March 17th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Hi, hello, hi. I’m like . . . 3/4 Irish and today is like . . . MY HERITAGE DAY. And, as I stated there in the title, I’m the worst Irish person ever.

I’m wearing green, I’ve got the reddish hair and green eyes to go with it, but I don’t really CELEBRATE on St. Patrick’s Day. I call my brother (Patrick) and ask him “Who’s your Paddy?” My shirt says “Everyone Loves an Irish Girl” (and should then have the disclaimer “but hates their temper”) and all that stuff. I’m just not very good at being Irish, what with the whole not drinking beer or liking corned beef and cabbage thing.

Now, I’ve had my run-ins with beer. Just a few of them. I may wear the stuff, but I just don’t drink it. In fact, I would rather drink pee than drink beer. I’m so not kidding. I think it smells like rear and, from the few random drops that have touched my lips thanks to people who can’t stop spilling beer on me, it takes like rear too.

So, as you can see, I don’t do my Irish heritage justice . . . the only Irish food I really like is potatoes. I think the amount of love I have for potatoes might make up for the other stuff, but I doubt the average Irishman would agree with me.

So, on the day of Irish drunkenness, I encourage all of you who aren’t Irish to celebrate my Irish heritage in my place. Just because I don’t drink beer doesn’t mean you can’t. That is, if you like the taste of rear. ENJOY!

March 15th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

OK here she be. The continuation-ay of the longest.soap opera.ever. Seriously. We’re only like, three months into the TWO YEAR SAGA. Mommy, hold me.

To catch up, go here, which has a link to the post that has all the links. Got that?

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San Francisco was finally where things with Matt started to get . . . interesting.  I had brought one of my best girlfriends on the trip, and we were assigned to sleep in the guest bedroom at Matt’s parents house.  We were staying there for one night  before heading to the Russian River Valley.  The guest room had a full size bed for us to share.  Matt was assigned to sleep in his sister’s bedroom on the floor (and then Matt’s guest, who for purposes of this story we will call Stink Foot (trust me, he deserves that name and someday I’ll tell that story) was on the couch in the family room.)

We all went off to bed after our late night San Francisco sightseeing adventure.  At about 2 AM, my girlfriend and I awoke to the door squeaking open.  Matt asked if he could join us.  I wasn’t exactly going to say no (have I mentioned he was hot?) . . . so he hopped in the bed on my side and snuggled up next to me.  The THREE of us slept in the bed all night and Matt got TOTALLY busted by his Mom in the morning, seeing that he was in a bed with TWO girls and NOT in his assigned sleeping quarters.  Despite “sleeping together” that night, there had been no kissing.

That day we drove to the cabin, which was awesome.  It had a large bedroom in the back and then a sleeping porch that contained three queen size beds and then two twins.  Matt had invited his best friend who was married with a darling little boy.  They claimed the bedroom and the rest of us (there was quite a group of us at this point because more people just kept showing up) hauled our stuff to the sleeping porch.  We all claimed a bed of our own, since there were so many.  We were less than a block from the river and only a few miles from the nearest town.  We had meal plans and bathing suits and that was about it.

The first night we were there, we watched a movie and went to bed pretty late.  We all climbed in our own beds and turned off the lights.  I was in a queen and Matt was in one of the twins.  Within about half an hour, Matt scooted out of his bed and came to snuggle with me.  (Memo to all of you there were like TEN people all sharing this one room.)  that’s all that happened.  Cuddling, snuggling, hugging.  Nothing else.

The second night we were there . . . snuggling.  By this time Matt had abandoned his own bed and just started hanging out in mine.  I’m sure our parents would have been appalled, but again, TEN PEOPLE IN ONE ROOM.  What could really happen?

The third and final night, for some reason Matt and I were totally wired after everyone went to bed.  We were lying there laughing our heads off, covering our faces with pillows trying not to wake the other people in the room.  I can’t remember what was so freaking funny, but we were crying we were laughing so hard.  After about two hours, we calmed down enough to keep it to a giggle, and we were lying there facing each other, just giggling . . . and finally, it happened . . . Matt kissed me.  One single, tender kiss.  Then he hugged me tight, and we both started laughing again.

That was not only our first kiss . . . it was also our last.

March 14th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Since moving into our house I’ve pretty much done NO decorating whatsoever. I had the living/dining room and kitchen painted three days before we moved and then I got good and lazy and have done nothing else except decorative towels in the master bathroom. But I really don’t think that counts. It stinks because it’s hard to have people over. The last time someone rang our doorbell the first thing they said was “Oh! Did you just move in?” Yeah, no. Almost six months ago.

I’ve got a dining room table and side table in the living/dining room and that’s pretty much it. My hope chest is in there, but, oh yeah, it’s empty because the box of stuff that belongs in it is sitting NEXT to it. There isn’t paint on any of the walls except the aforementioned. I don’t even know what COLORS I want (which is so weird for me). The office is a mess, the guest room is a hodge podge and the empty room is . . . well . . . empty.

This has got to stop. The time has come to decorate. This weekend I’m paint shopping. It’s a difficult task for me because I can’t just pick a color. I have to buy samples of like, ten colors then paint swatches on the walls. My house looks like a patchwork quilt when I do this. It’s ugly, yet effective. Then I’m calling Willy to come paint because once you hire someone to paint, you never want to go back. He’s cheap, it looks fantastic and is ALL DONE in one day. What more could an impatient girl ask for?

I’m going to attempt to get the master bedroom/bathroom and the family room done in the next couple of weeks. I have an idea for what I’m going to do in the guest bedroom (bright and happy and yellow!) and Matt is totally on his own with his study. The empty bedroom shall stay empty for now. At least the part of the house where we spend most of our time will look good. Hopefully.

I’m thinking red for the family room. Well red and tan. It matches the kitchen and I LOVE it and miss it from the old house. Matt isn’t the biggest fan but he can decorate his garage if he wants. For the master . . . I’m not sure. If I do red and tan in the family room and the master is close to it, can I get away with green? Like a nice, mellow sagey green? The issue is that the OLD bedroom was sagey green and ivory and, while I loved it, methinks it’s time for a change, but I don’t know WHAT to change to! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Calling all decorative minds to help me!!

Should you need reminders of what the house looks like, here is a link to the post with all the pictures of the new house, and just for fun here are pictures of the old house (with the red I love and the green in the master). Beware, the pictures in the new house were taken right after we moved in and still very messy. And yes, the bed has moved out of the family room, despite Matt’s insistence that sleeping in front of the big TV was “what all the cool kids are doing.”

March 13th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Uhhh so when did someone decide Easter would be in March? And that daylight savings would be too? (Not that I care about daylight savings because we here in Arizona are rebels and REFUSE to change our clocks.) If I remember correctly, in most states, spring hasn’t really . . . sprung until April-ish. And from what I’ve heard about this particular horrific winter, the snow isn’t going anywhere and those of you who ski will continue to do so into, well, how about JULY?

I realize I have nothing to complain about. Easter here will be just like every other day has been lately. Balmy and 75. (Wipe the jealousy off your faces. Trust you me, you won’t be jealous anymore when I’m literally on fire in July.) It just seems unfair to make all the little kiddies search for eggs in their stay-puff marshmallow man outfits. Also, I’m going to guess that picking up an egg with gloves on is going to cause many a broken eggshell. I guess hiding the eggs won’t be too hard. Just forget dying them and throw them out in the snow. Nobody will see them EVER! On the bright side, the chocolate won’t melt. You’ll just have to thaw it out.

I think I’m bitter that Easter is coming because of my new, nazi-esque diet. I can’t have my beloved Cadburry Mini Eggs. I can’t eat box after box of Peeps. I’m dreaming of Startburst Jelly Beans and I can’t have them. It’s the best candy season of the year and the only dessert I’m getting is cheesecake made with fat free cottage cheese. It’s better than no dessert, yet so NOT better than a green Starburst jelly bean. Or an entire bag of them.

Now excuse me while I go force myself to eat yet another nutrition bar. Peanut Butter Fudge my butt. Tastes like chalk.

March 12th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Today marks four years since my Dad and a Half Mike passed away. I wrote a lot about his life last year, and I cry every time I read it. He was such an amazing, loving man and I cannot say enough how incredibly lucky I feel to have had him as part of my life for five short years.

I visit his grave every time I go home and bring him a Diet Coke. I don’t think there’s been a time that I’ve gone up there that there isn’t evidence of someone else who loved him bringing him a little treat. Some gum, more Diet Coke, new wind chimes for him to listen to (oh how he loved wind chimes). . . it reminds me that there wasn’t a person alive, even his ex-wife, who hated him. He was loved by everyone who met him and had such an amazing, positive effect on the world.

I know he’s busy in heaven, probably doing security checks on the gates and making sure everyone sleeps well at night. I also know without a doubt that he is still watching over and protecting his family and friends, just like he always did. In less than two weeks, I will have the privilege of being sealed in the temple to Mike, my mother and my sweet sister. This may not have significant meaning for most of you, but to me, this is the most amazing, most important part of what I believe and I am overwhelmed with joy at the thought.

Mike, you are still loved immensely and missed more than words can say. I will never, as long as I live, forget you and can’t wait to see you again.

March 11th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Anyone who hates coming back to real life after a four day weekend raise your hands.

That’s all of you then, yes? Yeah, go ahead and count me in.

I have ZERO desire to be at work this week. I’m still exhausted from my weekend. It was not exactly relaxing and entailed a LOT of driving. I actually really like road trips by myself because I can listen to whatever I want and sing at the top of my lungs. I just hate sitting on my butt for that long, then coming back to work and sitting on my butt again. How can sitting on one’s butt make one so dang tired?

Getting back on the diet/exercise wagon sort of sucked too. Have I mentioned I’m on a serious diet/exercise plan? I can’t remember if I did, but I am. It sucks but I am DETERMINED TO LOSE THIS EXTRA BAGGAGE. (And Grandpa had nothing to do with it. For the record.) I did some cardio over the weekend but the diet didn’t do so well. I may or may not have had a lot of pizza. And macaroni and cheese. And these delicious s’more dessert things. And some cookies. Ahem. Needless to say, going back to chicken breast, brown rice and vegetables wasn’t exactly easy. BUT I DID IT! And I went to the gym last night. And ow, my legs hurt. I gained a pound over the weekend which is actually surprising, but in a good way. I really thought it would be more. I’m trying not to worry about weight exactly . . . more like looseness of my favorite, now too small jeans. But I have to look at my weight too, just to be sure. Trust me, it cannot come off fast enough. Yet I still hate it. HATE IT. But I’m doing it dangit.

On top of those things that I don’t want to do, there is also this play I’m in . . . it’s the musical Hello Dolly! and my church is doing it and I volunteered to be in it. And now I loathe it. I hate my character, I hate the play, I hate the music, I hate the time I’m wasting at rehearsals . . . and it’s all my fault for volunteering. And now, tonight, I have another rehearsal. And two more this week. And three more every week until the END OF MAY. And I have a dress rehearsal on my anniversary. And over Memorial Day Weekend so we can’t GO anywhere. Thhhbbbppp.

Anyone “know a guy” who can maybe run into me with his car and break a leg or two so I don’t have to work, exercise OR be in the play? That sound nice. Oh so nice.

March 10th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

Sheesh it’s been depressing around here! I’m about to try to change that but first I need to thank you all for your sweet comments. My friend and his wife are doing SO well in spite of the horrible circumstances. It was a beautiful service on Friday celebrating the short life of their gorgeous little girl. I don’t often speak of my religious beliefs here, but is one of the times I can’t help it. I am so very grateful for the knowledge I have that my friends will be able to be with their baby again someday and that she will be able to watch over and protect their family until they can be together forever. It makes a tragedy like this so much easier to stomach.

OK enough with the depression and the likes. Moving on to a funny story.

I have the world’s coolest Grandparents and I try to spend as much time with them as possible. After the services on Friday I decided to drive the hour to their house and spend the rest of the weekend with them. I arrived in the late evening and we spent the rest of the night chatting. My Grandparents are total night owls and it’s not unusual to be up with them until 2 or 3 in the morning. We talk about all kinds of random things and these talks are some of my favorite things in the world.

At some point, late in the evening, I was wrapped in a blanket on the couch (my Grandparents have apparently, along with their hearing, lost all sense of temperature. It was FREEZING!) my Grandpa looks over towards me and says

“Katie, have you been losing weight?”

“Why yes I have!” And in my head I’m thinking “In fact I’m hardcore dieting and exercising and thank jeebus SOMEONE noticed!”

“Well I wouldn’t have said anything before, but you’ve really let yourself go over the past couple of years, so I’m glad to hear you’re doing something about it now.”

Eh. Er. Wha . . . SCUSE ME?

Now, I’m the first to admit I’m not the nicely toned girl I was in college, but LET MYSELF GO? Uh, not a chance. Sure I’ve gained a few pounds . . . sure I’m trying to get it off BUT I DID NOT LET MYSELF GO. Also, I was COMPLETELY WRAPPED IN A BLANKET. The only part of me that was sticking out? Yeah, my HEAD. My very well taken care of, night creamed, highlighted hair HEAD. Let myself go my butt.

I couldn’t really be offended by what he said. This is the man who can’t says stuff like this ALL the time.

“Katie, you were a real pain in the butt when you were young but you’ve turned out to be a fine young lady.”

Or, “You’re not fat sweetie, you’re just hefty.”

OR my personal favorite, “Big girls like you shouldn’t wear high heels. It’s bad for your feet and back.”

I don’t know if he’s capable of giving a real compliment. He was trying to tell me I look better than I did a few months ago, and for that I’m grateful but I was DYING laughing after his poor attempt. I had to cover my face with a blanket to stifle the laughter.

He’s lucky I have a sense of humor. When I left for my workout the next morning I left him a note on the counter that said “For fear of letting myself go again, I woke up early this morning to go for a run. Be back in about an hour!”

March 5th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

You get a call and the person on the other line says “I have bad news . . . I don’t even know how to say this.”

They start out by telling you that one of your dear friends and his wife were blessed with the birth of a new baby girl last Monday and that according to everyone, she was a perfect little angel. They go on to tell you that the Friday after she was born, her mother started to worry because she wasn’t eating well and wasn’t behaving normally. She took her to the doctor and was told to rush the baby to the hospital. A few hours later, the baby was gone . . . it was an infection of some sort in her blood.

She was five days old.

There are no words.

Today, for the first time in three years, I spoke to the parents of the baby. I had no idea what to say. How do you tell someone you grieve with them when you have no idea what their loss feels like? How do you express your sorrow when you’ve never experienced anything like it? They were so sweet and understanding of my stammering, awkward condolences. So grateful for the words I could come up with. I am in awe of their strength and kindness and resilience.

I will be at the funeral services this Friday. I’m sure finding words then will be even more difficult then than it was over the phone today. It will feel especially strange because of how long it’s been since I saw them. It’s sad to think that it’s tragedy that brings us together after so long, yet I don’t feel too badly about it because I believe that this is exactly what God gave us friends for. To be there for the good times, yes, but more importantly, to be there for the bad. Even if a million other people are there, all closer to my friend than I, I’m glad that he will see my face in the crowd and know that I care. I believe that says more than words.

March 1st, 2008 by Kateastrophe

It’s my first Soap Opera Sunday on my new blog! YAY! I’m very excited.

Thanks to Canadian Flake for hosting today. She’s one of my favoritist bloggers ever.

Linking to my story is getting very lengthy and annoying, so I’ll just send you here, which is last week’s story and all the links to the ones before. It’s very long and drawn and will continue to be so. Sorry ’bout that.

Oh and if you need rules and details of the awesome Soap Opera Sunday, Brillig has them all posted here.

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I met Matt through an old friend named Kyle. They were roommates at the time. I was spending a lot of time at Kyle’s apartment because a friend of mine was dating Kyle and she had sort of taken me under her wing as her “newly single friend.”

Matt was different than any guy I’d ever dated. He really smart, in KILLER shape, working a great job, making more money than any guy I’d ever dated . . . oh and he was an inch shorter than me. He too had just ended a serious relationship and we were both just sort of . . . casually looking. Since I was at his apartment all the time, we hung out, talked about music, watched movies and found out we had a lot in common and a lot of fun together.

Kyle was off to some foreign country for the summer and after he left . . . I just sort of kept hanging out with Matt. We soon were into a routine. We got off work, went to the gym, (I was in the best shape of my LIFE having just lost 18 pounds accidentally, AND I was working out every day. Oh how I miss that body), went tanning and then got together to go to dinner and a movie (either at the theatre or at his house.). Very soon we were getting more and more affectionate and I started to think of him as my boyfriend, except we hadn’t kissed. And we never really even got close. We just sort of . . . snuggled.

Matt was awesome. I loved everything about him — except his ex-girlfriend. SHE WAS CRAZY!!! She happened to be a solid 5 inches taller than him AND was half Samoan and she was not happy that they weren’t together anymore. She’d come over to his house and BREAK HIS BEDROOM DOOR DOWN. At one point she threw his PDA across a parking lot and kicked the side of his car. OH and they WORKED TOGETHER. I’d never met her but I was seriously scared of Crazy Girl. After run-ins with her Matt would be moody and need space for a few days. It was annoying but she wasn’t really around enough to cause TOO many problems.  I think Matt was her first love and she was having a hard time moving on . . . that did scare me just a little.

About three months into our “relationship” we decided to get a bunch of friends together and go to his family’s cabin near the Russian River in Northern California. We would be spending four glorious days there. I would meet his Northern California friends, we would have great food and it would be romantic. On this trip, I was determined that Matt and I would FINALLY kiss and would be official at last.

Oh, and I should probably mention . . . Richard was still calling me every once in a while. You know . . . just to chat. And because I was a total dolt, I was still taking his calls.