Like The Flash....

Ok, this has to be quick. Due to the roommate changing situation, we ain't got no net right now. :(

I had a car accident. We broke up. That is all.

More later!
~K

Post Secret/Weekend Update

This weeks PS hits home. The co-dependant clusterfuck that is my family sometimes just gets to be too much and I wish I could just walk away. But I love them....they're my history. So I stay.

Nothing to report for the weekend, really.
~K

"And I know that we're gonna be fine
And the tattooed mistakes
Are gonna fade over time
As long as we live, time passes by
And we won't get it back when we die"
Bowling For Soup-When We Die

Brain Droppings*

Morning! I can't sleep yet because Addie emptied a container of Vaseline on herself, her hair, and my bedsheets, which are currently in the dryer. The sheets, not Addie. I thought I'd take the time to post a blog. I have some minor things to say, but nothing real major. Hence the title "Brain Droppings"

Webcomics
I've added more! ST is about a group of friends who write a comic together, and their outlying social circle. It's full of soap opera like twists. Made me laugh until I cried. PNP is about a lesbian retail worker and her girlfriend. Drawn by the same talent as ST. Cute. OB has awesome cartoon graphics, and outrageously funny story lines. Orneyboy is a goth half-empty who lives with his vegan optimist gf Dirtygirl, their two cats (one of whom is was turned into an octianus by the Necronomicon {I own a copy! I'll have to try that at my next party!}) and their pet zombie, Brian. (See?!? Hilarity!) Check them out, huh?

Avatar
I changed my Yahoo Avatar to reflect my new business venture. Any ideas on what it is? (And no, I'm not pulling an Anna Nichole)

Job Hunt
The job hunt is going slow. Should pick up this week though, I have two interviews. One is for a part time position, which would be awesome with the kiddo and starting the new gig. Wish me luck!

Health
I don't have cancer! For those of you who didn't know it was possible. Now it's not, but that also means it's probably another issue. More on that when I know for sure. In the meantime, just send happy thoughts my way, ok?

Roommates
M is moving out at the end of the month, and tonight I learned C&K are too! Woot! Place to ourselves! I talked to David, and he's going to stay. We haven't had an issue (other than having to share my computer at the moment...PLLLLEASE hurry Geek Squad!) and he loves being around Addie full time. Nate's all for it, so everyone seems to be on board. David and I always said we wished there was a way we could live together without killing each other. Turns out a live in boyfriend is the answer. Who knew? :P

Well, I think that's the gist of it. Stay tuned for the next post!
~K

"Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe"
Anna Nalick-Breathe

Post Secret of the week & Weekend Update

I collect Post Secrets like they're trading cards. Some I keep because I can relate, some I keep because they remind me of friends, and some are just too funny not to keep. There were a couple I kept from this week's batch, but none really applied to my life ATM, so I delved into my stash and pulled this one out. One of the things that I love best about that site is that at least once a week there's a card that makes me think "Gee, I thought *I* was the only one that thought/felt that..." When I found this card, I was ecstatic. I don't feel so odd now. :)

*Warning! The following monologue has several instances that could be considered TMI. Proceed with caution.*


So...the weekend. Saturday I woke up with a bug up my butt and cleaned the house hardcore. By hardcore I mean I was dusting baseboards even. Heth and I were supposed to go to a concert in Lawrence, but decided not to, so we just went out to dinner at Cheeseburger in Paradise IMO they have the *best* spinach dip in KC, bar none. Locals, if you check out the Legends locale, sit at the bar and ask for Steve. He rocks. Afterwards we hit Wal-Mart for playing cards, and I purchased 20 million binders for a business endeavor I'm planning (more about that later this week)...which I left in Heth's trunk at the end of the night. :/ We went back to my place for Appletini's and poker with Nate. (To his credit, he didn't drink the Tini's. He's a manly man. He drank a Boulevard Wheat!) We played poker, and I won of course (second time this week I've kicked his ass at poker!) It was late, so Heth crashed there. I went upstairs but wasn't sleepy, so thought I'd pop into the local all night diner for some hashbrowns and coffee while I worked on business stuff.


Now, I should mention at this point that David has been driving my car for the past two weeks plus. I've used it once in that time. I get in and there is this HORRID knocking coming from the glove box. I pull back into the drive, and ask Nate to take a look at it. He can't figure it out, but says since it's not coming from the engine, it's not dangerous. (That logic escapes me as the sound was coming from the air bag, but ok...) I get online to research it and find that Explorers have an issue where the door to the housing for the little motor that switches the car from heat to cool (as in A/C vs. Heater) will break and hit the motor. Long story short, it's a grand to have a shop fix, a pain in the ass to fix yourself, or I can just rip out the door through the glove box and deal. Considering I haven't had air since two weeks after I bought the car (thanks to David's Sadim (Midas backwards....everything you touch turns to shit...Pat Conroy "Prince of Tides" reference) touch regarding A/C's in new vehicles) I'm just pulling it out and I'll worry about it come next May. I prefer REAL air anyway and usually just roll down the windows.


So I head downstairs to tell Nate all this...and about the second of 15 steps down, my feet decide they're sick of all this walking and go on strike. I start to fall forward and throw myself backwards, landing on my ass, and kinda ski down the stairs, playing human pinball because my elbows are trying to stop me. (They were pretty fucked up for their efforts, too.) I land at the bottom, too hurt to cry, but luckily Nate heard the crashing and figured out rather quickly what it was, so he appeared in the doorway about two seconds after I landed. He was quite comforting, and helped me to the couch. I went to the bathroom to survey the damage, which, from my view, was a rather bruised left elbow, and a right elbow that hurt just as bad, but was sucking it up and refusing to show any sign of injury. (He thinks the left elbow is a pussy.) I wonder to myself if my ass is bruised at all since it is spasming with white hot flashes of pain, so I drop trou and look. It was purple...and red....'cause it was bleeding. Somehow I ripped my flesh apart. I had to wake up Heth to administer first aid (she's a nurse) and I was a tad worried I was going to have to get ass stitches. (It appears your posterior bleeds a lot. No really. A LOT.) She managed to staunch the flow and bandaged me up (I don't think I've ever had a band-aid on my butt before.) I gently fold myself into bed and try to remember (mostly unsuccessfully to not put weight on my elbows when I turn.) I fall into a fitful sleep.



Sunday I wake up around 2 p.m. (What? I fell at six am and finally made it to bed at 8!) and every muscle in my body is killing me. I've been in car accidents and didn't hurt this much after. I should mention that I've never been in a bad accident though, knock on recycling-company-sponsored-saved-from-the-dozer-rainforest-wood. (I'm trying to add some current events here. Sue me.) I was supposed to go down to my mom's to hear about her recent trip to California and snag some souvenirs around one. I get up, take some meds, and call her. When I tell her what happened, she suggests we meet for dinner instead. I get Addie ready and we head out. We have a nice dinner, Addie gets awesome souvenirs (a tee-shirt that came in handy....keep reading....and this kick-ass Sleeping Beauty bank.) I got some bath salts my sister made in Cali, and these J Lo sunglasses/ski goggles that make me look like a bug. I'll be handing those off to Cass. Nate got a t-shirt. (I was so fucking touched my mom got him something I cried. I'm such a girl.) After dinner I stop by Payless to get Addie some winter shoes, because the only thing she has ATM is sandals, and the temps have dropped here. The saleslady was a complete bitch, to the point that I was ready to just leave without the shoes but my mom pointed out I shouldn't disappoint Addie just because the lady sucked. Now, I have to interject that Addie's been battling a bit of a bug this weekend. At the shoe store she passed some gas that sounded like a trucker letting out his Jake brake. There was another family shopping at the same time, and we had all talked, joked, etc. The son, who was about 16, was playing with Addie, chasing her around. Mom went to get Addie and he said he'd bring her....picked her up and turned her on her side....can you see where this is going? The contents of the pull-up allllll spilled out...onto the floor...Addie's clothes....the kid's clothes....EVERYWHERE. Long story short, the family was TOTALLY cool about it all...the saleslady was pissed but acted nice, letting me clean up Addie (who rode home in a diaper fashioned from a bandana and a Wal-Mart bag, and in her new shirt from California). We got home, I threw the kiddo in the tub, and all was well.



So...that was my weekend. How was yours? :)

~K

"Ain't that a "b" with an itch
Ain't that a mother trucker"
Bowling For Soup - A Friendly Goodbye
(What else do you think fits for this post?!?)

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

I've always wanted to use that as a subject line. Come to think of it, maybe I have before. Hrmm. Point of the story-

You might have noticed that I've added some things to the right hand navigational bar. (Notice I pretend more people than just Cass read this...and not just when I tell her too.)

I felt like posting, but don't feel like sharing my recent major life events just yet, so I thought I'd review these changes:

Welcome Message- Self explanetory.

Pictures- See above.

Books- Just click the links to find out about them.

Webcomics- I should note that these are for ADULTS, and adults alone. I highly reccomend starting at the first comic and reading from there, but I'll cover the high points. CAD is a gamer comic, consisting of a bunch of gamer roommates, and games. Anyone who has ever been a gamer...or dated one *raises hand* can appreciate. DS is one I'm newer to, stumbled across it via another comic. It's cute, though not very deep. Robots and porn stars, what's not to like. LICD is awesome. If the author liked fat chicks, I'd propose. Revolves around a group of friends, center player being the biggest asshole you've ever met...and yet, you still love him. LFG, another gamer comic, this is more for those D&D players out there *raises other hand* (What? I don't play anyMORE....though I first met Nate as my first DM.)

Hip Mamas-I wandered into Meetup.org the other day and this group caught my eye. Addie and I have our first meeting with them next week! I'm sure I'll post all about it. :)

Well, sadly, that's it. I suppose it's off to bed for me now. Ciao!
~K

"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind"
The Pixies-Where Is My Mind
(Yeah, I know it doesn't fit...but it's stuck in my head. Sue me.)

Witchicoo.

She was born June 29, 1931. In 1955, she married a 19 year old Irish boy who looked like Dean Martin. They would go on to have five children-four girls and a single boy. She drove a taxi for a living when I came to know her, and would always recount the story of my birth with the memory of that was the day she had the tires changed on the #42 - but her most important job was that of a mother. She was a tough old bird who loved Colorado, and cried the day John Denver died. She like snowmen, and cardinals, and made the best biscuits and gravy around. She began guitar lessons at the age of sixty and once shook the hand of Michael Landon. As was typical of her generation, especially in the Irish culture, she drank and smoked without a thought to the long term affects. Eventually it caught up with her, and she had to be placed on dialysis. On September 9th, 2005, she died.

Her name was Elva Naomi (Foster) Connelly, and she was my grandmother.

Growing up, I never thought my grandma liked me. She ran her home like a battleship, no nonsense and all order, and small childrem rarely understand that, especially stubborn, inquisitive ones, like me. All my life she was this impressive presence, and when I was young, I thought her some dreadful queen in the same caliber of a Disney villainess. Yet, I craved her attention and affection just the same.

When I was nine, I spent the day with her and one of my aunts, and she pulled out a poem that she'd written for me the day I was born. I can recall the memory with little effort...her in her perch to the right of Grandpa's desk, her "reading" voice reciting the words she'd written with such pride, over a decade before, about "Bill and Omy's first grandchild."

As I matured, I looked back at all the little things I'd been blind too: the stocking with my name on it she got my first Christmas, the crisp dollar bill that was present every December 25th in said stocking, the birthday cards with my age matched in singles, the little candy presents on holidays with her homemade tags...the fact that she called me Kate, when everyone else referred to me as Katie. When I had my daughter, my grandmother came by our room after her dialysis appointment- even though they drained her physically and mentally- and, watching her hold my baby, bridging four generations, I realized, that, just like you receive no training manual with your first child, grandchildren don't come with instructions either. I was the learning experience, and she did a damn fine job of figuring it out. I'd always had her unfailing love and unwavering support whenever I needed it. She was tenacious, and giving; foreboding and comforting, and I only hope that one day I am half the woman she was.

~K

"The history of our grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in the laughter and tears of their children and their children's children. It is into us that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future."
Charles and Ann Morse

Post Secret of the week.

I used to do this with my MySpace....post the Post Secret that I related to the most that week. This one fits so well, it should stay for awhile, methinks.

"her confidence is tragic, but her intuition magic
and the shape of her body - unusual"
Train-Meet Virginia

Unapologetically me.

I have no patience. None. Not even a smidgen. I'm an instant gratification kinda gal, I am. "The best things come to those who wait?" Ha! Try again. This is evident in a lot of my life....apparently even how I play pool.

Met an online friend tonight for the first time, and we played pool. It would seem that my lack of skill was a concern, for he chose to chastise me, "I know you're not a patient person, but you need to at least take the time to line up your shot." Here I thought I sucked because I rarely played, and Mr. Psychic tells me it's just because I'm impatient.

I love my friends, especially my female friends. There is something special about being so close with a person that you can say "Do NOT wear that outfit out in public." or "I love you, but you can't dance." (Sorry, Heth) Friends can tell each other anything, without fear of retribution.

Friends I said. Not people you've just met.

I once went on a date with a man who interrupted me midstory to tell me I was too intelligent to curse as much as I do. (I informed him he could be my date...or my father....but not both. He chose date....I opted out.)

What the hell gives someone the right to subject me to their opinion on myself? And don't give me that "Free Speech" bullshit....I mean morally, not socially. I would never....NEVER....tell someone I'd just met that they needed to change something about themselves.

Sure, I can be a pain....but usually, I'm like...ummm...let's say....sushi. The first time you try it you think, "Hmm...not sure I'm going to try that again." Then as time grows on, it starts to grow on you....in a non-fungus way I mean. Of course, sometimes I'm like tequila....a good idea at the time, but too much can make you sick. Getting back to my point...

Look....I am who I am....and you are who you are. Honestly, if I told you that you need to shave your beard because it's not really hiding that double chin....or that your wardrobe makes you look like you're on your way to a Welcome Back Kotter reunion show.....and you DID change....I wouldn't want to be your friend anyway.

Be yourselves people. If you can't be you...what's the point in living?
~K

"Just be yourself, anyway that you want to.
Anyway that you can."
Morcheeba-Be Yourself

Once bitten, twice shy

It's funny sometimes how things can feel so wrong, that it makes you physically hurt....and your partner has no idea. There'd been some issues....some little stuff that just piled up....some bigger issues that I won't get into here, but issues enough that I couldn't bring myself to even think wedding plans. After telling Nate several times that we needed to talk, I finally got him to sit and listen....and he'd had no clue that anything was amiss.

Of course, he handled it in true male fashion....he blamed me. :/ Things got heated....we both got nasty....and at the end, neither of us could sleep. I got on the computer while he went downstairs to play a game for awhile. I chatted with my friend Roberto for a bit-sometimes it's nice to gain a male perspective. After a shot of rum, and some time, I finally felt sleepy again. I went downstairs to tell Nate I was going back to bed, and he joined me, where we had incrediably awesome sex. Funny thing...through all of this, our sex life hasn't suffered at all.

Things were still a little....uneasy this morning as he left for work, and through our various communication through the day. I had been napping when he got home from work, and he woke me up....resulting in awesome sex again. We ran some errands and he decided to take me out to my favorite Italian place on The Plaza, Brio ( http://www.brioitalian.com/) During our lovely dinner, he talked honestly and earnestly with me about how he wanted this to work. We decided to try counseling, which we had discussed before. After dinner, we went home, watched a movie with Short Stuff and went to bed....more amazing sex. :)

So, things appear to maybe be on the mend....then why am I still unsure? In the movie The Mexican the big question is "When two people love each other, when is enough, enough?" The answer, they claim, is never. Anyone who's been divorced can laugh bitterly with me. There has to be an enough. But when do you really know when it is? I put up with four years of hell the first time, but now, a month of strain makes me want to bolt. How much of this is legitimate concerns and how much is an over developed sense of survival?

In an ironic twist, on the way home the radio was playing Great White's "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" Nate asked me to explain exactly what that meant. I had no issue there, trust me.

So....what to do? At this point I think I'm just going to go curl up with the man I love, and let fate decide where it wants us...with a little help of course.

~K

"You told me I was the only one
But look at you now, it's dark, and you're gone
My, my, my, I'm once bitten, twice shy baby. "
Great White-Once Bitten, Twice Shy