideas, managing editor Jay gives us advice on little things he's noticed about the papers, things we can improve on, areas to focus on improving in our writing. He also sometimes tells us who all did a good job this week and points out stories we should read for examples of what To Do.

And about once or twice a month, we have an all-staff meeting with the advertising, production, and circulation people. During that meeting, each department head recognizes a few people who are performing really well and, you know, deserve the recognizing. We like the recognizing.

Well, today, in our all staff meeting, executive editor Jason starts going on about a story I wrote about alcohol sales in Plano which recently enacted a city-wide ban on smoking. It was kind of a funny story because all the restaurateurs had been complaining about how much their sales were down. Come to find out, sales were up compared to last year. So, yes, I wrote a story about it. And it got the recognizing.

And then, Jason starts in about another story, one I wrote for Bent Tree. I stopped paying attention after the praise of the smoking story, and as soon as he said Bent Tree, I kind of snapped out of it to go, "Whaaaa? Really? Again?" And people laughed and my other boss went on and on about that story, too.

And so, I conclude that today I probably won't be fired. At least not for another 68 days or so.

Some crap to clean yo' floor with

2007-08-30T23:10:00.001-05:00

I know, I've been neglecting that whole Ooh! Let's Have a Green Living Tip Every Week On the Blog thing. It's just, you know, with a new job and driving no less than 15 hours a week, I basically feel far too exhausted to think about it.

Of course, yesterday, one of my colleagues had to go be all showy and tell me she was trying to live carbon neutral for three days for a story in the paper. And then I felt all guilty for not spreading some of the love around.

Anyway.

So, my friend Sarah is trying to convince her dad to buy a house in the M Streets (a neighborhood also known as Lakewood), so we can rent it from him come February for less than he would charge a total stranger, say. This is in no way a set deal. We're both just like, "Oh, man, that would be nice. We could walk home and wouldn't have to drive when we go a'drinkin' and, um, AWESOME!"

And because I've been mentally decorating an imaginary townhome/condo thing complete with beautiful hardwood floors and original crown molding, I got to thinking that pretty much everybody I know is more hip and more cool than I and already lives in a home with wood floors.

But I bet you didn't know this handy wood floor cleaner recipe, courtesy "The Naturally Clean Home." It's for, you know, when you don't feel like mopping up the Murphy's Oil Soap.

1 1/2 cups water
1 1/2 cups white vinegar
20 drops peppermint essential oil

Combine all the ingredients in a spray bottle. Spray it on small sections of the floor, working it into the wood sparingly as needed. Dry mop after the washing part using a Swiffer dry cloth type thing. Voila! Clean floors. No killing the environment. Could you ask for anything more?

(Also, the peppermint has antibacterial properties. Which is good because that floor is where people walk around and put their babies. Oh, and it smells nice. Added bonus!)

Does anyone have any suggestions for something to do on Saturday night? We're trying to go out to dinner for my birthday, but I'm having trouble narrowing down my restaurant choice. I just want someone to pick for me, but, so far, no volunteers. Hmph. Happy birthday to me.

My nail salon sent me a 10 percent off coupon to wish me a happy birthday. A pedicure is in my future, of only to relieve the stress of planning my own damn birthday dinner.

We ain't got no money

2007-08-28T22:12:00.000-05:00

My best friend JenA moved to Dallas last week. Yes, that JenA. The one who broke her ankle because she got drunk and fell down while trying to do a scissor kick in the middle of a party.

See the weird thing is that I've realized that I am way too often wrong about people. When I met Jen, I thought she was kind of a bitch. Not that she isn't kind of a bi-otch. (She would kill me for saying otherwise.) She just isn't one toward me. On my behalf? Absolutely. But toward me? No. No way. Talk about a loyal friend.

I guess the reason I bring it up is because my friend Tasha and I emailed back and forth during work today, and I was struck by the still obvious fact that I DID NOT like Tasha when I first met her. She was another work friend, just like Jen. I should have known we'd end up friends. But, at first, I thought she was just a snot with big boobs. And we didn't need another one of those in the office. I felt I had that role covered just fine, thank you very much.

(I bet you didn't think I'd talk about boobs for two posts in a row, did you?)

And then one day, both Tasha and I were in fairly snarky moods and decided out of the blue to go to La Madeleine for lunch. We bonded and griped and felt better because both of us realized the other had similar goals, similar aspirations to do good journalistic work, despite the struggles of our fledgling and stingy company. Our friendship was sealed. And once again I was struck by how much I didn't think I would like her and how wrong I'd been. And I've been wrong before where the reverse has been true, where I immediately loved the person and, in the end, the relationship took a turn for the worse.

Weird, huh?

Months after JenA and I realized we basically wished one of us was a man, we started a tradition called Mojito Monday. Every Monday after work, we left the Waco newspaper office and headed across town to the Elite Circle Grille for drinks and delicious happy hour specials.

Waco might be where I fostered my deep affection for happy hours in general. So, tonight? When JenA and I found "our spot" for Tequila Tuesday and spent more than two hours talking over Really Strong Margs? I kind of felt like I never left Waco and still spent every Monday night trying to decide between a mojito and a white grape martini.

And man, what are friends for? We're both still broke-ass journalists, but at least we have each other.

Oh, the wonders of the little black dress

2007-08-26T22:37:00.000-05:00

Sometime around Christmas in 2004, one of my best friends, Nicole, told me she wanted me to be an attendant in her wedding. She asked two other friends, Mel and Amy, and me to wear black dresses on the big day.

See, I have this weird tick where I don't need an excuse to buy a dress but will, in fact, buy one even if I have no idea where or when I will wear it. (Case in point: I bought another black dress my sophomore year of college with no clue where I was going to wear it and eventually wore it to a dinner for the girls in my dorm where we all decided to dress up and bring dates. I dragged then-boyfriend and now-ex-roommate's-husband Chad to that event, and we all know how that turned out. Meh.)

Anyway, over Christmas break my senior year of college, I bought a smokin' hot black strapless dress from Banana Republic on sale. It's made of this satiny fabric and has two fabric flowers affixed on one side with a little gather and an asymmetrical hemline. It would look great on the floor. That's how hot the dress is.

I haven't worn that dress since Nicole's wedding. Not because I haven't wanted to but because a) I've had no reason to wear it, and b) it didn't fit anymore. I tried it on this past December just to see how it might look if I had some fabulous party to go to or if our office Christmas party wasn't going to be lame and I could pull off a fancy dress for no good reason. Well, I couldn't get the damn thing zipped. I think I may have zippered part of my boob trying to get it fastened. It was disheartening to say the least.

Tonight, for no good reason, I was going through my closet to see if there was anything I wanted to get rid of. I do this sometimes. I purge my wardrobe and donate stuff to charity or give it to other people if I haven't worn it in more than six months or if it doesn't fit. I have kept that black dress hoping I would eventually get back into it and was sort of getting used to the idea that I might eventually have to give it away. But then I tried it on, and it fit! Sweet Jesus! It fits.

Weight Watchers should put me on the payroll because I could be a spokesperson.

Great moments in journalism

2007-08-24T17:50:00.000-05:00

Sometimes my old editors from Waco will write me randomly to check up on me. Or, you know, ask my opinion on highly important journalistic matters. Like spin offs of top rated TV shows. Today, I received one such email.

Bruce: Is this Grey's anatomy spin off going to work?
Me:Haha, I don't even watch that show anymore. Meredith annoyed me too much. I might watch the Addison spin-off though, just because Addison is my favorite character.
Bruce: We've been plowing through six feet under on DVD. A little too much gay sex for my tastes, but story lines are interesting.

Gotta love my life. Who could ask for better bosses?

Some work moments

2007-08-23T22:50:00.000-05:00

Tuesday, while mentioning to my editor that I planned on visiting one of my church's community groups.

ME: Man, I really wanted to go to this home group Bible study thing tonight, but it doesn't look like I'm going to get out of here anytime soon.
JAY: A Bible study, huh? Sounds interesting.
ME: Well, it's more like a community group. We'll probably just all end up talking. But OMG I have no time.
JAY: Basically, if you want to be a journalist, you're going to have to get used to the fact that you will have no more free time.

Today, while discussing how overwhelmed I feel at my job, a job I love but still feel like I suck at.

ME: OMG I feel like I'm going to be fired at any moment.
COWORKER No. 1: I feel like that everyday.
ME: Seriously? I thought it was just me.
COWORKER No.1: No, it's not just you. This is a lot of work.
ME: What about you, Cassie? Do you feel like you're going to get fired every day?
CAS: Not anymore, but this job did make me want to kill myself for a while.

Yeah, life is awesome. See you in five years.

I don't Do Church, not well anyway

2007-08-19T19:54:00.000-05:00

I promise I'm still alive. Really! Here I am. Alive and typing. It's just been, well, busy here in Katyland.

I started my job two weeks ago. The night before the first day, I had a series of crazy dreams littered with people I do not like and who cause me stress. So. Over. That. And then the past two weeks have consisted of me going to work, working like a dog, going home and sleeping with a few more crazy dreams mixed in there somewhere.

Basically, my dreams turn vivid and bizarre when I am under pressure, particularly pressure to perform or meet certain expectations. In this case, the expectation is to Not Suck. I really hope I don't let anyone down, or there will be more on the line than just my job. I'll basically wonder what the hell to do with my life because, um, I have no other marketable skills.

Anyway, that's what's new with me. Not a whole lot.

Because nothing remotely exciting is happening in my life, let me tell you something that's going on with my church. Namely, we've entered into a month of fundraising to (hopefully) buy an old grocery store and turn it into our new campus. For some reason, I love this idea. Granted, we're probably going to spend upwards of $7 million to buy and refurbish this place, but I know of another church here in the Metroplex spending somewhere around $26 million on an expansion. Not a new building. An EXPANSION. Good God help us all. I can feel pretty OK about spending $7 million-ish to buy and refurbish an old grocery store when other churches of comparable growth and size are spending enormous ass buildings and spending three times the amount just on their damn parking lots. I wish we didn't have to spend anything at all on the project, but since we do, I'd rather err on the side of an old grocery store. I have a weakness for old grocery stores being converted to churches. Might be because one of my top five places in the world happens to be an old Piggly Wiggly. So, out with the old, in with the nothing-but-the-blood-of-Jesus crowd.

And all the while, I'm a little freaked out by the fact that churches grow like this down here in the Bible Belt. I mean, I know I grew up here and all, and I should be used to it by now. But, I'm not. It's weird to me how much people around here just love to Do Church. It's probably part of the reason I didn't go for, oh, four years or so. Who wants to just Do Church? I don't. I want something where I can't simply walk out the door after a service and say to my friends, "That was great! Let's go to Chili's!" Oh, the irony. Have I told you why I despise working on Sundays and Wednesdays? Church people = worst tippers ever. Although sometimes they do leave me tracts.

2007-08-15T23:41:00.000-05:00

Basically, I love my job. Who wouldn't want to love the thing that occupies the majority of the day? I don't know anyone who wants to get up every day and hate life because of a stupid job. So my job, the one I've been in for eight days now? So far, it's awesome.

I really don't have time to update today. Maybe tomorrow. Yawn.

Not that there's anything wrong with having 17 kids

2007-08-12T21:57:00.000-05:00

For some reason, at the restaurant we've lately had a whole lot of families bringing in their very adorable tiny people (a.k.a. children) to eat. And they are all sweet and quiet as mice and sometimes I kind of look up and twitch a little because they're just so cute and who wouldn't want one of those?

But then I read about these people. I completely forgot about this story until I saw a link on Devi's blog. Allow me to state firmly and for the record that if I do ever have children, I may just stop at child. As in one. As in dear Lord someone give that family some birth control.

Of course, now that I've spoken, I bet God would find it funny to allow birth control pills to not work for me ever and I'll one day find myself with 19 kids and another one of the way. Wouldn't that be amusing? If that's the case, you can bet your Arkansas ass I will not be homeschooling a single one.

The source of the ticking

2007-08-09T18:49:00.000-05:00

Basically, my first week at the new job has been a string of phone calls, emails and dashing around trying to remember when my stories are due because our papers are planned two weeks ahead of time. This means that in tomorrow morning's story budget meeting, I must have four story ideas for the paper to be distributed Aug. 24.

In addition, because the company did not have a reporter in my post for a few months, the content for two of our papers has been a hodge podge of stories pieced together from other papers which sort of have ties with the communities I now cover.

On Monday, our managing editor told me to come up with four story ideas for the Aug. 24 issue by Friday. On Tuesday, our assistant managing editor assured me that I didn't have to worry about stories for the Aug. 10 paper. On Wednesday, our managing editor asked me if I had anything in mind for the Aug. 17 paper because, um, we don't have anything. Whaddayagot? At which point I start running around even more confused trying to figure out the deadlines and hoping against all logic that I will manage to find four stories, interview for them and write them by Monday. Which is, you know, a lot like how my old job was. And my old job sucked.

Anyway, it will calm down, I'm sure, once the deadlines are more clearly plotted in front of me and I'm only trying to finish one week at a time instead of trying to finish a week of papers and plan for the next week and know some more people.

I have also begun to infiltrate the ranks of a at the top of the pile. All in good time, my pretty. Actually, I'm just kidding about that. I just saw the D offices as I was going to buy a Diet Coke and promptly felt underqualified to be in the office at all. Also? I felt underdressed. Because that place is beautiful and looks a little bit like an art gallery or an IKEA display. I'm serious. And if you live in Dallas and have never read the magazine, well, you need to. In addition to writing about plastic surgery, they also have some decent reporting coming out of that shop downstairs. I'm kidding. The reporting is excellent.

In the meantime, I've apparently become blog fodder for the company blog, "Overheard." We'll start with the first post, otherwise known as "In Which Katy Is Introduced to Blog Readers Via Her Intense Love of the Harry Potter Series." Next, we'll move on to the tale of the fanatic staffers or "In Which More Details Are Revealed About the Grown Woman Who Has a Harry Potter Poster On Her Cubicle Wall." And we shall conclude with a response to the fanatic staffer label or "In Which Katy Reveals Ultimate Nerdhood and Admits Reading Harry Potter Fan Sites."

For good measure, I'll leave you with a tasty morsel a co-worker sent me this morning.

Where would I be without the HOV?

2007-08-07T21:24:00.001-05:00

Note to self: posts about depressing things like suburban murder suicides tend not to go over so well. Onward!

I started my new job on Monday. It was with quite a lot of apprehension that I woke up at 6 a.m. and started getting ready for work. I did not sleep well Sunday night and was plagued with an annoying dream about people that don't like me. I found myself feeling so shocked at being awake that I didn't feel too tired when I finally shook myself out of those pesky dreams. It is starting to catch up with me now, but I'm making it a point to get to bed earlier tonight. How the hell did I ever make it through college with all the morning classes and homework?

My friend, Kelli, works less than three miles from my office in Dallas. It's very convenient. On Monday morning, I drove to her house, and the two of us carpooled to work together. This means not much for those of you who do not live in Ginormous Out Of Control Urban Sprawls. I know what you're thinking: "Oh, that's cute. You carpool. Like Dagwood in that Blondie cartoon. And you have someone to talk to on the way to work! I bet you're the one who is always late, huh?"

No, dear reader, it means so much more than just a little company for the road. It means we get to take the HOV lane. For those of you who do not live in aforementioned Ginormous Out Of Control Urban Sprawls, HOV stands for "high occupancy vehicle." And a "high occupancy vehicle" is a car with two people in it. Neat huh? In fact, it kind of makes me want to get a baby carrier and make it look like I have a kid in the backseat so I can take the HOV even when I'm driving alone. Anyway, while all the schmucks in this town sit staring at the Fuggin' Enormous SUV in front of them, Kelli and I zoom along to work in the far left lane laughing our mid-20s asses off about the fact that our gas costs less and look! company! we dance in the car sometimes!

And another thing? My job is good. I have felt more productive in the past two days than in the last five months. I know I am responsible for this, for the whole Not-Working-When-I-Should-Be thing at the last job, but I think the whole reason things happened the way they did is because so much was expected of me in quantity and so little was expected with respect to quality. I could produce absolute drivel so long as it filled the page and I got things in by Tuesday night's deadline. Well, no more. I'm already off to a roaring start. And you know what? I bet my stories will be so much stronger, and maybe I won't feel like I suck as a journalist anymore. Keep fingers crossed.

And one more thing: we get to wear jeans to my job EVERY SINGLE DAY if we want to. Life is good.

I'll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide

2007-08-05T19:44:00.000-05:00

We seem to have had lots of weirdness going on in the news lately. A bridge collapsed in Minnesota and not three miles from my house, in an apparent murder suicide, a woman killed her husband, her two children and herself on Tuesday. Yes, I'd say it's been a weird week.

It was also a week where I was really glad to have the news. It sounds weird to say it, but when things like this happen, I'm oddly grateful that there are media outlets covering it because seeing other people, even reporters, ask questions visibly shaken, it helps me to realize I am not the only person asking, "Why?".

Matt talked about the murder suicide tonight at church, mostly because I think he figured most of us probably spent a significant amount of time, at least more than 15 minutes, thinking about it at various points last week, wondering if our neighbors were OK or if the haggard woman grocery shopping with her children truly is just tired. I thought about it and wondered how anyone could take the lives of loved ones and then I kind of wondered if I had ever seen Andrea Robers anywhere. I called my friend Kelli, who lives on the street where everything happened, and asked if she knew the family. I want to know what she looked like. I kind of hope she went to church but then kind of hope she didn't because I don't want to think about the possibility of someone existing in such a dark place and not one of God's people being able to detect it.

Yes, pretty screwed up thinking, huh?

One neighbor is quoted in a news story as saying, "From all appearances, everything was normal. They were a busy family, just like everyone else here." And doesn't that just freak you out a little bit? Like everyone else here. We come and go from jobs and school and church and PTA meetings, and few people really know who we are. Maybe, as the pastor at church mused tonight, the suburbs are slowly killing us.

OK, not really. I guess that was a lot dramatic. But I keep going over and over the idea of safety in my head and why, even if we are safe in our quiet lives, with such pretty houses and pretty gardens, we are not safe really. This woman wasn't safe from herself, and I have to wonder at the kind of darkness she lived in.

Because you knew this eventually would come 'round to customer service

2007-08-03T12:17:00.000-05:00

This might be a useless bit of knowledge to some of you, like the ones who live in Portland and, oh, I dunno, New Zealand? seeing as those locales tend to lean green anyway. However, this week, my local Kroger store surprised me by discounting my grocery bill because I brought my own bag. I always forget my own bag and every single time I go through the line to pay, I suddenly remember the green cloth bag the backseat of my car and curse myself for forgetting to be kind to the environment today.

This is where the cheapskate in me crosses paths with the pseudo-treehugger in me. Because the discount at Kroger is only five cents per bag filled. HOWEVER, it's a good thing! They recognize that customers might need a small, tangible incentive for doing something for the environment.

Anyway, bring your own bags. Yay. I have scads of those stupid plastic grocery bags laying around and never know what to do with them. They are stashed under the bathroom sink, between the washing machine and the wall in the laundry room and stuffed into corners of my closet. They are the easiest form of plastic to recycle and the one least often recycled. Huh. How 'bout that? Anyway, if you don't feel like buying cloth grocery tote bags, you can always just keep a stash of plastic bags in the car for when you hit up the grocery store. It's not like they take up much room. Wad up a few and keep them in the glove compartment and use them when you run errands.

Another thing: I've taken to telling customer service people I don't need a bag if I'm only buying one item. However, I've also discovered I have to go one step further and give the cashier a more specific direction. I bought a card at Hobby Lobby a few months ago for someone's birthday, and, as the cashier started to put it in a plastic bag, I stopped her and said I would just put it in my purse. I took my purchase and left with a glance over my shoulder at which point I observed the cashier throwing the bag away. At which point smoke came out of my ears and I turned around and yelled at her. (OK, not really, but that doesn't mean I didn't want to say something about it. Because it does not make any sense to throw something away if it hasn't been used at all.)

OK, I'm done now. Wait. No, I'm not.

I don't understand this at all. I mean, is it somehow contaminated? Did you spit in it, cashier? So, since I'm already a bitch toward people in the service industry, especially food servers because I AM one, I just assume no one has any sense whatsoever and say, "I don't need a bag. Please USE IT FOR THE NEXT CUSTOMER AND DON'T THROW IT AWAY."

I'm not really bitchy when I say this. I don't raise my voice or anything, and I actually speak in quite a kind tone (for me anyway). Anywho, I guess you have to really articulate what you want in these situations, because people are so built on habits that they won't ever think to change. Kind of like how I now have the habit built up in my head that I have to talk about or think about Harry Potter every day. And the habit is so ingrained in my skull now that when I heard about the bridge collapse in Minnesota, my first thought was of the bridge collapse in "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." I really must get out more.

Basically, I've failed because I wait tables

2007-08-02T11:23:00.000-05:00

So, my friend Jen wrote this great post about success the other day. Kind of blew me away, actually, because when I'm at the restaurant working my little part-time server job and someone walks in that I knew in high school or something, I get kind of embarrassed and purposely avoid eye contact and pretend I don't see the person lest they think a food server the only thing I've managed to make of myself in six years. Once, two friends of my parents walked in the door, asked what I'm doing here at a restaurant setting burgers and quesadillas in front of people, and I jokingly responded that I just moonlight there on the weekends for some extra money. I actually felt like some kind of failure. But, why?

Why do I feel like a failure when I'm doing the best I can do with two jobs, managing little by little to make a dent in those bills I racked up when I moved across the country twice in less than six months? Because I can't make ends meet on only one job? Because one of my jobs consists of me serving people food, literally lowering myself to my knees so that I am physically below the customers when I take their order? Because I have to serve teenagers chips and salsa while they pay with credit cards their parents gave them?

So that got me thinking about other, more irritating things in how I approach money. Basically, I hold my parents partially responsible for the fact that in order to prevent myself from using my credit cards, I literally froze them. No, really. I put them in a plastic bag, filled it with water and stuck it in the freezer. Now, every time I want to make an impulse purchase and start thinking I will just put it on my AmEx, I realize I would actually have to THAW OUT MY AMEX in order to use it. And by now the magnetic strip probably doesn't work anyway. You know, from all the ice?

My mother is the type of woman who would prefer to hide money in a mattress rather than putting it in the bank. She knows next to nothing about investing. My dad is the sort of person who doesn't know where his money goes. My growing up years are marred by memories of the electricity or the phone being cut off because he couldn't pay the bills. Right now, the phone at our house is out of service because he can't afford to pay.

And this is about the time when I start getting a little emotional because this blog post really hits home for me and, um, that's why I'm writing about it.

When Christmas approached as I was growing up, our house always became sort of hushed and annoyed with the whole damn thing. This is part of the reason why I am one of those freaky people who loves Thanksgiving and the 4th of July far more than Christmas. Christmas meant negativity. Instead of all that quiet wonder and silent night crap, there was just grumbling because we couldn't have a pile of presents. And the thing is Carole and I didn't want a pile of presents. We wanted my dad to be happy about going to pick out a Christmas tree. Every year, a couple weeks before Christmas, Carole and I would ask when we were going to go pick out the tree. And every year, without fail, my dad would make a crack about not having any Christmas at which point Carole and I would get pissed at him for being such a Scrooge about a piddly Christmas tree. I felt that in asking to go buy a Christmas tree we were only asking for a Christmas tree. My dad felt that by buying a Christmas tree, he was only going to disappoint us by not putting a huge pile of presents underneath it.

And one Christmas that all changed. When I was a freshman in college, my parents received a settlement from an insurance company as a result of the wreck my dad had when I was in high school. They paid off the house, bought a couple new cars and got caught up on school bills and credit card payments. And my dad took us to Colorado to go skiing for Christmas. We spent a few days in Breckenridge, my mom sitting by the fire, my sister and I skiing and my dad going dog-sledding because he doesn't have the balance for skiing anymore. And on Christmas morning, we opened a few beautiful gifts. It didn't seem like much more than in years past to me, but in retrospect, my dad was happy because he had taken his family on a pricey vacation and managed to pay for Christmas without his usual Scrooge comments. But, it wasn't the happiest Christmas ever. It smacked of unrealized expectations, as if the four of us, after eating Christmas dinner and opening our gifts, collectively sighed, "That wasn't as satisfying as I thought it would be."

The pastor at my church preached a sermon a few weeks ago on Luke 16:13, the verse that says "You can not serve both God and money." He talked about it because it is such a flamboyant problem in this suburban area of the Metroplex where we live. He said "Get out of debt" over and over again until I wanted to stand up and scream, "I'm trah-ying!" And he made a point of immediately debunking the protests people inevitably make about how if we have more money we can "do so much more for the Kingdom." As if God needs our help? As if the things God wants to happen won't happen because some wealthy individual isn't around to finance the project? It's madness, I tell you.

It has been a week, a week where I hate everything. And it's frustrating.

But the thing is, that idea of success is the very one that tells us that we have to have piles of presents on Christmas morning in order to have made it. It tells us that we need to be a boss instead of a subordinate, that if we don't work desk jobs we're somehow below those who do, that punching a clock is somehow shameful, that we need 200 cable channels and what my dad likes to call "multiple streams of recurring income." And the irony is that when people have made it, well, they probably really haven't made it at all. They probably owe mountains of money on things they thought they needed, things they bought to convince themselves they are just like everyone else, that they can afford to keep up. And they confuse need with comfort and rationalize living above their means, hiding the piles of debt behind a well-manicured lawn and a satellite dish. I don't want that. I was happy without cable television and Internet at my apartment in Waco and in Portland. I knew I couldn't afford certain things, so I didn't convince myself otherwise. I just wish I could get my dad to see that light.

Bloggity goodness, thank ye Jesus

2007-07-30T15:55:00.000-05:00

Hi there. My friend Lauren has a new blog. She is calling it the ripple effect, which Mackenzie thought up. I like that, don't you? I like the idea that the things we do touch other people. Admittedly, sometimes I hate that idea because it means that when I do really stupid things, which is often, someone else may feel their effects. But, mostly, I like the idea because it seems to indicate a togetherness people didn't know they felt.

Here's what I mean.

I have tried and tried over the past couple of years to figure out why certain things made me feel a certain way. Like when this thing happened at the church I'd been attending in Waco. Kyle the pastor died and though I sat in the sanctuary every Sunday I only knew one person well enough to have her phone number stored in my cell phone.

I've tried for several months to figure out why Nathan's death was so traumatizing, even for people who never knew him, why people who met his wife a handful of times but knew me felt so shaken by it.

I remember being really confused by people who had never met either Kyle or Nate being so shaken by their deaths, including friends of mine who I felt seemed to exploit their secondhand knowledge of the situation. But that's what I mean when I say that our lives are so intertwined that sometimes people feel a connection to others they don't even know, a togetherness they didn't know existed. And how can I feel anything but awe now that I realize that's what happened?

I even thought of getting a reminder of those lives tattooed on my wrist, though I was close to neither of these individuals. I didn't end up doing it because, um, I'm scared of needles. But why would I consider it in the first place, unless is was because I wanted to be reminded to be like them in some small way?

I've tried to figure out why, though I don't watch it anymore, I baked my chocolate and butterscotch chip cookies and made a weekly trip to a fellow-UBCer's home in Waco to watch a prime time soap about a bunch of really attractive doctors.

I go to this church every week when sometimes it is so hard to do it and so uncomfortable and tiring like it was this week when all I wanted to do was lay down beneath the pews and take a nap and ignore the message and my friend Lindsey who sat beside me and just take a rest, dammit. Why?

Why would I do that, if it weren't that I wanted to be known and loved by people the way these people who went on Home were. I've decided that's their ripple effect, at least in my life. Though I didn't KNOW them the way their families know them, I knew them both enough to call them friends and to be thankful for their ripples in my own life, the ones that won't let me not do life with people placed around me.

This post doesn't make any sense. I apologize. The point was that you should read Lauren's blog and maybe think about that idea.

Because I didn't post yesterday and owe you two things today and Bob Barker would be proud

2007-07-27T09:46:00.000-05:00

Basically, with only a week left at my shit job before I leave for my New Job, my boss told me to take it easy. Don't worry about taking a couple days off, she said. They won't give you your vacation days, so, um, I see nothing! I hear nothing! So I'm taking some half-days. Yesss. Awesome.

Have you ever been in one of those situations where you accomplish something you never thought you wouldn't accomplish and the people you are with drag you to the front of the room, kicking and screaming because you don't want to be in front of all those people! and then you find yourself looking at your feet and kicking at invisible pieces of crap on the floor just to avoid meeting anyone's eyes? Yes? Oh, no? Just me? OK. Well, if you haven't experienced such a thing, let me just tell you about it.

I'm embarrassed as hell but I kind of appreciated it.

I met my little weight loss goal yesterday. This means that after five weeks, I'm about 10 pounds lighter and my clothes fit better and I don't have to buy all new clothes on a writer's salary. I also no longer have to look regretfully through my closet at clothes I will get back into someday! Because I can wear them all today, and this is a good thing because of the aforementioned shitty writer's salary.

Every week, at this meeting I go to for Weight Watchers, the leader asks everyone if they have success stories to share. Some of these women are really, really big. One woman yesterday had dropped another six pounds. After she already dropped 50 and cried about it a little bit because she could wear high heels again without waddling around her office. Sometimes I fear Richard Simmons will come bursting out of the closet where we've hidden him and lead us all in some sort of team-building experience, the climax of which would be the weeping. It's a life-changing moment for these people when they hit their goals, as I did yesterday.

When it was my turn, I quietly said I'd lost againt and then the leader asked if I was close to meeting my goal. When I answered I'd met it and hadn't mentioned it at weigh-in to the receptionist, Leader Barb said, "Well, come on up here because we need to cheer for you!"

This is about when I got really nervous and the point in the recounting of the story where my dad said I needed to join Toastmasters to get over my fear of speaking in front of groups of people. And I do not need anything else to join.

Anyway, Barb made a big deal out of it and the other people at the meeting stood up and clapped for me and congratulated me on only having 10 pounds to lose and man they wish they'd started earlier in life. It was a little embarrassing, y'all.

After all was said and done, I figured out how to maintain my weight and play with how much I eat and work out to stay where I'm at. And in six weeks, they give me a lifetime membership, which is really nice and, best of all, free. And maybe I can work for them, yes? Yeah, that's what she said: come and work for us when you're done if you need the extra money. Yes, please.

The other half of today's post is the weekly green living tip, mostly for Amy because she asked and I'm kind of embarrassed that I tried to start this on a weekly basis because Clearly! I don't know enough about green living to actually do this regularly. However, I did learn something this week. And it's not really about your own living but about your pet's.

Every week in the paper, I run "Pets of the Week," which includes pictures of a dog and a cat from the local no-kill animal shelter, Operation Kindness. I love the organization and I love doggies, so I'm happy to run the pictures. Because those animals have a better shot at a new home if I run the photos.

This particular shelter also rehabilitates animals that have been abused. If anyone has been paying attention to the Michael Vick case, um, it's just sick. And there's a case here in Dallas of a man who doused his pit bull with gasoline and set the dog on fire, too. Crazy people.

This is getting depressing! Onward.

Today, I learned that people who spend times with pets may actually live longer lives. What? If that's true, my mom will live to be 120 years old. A study by the U.S. Department of Health found that 28 percent of heart patients who spent time with pets survived compared to only 6 percent of patients without pets. Obviously, that number doesn't add up to 100 percent, so there were other factors observed in that particular study. But 28 percent lived and can attribute that to the fact that they spent time with their pets.

My next pet will likely be a shelter dog. JenA and I adopted a German Shepherd from Fuzzy Friends Rescue in Waco last year. Actually, Jen adopted him, but, for a while, he had two mommies. When we first began visiting him at the shelter, he just prowled around like he was looking for something. (He hadn't been fixed yet, so I've concluded he was looking for some ladies.) He completely ignored us, so we named him Jason after the manager of the restaurant we frequented for happy hour because Jen worked there part-time and the dog reminded us of Manager Jason. Doggie Jason seemed kind of sad. He was in a cage all day, so who wouldn't be sad? When Jen brought him home, he was skittish and wouldn't jump out of her SUV. The damn dog was afraid of heights, for shit's sake.

These days, Jason is not sad. He barks at the vacuum cleaner and runs laps around the house and steals pizza boxes and eats them because they have grease on them. He is a much happier dog, thank you very much. Who knows how long he would have sat in that shelter if Jen hadn't adopted him, but I've decided both Jen and Jason will live longer lives as a result.

Can anyone tell me how to balance my checkbook? Because I don't know how.

I don't wanna grow up

2007-07-23T17:05:00.001-05:00

I watched "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" last night, just for sentimental reasons. I love the third book because we get to see how Harry's relationship with Sirius begins to unfold. There's not really as much about Voldemort in the third year, which I love. So, I watched it yet again. And I'm so sad the magic is over.

My sister came in halfway through the movie, which she has seen before. She's seen all the movies and read none of the books. I had to pause the movie a few times to explain what was going on, especially since without reading the books, you don't really know all the details. Only watching the movies will not provide enough story! You must read the books.

She would ask me questions about who Sirius was in relation to Harry and does Sirius want to kill Harry and, wait, is that the Voldemort guy? And it reminded me a lot of my mom trying to wrap her mind around time-travel in any movie or me trying to wrap my mind around the math questions from that stupid logic test I had to take to get my new job.

When I began re-reading "Half-Blood Prince" a couple weeks ago in preparation for the release of "Deathly Hallows," Carole made fun of me because, yes, I am a Harry Potter nerd, thank you very much. But, I just kept smiling an all-knowing, Dumbledore smile at her, one that said, "You really would love them if you gave them a chance." Or "Maybe there's a reason they're so popular?" Or "I am wise beyond your years because I wish I could have gone to Hogwarts instead of college!"

It's kind of like how I used to be with churches. I couldn't stand the idea of going to a big church, because Oh. No. Marketing. OhMyHell. I never stopped to question that maybe there was a reason a church was big, no matter how many times people told me to get over myself and give it a chance. And now I go to a big church and admit I was wrong and cynical to think I had organized religion cornered and undone.

Last night, as I stopped the movie yet again to explain what the hell was going on, Carole just looked at me for a moment and then said, "Oh, fine. Just go get me the first book." Finally, Carole has agreed to find out what all the fuss is about. And I'm so jealous. Carole is reading Harry Potter, and for me the magic of reading it for the first time is behind me. And I suddenly feel more grown-up than I have in months.

It's just, it's too soon to talk about it

2007-07-22T20:57:00.001-05:00

Basically, I am not really prepared to talk about Harry Potter right now. I must have another go through the book before I will feel even a tiny bit prepared to talk about it. However, who totally saw chapter 33 coming from a mile away?

Because I am not prepared to talk about Harry Potter, I must therefore talk about the other two things that have consumed my life lately.

One, I got a new job. I will start working in a couple of weeks for the same company that owns D Magazine, which probably means nothing to any of the five people who read this since it's a Dallas-related magazine. But, trust me, it's a good one. (Nicole, it's kind of like Portland Monthly.) And who knows? Maybe one of these days, I will write for the magazine, too. For now, the newspaper I'll write for is way better than the one I currently write for. Also, they pay more. Yessss! Salary! Not hourly! Success. The only thing that sucks about this new job is that I will have to drive to the Oak Lawn neighborhood of Dallas every day. This is 45 minutes from my house, so it kind of sucks. A Lot. Also, I don't really like Uptown Dallas. Too stuffy. Too many people with too much money and not enough brains. C'est la vie. I guess if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. And fight from the inside.

Two, I wonder if any of you noticed that I did not mention Weight Watchers on Thursday. I usually have some thought, something about the fact that I am trying to be healthier and get back into my cute college clothes again. And Thursday is when I always weigh in. Well, this past Thursday, I had gained weight. Not much, but a little. And it was enough to make me not want to talk about health at all ever again. I thought I was doing so well, so what happened?

I have drawn my own conclusions which I won't bother sharing here because I already sound too much like one of those women who calls her boyfriend to tell him everything she had to eat that day. However, I have decided to run. Again.

I ran for a while, "training" for a 5K because that's how out of shape I was. I barely made it the three miles without collapsing. But, I decided to train for something else, something bigger. I'm going to run this relay. I found a team through a woman at Weight Watchers who recently met her goal and started running again. And I'm going to run. And if I don't talk about it on here, if I don't hold myself accountable in some way, I won't do it. And I must!

So, anyone want to join the team? We could use a couple more players.

Mostly because Amy wanted to know

2007-07-20T09:45:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: This is perhaps the longest blog post on the damned Internet right now. Sorry. Except not really. Cause I think it's important. But! I won't mind if you don't read it all. I realize I'm not THAT riveting.

My friend Amy and I were having a discussion a few weeks ago via email about school finance and the pay for teachers and possible future career paths for both of us because we were losing our freaking minds in our shitty newspaper jobs.

(I should mention that Amy has since landed a job with Heifer International and is much happier now, and I got a new job five minutes ago at this place.)

Anyway. The conversation went something like this:

Amy: I don't like my job.
Katy: My job makes me sad.
Amy: All we do is print bad news.
Katy: The world is sad.
Amy: Our world is seriously screwed up. I wish I lived in the early 1900s when kids could run around barefoot. Except they didn't have contact lenses back then and I have really bad eyesight. But! Really! I long for simpler times.
Katy: No kidding. I've been reading all the Little House books again and I figured out why I love them so much: 1) Times were simpler; and 2) I have serious wanderlust. So to satiate my appetite for simpler times, I'm trying to un-complicate my life and eat healthier and not clean myself or my clothes with terrible chemicals that would rot my insides out. It just seems with so many conveniences we'd be able to take care of ourselves and our homes and our families a little better.
Amy: What?

This is about when the conversation turned to green things. You know, like care for creation, which Nicole wrote about quite eloquently in this post. Anyway, Amy has asked me several times since then to write a green tip of the week or something on my blog. I feel severely under qualified to do this, mostly because two of my best friends (Nicole and JenA) are much more knowledgeable than I am on this sort of thing.

JenA was, in fact, the first person who really alerted me to how simple it is to be more eco-friendly in my everyday life. She wouldn't let us use bleach in our house in Waco. She showed me how to make my own cleaning solutions from vinegar and essential oils and non-toxic castile soap. She thought green, and, even more importantly (for us, anyway), she thought cheap.

I should mention that this is one of my primary pet peeves about the green movement. I know it is cheaper in the long run (you know, the long run that slows global warming and doesn't fill up the landfills with diapers and shit) to live green. However, when I look at some of the products offered at the neighborhood Whole (Paycheck) Foods or Central Market, I kind of get a little weak in the knees with how much things cost! Oh, my hell! It costs that much to buy Seventh Generation laundry detergent? $12? $6 for dish washing liquid!? Are you F-ing kidding me? No, no thanks. I'll just continue to use my harsh caustic chemicals until the inside of my home is seven times more polluted than the air outside, thanks. Because my harsh caustic chemicals cost about half what their green-friendly counterparts cost.

Except I don't want to use harsh caustic chemicals. I don't want cancer just because I tried really hard to keep a clean kitchen. There must be a better way, right? Yes.

So, without further ado, I will (fingers crossed) humbly offer one green living tip per week on this blog. And these tips will be cheap. Green and perfect for the cheapskate in me. Or maybe the green-skate. Heheheh. The green-cheapskate who would prefer to spend the money on shoes rather than expensive earth-friendly cleaning solutions.

Most of these suggestions will be from other sources, which I will cite here. I am not creative enough to create my own methods of green and cheap, but I will gladly share the ones I've learned with you. Anyway, here's your first tip, followed by a long-ass explanation for how I feel about green living and why.

_________________________________________________________________

Not just for salads anymore!

I want a clean, germ-free surfaces in the kitchen. Germs: bad. Clean: good. However, the usual bottle of 409 All Purpose Cleaner might be doing more harm than good. A study by the Environmental Protection Agency reported that half of all illnesses in the U.S. are caused by chemical contaminants in the home. Household cleaners are three times more likely to cause cancer than outdoor air pollution. What to do!

Clean with vinegar instead. Once you've emptied your last bottle of cleaner, rinse the bottle thoroughly and let it air dry. In that spray bottle, combine equal parts white vinegar and water. Add a few drops of an essential oil such as lavender, lemon or tee tree oil. For a large bottle, use five to 10 drops. For a smaller bottle use two to three. Lavender, lemon and tee tree oil all have antiviral, antibiotic, anti fungal and antibacterial properties, according to this book I'm reading called the Naturally Clean Home. Also, they smell good. Bonus! Add a tablespoon or two of liquid castile soap (Dr. Bronner's is awesome) to the bottle, seal it up and shake it like a Polaroid picture. Spray that on your surfaces to clean up germs without polluting the air inside your home. For spills that require a little more elbow grease to clean up, keep a box of baking soda handy. Sprinkle the baking soda on the surface to be cleaned before spraying with the vinegar mixture. Give the baking soda and cleaning solution a chance to sit and then wipe up with a sponge or a cotton towel if you have one handy.

Cost for 16 ounce bottle of homemade cleaner: less than $2. A gallon of white vinegar runs about $1.50. An essential oil of your choice costs about $4. Water is free (or at least you are paying for it anyway). A 16-ounce bottle of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap (a.k.a. castile soap) costs about $12, or less than $1 per ounce or less than 50 cents per half-ounce. Add that up: half-ounce castile soap (50 cents), a few drops of essential oil (pennies! at most!), eight ounces white vinegar (50 cents) and water (free). Voila! Success! And so cheap.

It kind of hurt my brain to divide up the cost of the different ingredients in that concoction, but I'm better now. Onward!

There! That wasn't so hard. I thought this would be much more difficult, but, hey! not too bad. That was relatively painless. And yes, I know I am on only my first "tip" (if you can call it that, since Jen really is the one who shared that one with me and I didn't create it at all). I'm sure this will get more outlandish and, um, creative. But! It's the creativity I'm excited about. I figure, if I have an outlet for this information, a place where I'm required to input information, that will serve as a motivator to learn some more stuff about being clean and green and CHEAP.

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Why? Whyyyyy does it matter to me?

I wrote a story (which I've copied at the bottom of this post in case any of you want to read it and just because I'm aiming to write the longest blog post ever) last year on a local pastor in Waco who was the first clergy member in Texas to sign the Evangelical Call on the Care of Creation, so not taking any steps to live more green-friendly? It kind of made me feel like a hypocrite. Here I was writing stories about people making an effort to live with Jesus and the creation in mind and I wasn't doing it. Because it seemed to cost so damn much.

And this is about when JenA came in with her vinegar-is-cheap-and-doesn't-harm-the-earth and we-can-water-the-lawn-with-that-gray-water-leaking-out-of-the-air-conditioning-unit and don't-you-dare-throw-that-aluminum-can-into-anything-but-these-recycling-baskets-right-here. Oh, and the telling me to just get a box fan instead of living like a polar bear and using ridiculous amounts of energy, even for a west-facing apartment in Texas in the middle of the summer.

My approach to green living comes from one simple philosophy: it is perhaps the most important thing I can do to care for the poor. Of course, not everyone agrees that global warming brings on extreme weather events like Hurricane Katrina and the draught in Darfur, but I believe climate change has a hand in it. And the most tragic part? is that those who have the smallest eco footprints, those who live in the least industrialized nations, they're the ones who will feel the effects of global warming first. How is that fair? I can just crank up the AC and stay inside my cushy house on Ozone Alert Days. People in other nations can't do that. And if I say that I want to help the poorest of the poor, doesn't that mean taking a good hard look at how I live here? Yes.

God's green earth: Local pastor takes environmental focus
Published April 13, 2006
By Katy Moore
Tribune-Herald staff writer

When pastor Scott Freeman prayed last year for God to help him be more loving toward other people, the Hewitt resident thought perhaps God would direct him to be a bit more extroverted with his congregation at Northside Church of Christ in Bellmead.

Freeman describes himself as something of an introvert, which may seem contradictory for someone who speaks from a pulpit every Sunday morning. But he notes that preaching is a private, one-dimensional thing. It's easy to go back and forth between his study and the pulpit without interacting much with his parishioners, he said.

So Freeman did not expect that he would become a part of an evangelical movement to encourage environmental awareness. Nor did he anticipate the attention he's recently received from the Dallas Morning News and the British Broadcasting Corporation. On Sunday a crew from the BBC was present during the church's morning service and interviewed Freeman for a documentary on evangelicals and the environment. In September, Freeman joined nearly 100 other church leaders nationwide in signing the Evangelical Declaration on the Care of Creation, a call for environmental awareness from religious conservatives.

"Because we worship and honor the Creator, we seek to cherish and care for the creation," the declaration states. "Because we have sinned, we have failed in our stewardship of creation. Therefore we repent of the way we have polluted, distorted, or destroyed so much of the Creator's work."

Before he began researching green-friendly issues, Freeman thought of concern for the environment as a bunch of "liberal politics." But his view has changed, and he now considers caring for creation part of a larger call - to care for the poor.

"When I began to pray the prayer, I thought God would move me toward loving people in my own congregation more, but I think he had bigger plans for me in that I began to love everyone more," he said. "It began to help me rethink some of my long-held convictions and misconceptions about people. I began to question my political views, my sociological views, everything."

Freeman said those questions brought up more questions - about how he might be understanding Jesus' call to be a steward of creation. He said he began to contemplate what it meant to have "dominion" over creation. Many Christians believe God gives humans dominion, or authority, over the earth, which Freeman said he thinks many people could take to mean dominance rather than stewardship.

"I'm not chaining myself to any trees or anything like that, I'm just trying to take more personal responsibility," he said, explaining how his family is getting more deliberate about recycling and the efficient use of energy.

"That's one of the things I loved about this initiative," he said. "It wasn't in support of any specific legislation or in conjunction with any political party. It was a group of conservative Christians saying we acknowledge that this is true, and it's time for us to be a voice."

kmoore@wacotrib.com
757-5730
(c) 2006 Cox Newspapers, Inc. - Waco Tribune-Herald

In J.K. Rowling we trust

2007-07-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

OK, I think it's time, once again to talk about Harry Potter. Because the whole world, including my co-workers at Chili's and at the newspaper office, is talking about Harry Potter.

Tonight, because it was SOOO SLOOOOW at the restaurant, a group of five or six of us stood around speculating on whether or not Harry is a horcrux (in my humble opinion, that circumstance would be a little too deus ex machina) and whether or not Harry will die in the final volume, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."

And then this stupid guy walked up and said we were all ridiculous for spending so much time discussing a children's book and oh by the way, Harry Potter dies in the end. This, of course, I do not believe, because I'm pretty sure Deni was just jerking us around and likely has not read any of the books himself.

But when I got home, I read a book review from the New York Times, and, though the reviewer gave no specifics and nothing feels spoiled at all for me, the reviewer did say that Rowling created an epic hero. Which to me says maybe he won't die!? But I'm still not sure. Epic heroes return home to their loved ones. Tragic heroes die. Could the end of this book be a blend of both literary traditions?

If I were the writer, Ron and Hermione would die and this would motivate Harry to complete the task before him. Of course, this would not happen without some temptation to give up his quest at the outset of his journey, a temptation which has grown, however subtly, throughout the series and one he will face for the final time in the seventh book.

However, I'm not the writer, and J.K. Rowling didn't ask my opinion. I must conclude that, as Sarah said junior year, we must simply trust that, like Jesus, J.K. Rowling knows best. Guess we'll just have to trust her.

I'm ruined on all other fiction for at least the next month, by the way, unless it includes stories of wizards. It might be time to read the Tolkien books. I am so behind.

Opening a can of whoop-ass

2007-07-16T15:18:00.000-05:00

So, I've been working part-time at Chili's for a while now. I feel so old there, because so many of the other servers are still in their first and second years of college. Some only just graduated from high school.

One server is a guy named Matt who no one likes and everyone avoids because he is just generally disagreeable. He is 18 and makes it a point to call the other servers such names as slut, bitch, whore, fucker, etc. Sorry to use so many such words at once on my blog, but, you know, for the sake of the story, I kind of have to. This kid, Matt, called me a motherfucker on Saturday. Rude rude.

I happen to know this kid has had kind of a rough past, so I've made an effort to be sincerely kind to him. Not patronizing, but just kind, helping him out if he needs it, regardless of whether he will ever return the favor. However, the other day showed me that I needed to draw a line in the sand.

One of my close friends in Waco was a girl I worked with at the newspaper named Kate. Through Kate, I got to know a woman named Stephanie, a pastor of a tiny country United Church of Christ outside of Waco in a little blink-of-an-eye town called Gerald. I often went with Kate to Gerald for dinners and parties and such and learned that Stephanie worked part time at Talitha Koum, a ministry geared toward helping families who have been in poverty for generations in South Waco. Stephanie caught ringworm more than once because of spending time with the children at Talitha Koum, many of whom were so neglected that they carried the infection.

I suppose I should stop right now and explain that the reason I am telling you this story is not because I am about to go on some diatribe about social justice, although I probably could. Instead, the reason I am telling you about Talitha Koum is because Stephanie taught me how to handle really poorly-behaved people (children or adults) with her stories about working there.

When Stephanie would take care of the kids, many were so neglected at home that they never had proper behavior modeled for them. They would call her a fucking bitch, and she would look them in the eyes and say, "Don't call me fucking bitch. My name is Stephanie." By repeating the words back to them, she removed the shock value from it, demonstrating that they were not surprising anyone when they used such words.

When Matt called me motherfucker on Saturday, I was so surprised that I didn't say anything at all but just turned and walked away. I was so surprised by his outburst that I just kept my mouth shut. I truly had no response. When I went home that night, I thought about what to say to this kid, the kid no one respects or likes and who everyone avoids.

On Sunday, a manager called for someone in the kitchen to perform some menial task, something small that just needed doing. I stepped up right as this Matt kid sullenly said he would do it. Annoyed at me, he watched me working and muttered, "stupid bitch" under his breath. I'm not sure why he bothered except that maybe he gets annoyed when other people make him look bad. Without even blinking, I turned to him and said, "Don't call me stupid bitch. My name is Katy."

And then a miraculous thing happened. This kid who hates everyone and wastes no time in demeaning anyone around him or putting down others stared at my firm expression, taken aback that someone finally drew a line in the sand. Perplexed, he drew back in regret and immediately apologized, shocked that anyone finally bothered to confront him.

And then he gave me a hug.

I doubt seriously whether I will ever have problems with this kid again. Booyah.

Emily Post would lose her mind

2007-07-13T12:12:00.000-05:00

So, I have an awkward etiquette question for you five people who read this blog. OK, four people since JenA already has given her opinion.

My good friend Jessika is getting married in California in September. In a fairly recent conversation, I had mentioned that since I don't know anyone who will be at her wedding other than she and her fiance, I would probably drag my friend Ardy along, since he lives nearby, I don't get to see him much and I really won't know anyone. She cheerfully said that was a good idea.

My invitation arrived in the mail yesterday, and, just as I was filling out the R.S.V.P. card, I noticed that the front of the envelope simply said "Miss Katy Moore." No "and guest," no "plus one." There is a place to write in the number of guests attending on the R.S.V.P. card, but what to do?

I already have consulted Miss Manners' archives and Emily Post's Web site, and, of course, etiquette dictates not to ask if I may bring a guest and not to bring one uninvited. But! I mentioned it ages in advance! And she agreed with it being a good idea! And I'm coming from out of town and have already bought my ticket! And what to do!?

Of course, I haven't received a thank you note for the gift I sent weeks ago after her Texas wedding shower, which I could not attend, so maybe rules of etiquette are kind of flexible in this case. Hmmm. Any thoughts from any married ladies?