i'm sick of being sick.

kate03 vs. kate06

When someone I haven't known since 2003 calls and asks me on a date, am I supposed to be 2003 me or 2006 me?

Thanks alot, Neil Papworth

The first commercial SMS message was sent over the Vodafone GSM network in the United Kingdom on 3 December 1992, from Neil Papworth of Sema Group (using a personal computer) to Richard Jarvis of Vodafone (using an Orbitel 901 handset). The text of the message was "Merry Christmas". The first SMS typed on a GSM phone is claimed to have been sent by Riku Pihkonen, an engineer student at Nokia, in 1993.

And the world of dating was officially changed. That's right, I'm pegging the invention of text messaging as the climax of the decline of male assertiveness. Why call when you can text? Why stop by when you can comment on myspace? Why sit by her in class when you can poke her on facebook? Why propose on the beach when you can post a notice on LDS linkups? I'm just saying...it's way too easy to not do it right these days. And it all started with the text.

note to self (part two):

Making and writing Christmas cards is not the same as putting cards in an envelope and sending them in the mail so that they make it to the recipients. Just like buying and wrapping Christmas gifts is not the same as mailing/delivering them. And carrying these things around with you all day for a few weeks isn't the same as taking them to the post office, either.

and please bless the man that anonymously paid for my gasoline tonight.

Dear 157 W. Pierpont: I will miss you. Every day. Love, Kate.

Merry Christmas to Me.

note to self:

making a list is not the same as accomplishing the things on that list.
I just keep forgetting that.

but THEy’re just FRIENDLY little BEASTS.

Why did I ignore this lovely carol for so so long? I’d like to thank Mrs. Peterson’s 4th grade class in Ephraim Elementary for bringing this carol back to life for me in 2003. You sang so well at that assembly. Even if Jennifer couldn’t stay on key and Neil would not stand up. Ah, I miss them. (Oh. and thank you Sufjan for the version I am most recently in love with.)

X Marks the Spot…Not.

X should not replace Christ.
X should not replace -anks.
X should not replace -ects.
X should not replace -ex.

in my dreams

i'm riding this.

Domesticating Complikate gives Katriarch a stomachache.

break my bones

Sometimes I get ill just thinking of mean things I've said or done or thought. Why on Earth would I ever be mean? Life is really hard and sad and tough just naturally without any additional meanies going around being mean. I've written lots of 'i'm sorry' letters lately but they'll likely never be sent. Because the recipients probably don't even remember or care and are mostly married or on their way to marriage or far away from me. Mostly I think I am mean with my apathy and with my words. Oh heavens. I hate meanness. I really cannot think of a single reason that would ever justify it.

I'm growing!

Amaryllis

day 1




day 15









day 21

I've been wracking my brain all week

For a reason to not dread going back to Utah tomorrow evening. And all I can come up with is the hard water. You heard me, the hard water. You know, so I can tell when the soap/shampoo is off my hands/hair (as opposed to the very soft water here in Henderson that has led me to my trial-by-error-count-my-rinses-and-trust-it system). That's really all I've got. Well, that and all my pending Christmas projects under my bed that I'll be cranking out this week. Yep, projects and hard water, that's what's keeping me going these days.

I'm glad I'm not on a mission right now.

There's nothing I'd rather 'lose' a friend to than a happy marriage.

i'm serious. It makes me really happy.

Then again...

It's hard to complain too much about anything that happened THE NIGHT I WON A BRAND NEW MACBOOK. Thanks Struck.

members only. psh.

So what if we're an hour and a half late...Where's the valet? The doorman? The coat-taker? The water-pourer? The bathroom towel hander-outer? The fresh salad and warm bread? The non-bloody filet mignon? The non-cold creme brulee minus the gigantic berries? The non-glaring waiter making us leave? I'm just saying. They can save their breath and bribery, I'll never join.

my new motto:

Always choose uncomfort.
So far, I think this applies to anything. Except clothing, obviously. I mean, choose a style thats not comfortable for you, but never have uncomfortable clothing on. You know what I mean. I don't even know what my old motto was.

winter

Things I don't like about winter:
-traffic
-sore elbows (from wearing long sleeved sweaters and then resting my arms on a desk all day)
-freezing arms (from wearing short sleeves to avoid sore elbows)
-dry skin
-white skin
-dirty dirty car
-constantly cold feet/hands
-nearly constant headlight use
-scraping ice from my car every morning (actually I kind of like the scraping, I just hate me getting covered in snow in the process. that settles into my clothes and makes me soaking wet by American Fork. I hate that.)
-no leaves on the trees

Things I like about winter:
-holidays
-the music
-the smells
-the decorating
-appreciating warmth
-seeing more of my family
-sliding on icy sidewalks
-jackets
-parties
-birthdays
-snow (especially: the flurries that look like all the flakes are just flying around for fun and have no intention of ever hitting the ground; eating it; walking through it in boots; how light it makes it seem at night; the smell of it)
-baking
-katriarch season
-watching my amaryllis grow
-gift making and giving

Don't ask

My number one pet peeve: being asked questions.
The other morning someone was trying to nail down my schedule for the day by asking questions. Not an unreasonable request, by any measure. A very normal request, in fact. Anyway, I responded with "asking me questions is like the number one annoyance in my life right now". (I know, I say 'like' too much. I almost left it out. But I wanted the quote to be true to life.) I didn't realize the truth of that sentence at the time but have since been considering my life's annoyances and I stick by that statement. Of course not every question I'm ever asked jumps to the top of my list of most peeved moments (partly because such a list doesn't exist). But, most of those moments have been when I'm being asked questions. It's not even the big, typical questions (graduating? dating? etc.) or anything. I really wish it didn't bother me so much. Because people asking me questions is going to keep happening for the rest of my life. Why can't I have some really really obscure pet peeve that never really happens but I kind of made it up in case I ever needed one? I don't even know exactly what it is that bothers me so much. Maybe I think they should be able to figure it out for themselves? Maybe I think they should know that I couldn't possibly know the answer? Maybe they've asked me before and should remember? Maybe I'm just really impatient and self-centered? I could never be a teacher. I can't believe I used to want to be a teacher.

Sometimes Isosceles. Usually Scalene. Rarely Equilateral. Always Polygonal.

Sometimes I ask my self

And sometimes the response is downright shocking.

There isn't a Turkey in the world

with enough feathers to represent the things I'm thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving.

It's better than okay.

It's okay to just be taught something as a child and grow up in a certain lifestyle and believe something your parents tell you and then just continue believing those things and living in those ways and teaching your children those things, forever. It doesn't make you naive and unintelligent and foolish. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

Today's My Day

I'm 22.
My best gift to myself: excusing myself from all decision making for 24 hours.
Best gift from the universe: time on my side.

Day Seven

My Sunday.
Church Candy.
Uncle Sam.
Birthday Mixer.
Grey's Anatomy.
Can't Sleep.

Day Six

Go Cougs.

Day Five

Friday.
The last of XanGo for me.
I planted my annual amaryllis.
Asobi Seksu is cancelled. I bought my ticket weeks ago.
Meet new people, excuse myself from activity.
Meet more new people, excuse myself again from activity.
Some things have time limits, you know? windows of opportunity close as often as they open.
I'm probably just tired.

Day Four

-xango is kind of my life but it is really some people's lives.
-wait until dark is sold out. duh.
-i don't hate fake fur on boots and/or hoods.
-chief having an anxiety attack is the last thing we need right now.

Day Three

full. tiring. orange. loud. spending someone else's money. theater going. wheels are turning. hoodie wearing. envy. renewed hope. foolish riddle. sweets everywhere. voicemail. warm house. first massage ever. paper boats. early to bed, kind of. 2 packages on their way! john likes his shirts. big party. hostess. contently dosing through stranger than fiction. play tomorrow. more orange tomorrow. tomorrow. tomorrow. tomorrow.

Day Two

-9:15am- back on campus. hate being in heels and looking like one of those people that dress up for school. apply for college graduation
-12:00pm- participate in struck photoshoot. when will people learn that i just shouldn't be involved in these things?
-1:30pm- free lunch at Red Rock, on Skylar, who might have a friend that would love me. we'll exchange photos.
-2:30pm- receive word that the cable at The Basket has been re-installed
-3:30pm- receive word that The Basket has working heat for the first time this year
-3:45pm- matt/xango reward printsters and kate with the cutest reward ever. new ipod shuffle.
-4:30pm- bean calls to ask a question for one of mom's lists. i hear mom cracking a joke in the background. two very good signs.
-5:30pm- after some experimentation, i discover exactly how much pressure is needed on the brake pedal to turn the brake lights of my car on.
-7:00pm- i cringe through a newly-available episode of Gilmore Girls
-7:30pm- i become bored with rory and lorelai and fall asleep, missing the climax of the show and the performance of some good friends
-8:30pm- i run warily to Muse but am too late. hear the end of one song and spot Hudd, his haircut and his cardigan
-10:00pm- finally people are home. we browse the latest delia's catalog in unison, marking items with each person's designated shape. bowl of Kix.
-2:44am- sleep

Day One

-woke up warm. thank you heatdish.
-free crown burgers for lunch. thank you Struck.
-hung out with the wilson brothers. thank you Matt.
-hung out with The Who. thank you XanGo.
-gave a stranger directions to 2 downtown restaurants. thank you over observant mind.
-bought new jeans. thank you The Loft.
-didn't change the radio station when Carol of the Bells came on. thank you Manheim Steamroller.
-southwest egg rolls for dinner, cookie dough ice cream for dessert. thank you Aaron Garrity.
-was called beautiful for the 3rd? time in my life. thank you man at the post office.

this is my week

Yeah, the next 7 days, I own them.

It kind of seems like

We should think and talk half as much and act twice as much. Kind of.

did you guys touch some more?

What's with all the same gender back scratching, head rubbing, leg touching, shoulder patting? These things are inappropriate. Perhaps the most so in sacrament meeting.

It feels good

-to sleep in
-to finally move in, for real move in, no more piles move in
-to hear "Breath of Heaven" for the first time this season
-to have all clean dishes
-to send things to people i love
-to make a grocery list
-to talk to carrie
-to make spirals at 2:30am
-to plan surprises
-to shave my legs so good
-to have a Presto HEATDISH right next to my feet
-to be asked about
-to have a completely updated (and really cute) address book
-to cross things off my month-old 'to do' list
-to keep a secret
-to see people being happy
-to eat a real breakfast
-to think about Thanksgiving
-to be almost 22
-to be good

this is my month

I can't stop

I can't stop watching. I can't stop crying. I can't stop pining. I can't stop thinking. I can't stop hearing Tegan & Sara in the background. I can't stop believing. I can't stop puzzling. I can't stop being surprised. I can't stop talking to the TV. I can't stop wanting more. I just can't stop.

don't be surprised if you see me scooting.

i'm just saying, i'm a scooter now.

why o why and how o how

Is the guy working at my parking garage:
so cute? rarely working when I come in/out lately? able to pull off the buzz cut so well? happy doing his job? still nameless?

It's My Month

I know it's not kosher to be so obviously self indulgent but it's November. I love November. For lots of reasons. Like, because I was born on it's twentieth day and because it's so holiday and it has changing weather and i am waking up to sunshine and the pile of leaves on my car and wearing jackets and just lots of things that I like. This is what some photo stockers think about November and for some reason, I couldn't agree more. They totally pegged November. I should know, it's mine.

aware people and unaware people don't mix

It must not be as inate as I think it is to asess a situation and act appropriately. I mean, upon entering a situation, your brain automatically goes to work figuring out who people are and what their relation to eachother is and what type of atmosphere you are in and what type of humor or topics of conversation or gestures or loudness or general behavior would be appropriate for the given circumstances. Right? So your brain puts things in your possible topics bank and tells your body to be still and your voice to hush and your sarcasm to halt, if that's what the situation needs. Our brains know how to do this. They are great at it. Why then does it sometimes fail completely to happen? Do some brains not have this capacity? Or it's grown too rusty? Or people have overridden it with their sheer will to corrupt? It is sometimes very hard for people with a healthy-hyper sense of awareness happening naturally all the time to understand, spend time with the UnaWares of the world.
This was all brought to mind from some experiences last night and then it made me remember UnaWare. We once knew a girl named Anna (on-a) Ware. Matt started calling her UnaWare. A more fitting, more natural evolution of a namesake has never occurred. Even Kakie pales in comparison. There are more UnaWares in the world than I ever knew.

all i do is upload stuff

Signs of the Times.

Yesterday, around 3? in the afternoon, all the lights in 157 W. Pierpont flickered. The thing about this flicker though, was that it was audible. A clicky flicker. A single click actually. And the other thing about this flicker is that it was heard/seen/felt by people across the...state? at the same moment. I have confirmed accounts of this flicker in Provo, Lehi, Salt Lake, Centerville, Ogden and Sandy. This flicker was not felt as far as Boise or Maryland. This flicker was so adamant about being felt that it even shut off cell phones that were in use at the moment it wanted to flick, to have our undivided attention. This, combined with the eerie scratching noises coming from the "construction" next to our studio, the ghastly back touching, stories of our resident "friendly ghost", some pretty creepy ruckus (giant marbles? table saws?) going on below our home and the number of mirrors I can see myself in from this position on the couch (11) are enough to do me in. Which is just what the undead would wish from their holiday. So bravo, you've done it. It's Hallowe'en.

"But he's no Robert"

I guess, in the end (the end being marriage or some time after marriage), it'd be pretty good if I could look back on all past relationships with fondness for lessons learned, memories made and friendships forged. But ultimately, no matter how great past beaus were, I'd simply be able to say, "He is a great person. But, he's no _______". (name of spouse) I think that'd be a pretty good way for things to end.

Did anyone else see this?

And, of course, by 'this' I actually mean 'this':















It appears I shall forever remain a fool for players of the All-American sport.

my life would be different if this weren't my favorite

"With Halloween approaching, what better time to learn a few kernels of truth about a favorite fall treat? Candy corn has been made with the same recipe — containing sugar, corn syrup, and marshmallow — by the Jelly Belly Candy Company since around 1900. One serving (about 30 pieces) has 140 calories, the equivalent of three miniature Hershey bars. The National Confectioners Association reports that more than 35 million pounds were manufactured in 2005, amounting to almost 9 billion kernels." -Real Simple Magazine

Magic things happen when I keep candy corn in my pockets.

Things I've Learned About Hospitals and Me:

-They make me cold.
-They always smell like that.
-Catholic themed hospitals don't bother me.
-The elevators are shaped just right for gernies. (I hate that)
-There is never anything worth buying in the gift shop.
-I can rarely pass an open room door and not look in. Even though I hate looking in.
-I never want to be a nurse.
-I kind of want to be a nurse.
-I've yet to be disappointed by a grilled cheese sandwich purchased at a hospital.
-They are not all the same. (some have remote controls and pull-out beds)
-They have the fuzziest fuzzy socks.
-Patients/Personnel/Patrons have no problem welcoming you to the hospital with a healthy dose of secondhand smoke right outside the front doors.
-They'll bring you free drinks if you ask.
-I hope my husband is not a doctor.
-I hope my husband is a doctor.
-I will never not be tempted to open the door of the "infection control" room.

Ah. Katriarch. Yes, please come in.

I've been expecting this, hoping for this. Katriarch's grand return. Of course she never disappears entirely. She just becomes the shortest leg of my scalene self. (while Complikate and Sophistikate take center stage) Seems this time at home has been just what I needed to resurge my domesticity. Turns out I still remember.

I'm just sitting here waiting for people to finish stuff so I can email files to my brother.

Caring is Creepy

I've been wondering lately about a lot of things. Nothing whole-heartedly really because that's been beyond my capacity. But part-heartedly I've been doing a lot of wondering. One thing i've been wondering about is the things people care about. Is there some type of unwritten rating system concerning caring? Some ladder of cares that I should know that states clearly literature's place in relation to fashion in relation to animal rights in relation to dish towels. i mean, who decided that having an interest and investing time in learning a language holds more weight than being a great party hostess? Or does anyone think that? Or only I think that? I suppose there are some obvious topics of care that would transcend most others (family, religion) But beyond that, I'm not sure. Is it how useful it will be to your life? How much you'll use it when you die? Is it all in the eye of the beholder? Is it obvious?

I'm glad people care about things I do not. It has to be so. I like it so. Why, then, do I feel like I should be sheepish or ashamed to announce that my major is, in fact, not comparative literature or history or exercise science but home and family living? I like my major. Or that I have no idea who painted the first painting that was hung in the Guggenheim or whose song is #1 on the top 40 right now or who first invented the elevator? I don't know hardly anything. I don't know how anyone could ever attain enough knowledge to start feeling like they did. But I still care. I would love to know. Please, tell me. I think i care about everything. But how do you show you care? By spending time on it? Then I guess I care about very little. There is certainly something to be said about time. How time is spent is, i suppose, is our most accurate meter of what someone cares about? I mean, I care about homeless people but when one finds out where I work and awaits my 5pm exit, I get nervous. I don't volunteer at any shelters. I don't bring an extra PB&J to give to Drew or Sweet Brother on the street. But I care. Can caring exist only in thought and feeling but without action? I think so. Ah. so does Webster. "To feel concern" is to care. So i guess I do care about everything.

Sometimes I witness things through the news or conversations or with my own eyes. Horrible things, stories of terrible things, about people witnessing the death of their loved ones or a family dog lying only almost-dead in the street or whole African tribes being wiped out by disease and I am sad and I care and I wish they all knew that I cared. But then I do nothing. What would I do? Perhaps just taking extra careful care of my own cares? Maybe if everyone just appreciates and sustains others in all that they care for then all the cares in the world will be covered and it's not so horrible if some of my cares are left actionless?

I'm not as stoic as I think I am.

It's Only Time

If I am ever invited to play that one fun ipod roadtrip game where you pick a topic or genre and everyone chooses a song to fit that topic or genre and the topic or genre is "songs that break your heart, make you cry and fill you with joy all at the same time" then I would choose this song by the Magnetic Fields. I love it. I hate it. I love it. I love it. I never tire of it. Find it somewhere and listen to it. I have it, get it from me. Or search the internet. I haven't the time or the know-how or the energy to do it for you right now. But you will not be sorry. Once, I was mid-conversation with my younger sister and we both had to just stop, hold our hearts in our hands and let our eyes well up when we heard the words Stephin was singing to us. It's that kind of song. Sarah McLachlan's 'I Love You' kind of song. Here are the lyrics: (But you have to hear it to understand)

It's Only Time

Why would I stop loving you
a hundred years from now?
It's only time.
It's only time.

What could stop this beating heart
once it's made a vow?
It's only time.
It's only time.

If rain won't change your mind,
let it fall.
The rain won't change my heart
at all.

Lock this chain
around my hand,
throw away the key.
It's only time.
It's only time.

Years falling
like grains of sand
mean nothing to me.
It's only time.
It's only time.

If snow won't change your mind
let it fall.
The snow won't change my heart,
not at all.

(I'll walk your lands)
I'll walk your lands
(And swim your sea)
And swim your sea

Marry me.
Marry me.

(Then in your hands)
Then in your hands
(I will be free)
I will be free

Marry me.
Marry me.

Why would I stop loving you
a hundred years from now?

Is it just me, or does this 'game' get more real every time I play?

I had my doubts

But then i figured that 8 album titles just couldn't be wrong.
They were right. This feels great.

Do I know you?

Why do people insist on pretending like they don't remember? If you remember, just remember. It's so much easier. It's normal to remember. Really. It's great to remember. And because of recent conversations I've had with other normal people, I refuse to continue assuming I am just a crazy steel trap minded person for always remembering. Remembering is so much better than meeting seven times, each time giving a recap of the previous introductory experiences. Not remembering, or pretending to not remember is just so not as good as remembering.

Why do the soles of my new shoes insist on smelling like garlic? And don't say karma.

[picture of oh-so-cute, semi-pointed, sailor-striped flats (of course)]

Turns out

- Luke does want to marry Lorelai
- I'm not good at handling things
- I still can't eat a whole snack pack by myself
- I'm okay with being in a really 'normal' ward
- I am a compulsive online shopper
- Boys half-heartedly raising a sustaining hand in church is enough to turn me off
- I'm the same amount woman today as I was yesterday
- Compliments from most likely drunk, most likely homeless men on the street are some of my most cherished
- I can overdose on penne rosa from Noodles & Co.
- People never look at the second story of the Flower Basket, regardless of what or who is in the windowsill
- Clint swimming in a construction site puddle kills me
- It is really truly Fall (made irrefutably evident by the lack of hot dog street vendors in downtown slc)
- I miss having long boring hair
- I can happily eat pizza for 5 consecutive meals (exluding breakfasts)
- I need to sleep more often
- I like sitting in balconies

Travel without legal guardians is exciting.**

"Enthusiasm is contagious. Start an epidemic." -Bumper Sticker

I see this every day. On the marquee at Thanksgiving Point. And every day I wonder the same thing. Since when is Bumper Sticker a proper noun? A reliable source for quoting?

It would be nice to have a boyfriend around to do things like pick me up from the airport.

No offense, Brother. It's just so cute when boyfriends pick girlfriends up from the airport.

karmic inspiration

Sometimes reading other people's blogs makes me want to never write again. This happens for a few reasons, I think. Maybe because then I am responsible for that knowledge and the more knowledge I have the harder it is to be appropriately respectful and original in my own posting. I start getting this paranoia that anything I write is only a regurgitated form of someone else's post and that they did it better anyway. Suppose we've the same audience, and then I'm no better than Sara. I don't want to be Sara.

It shouldn't be this dark at 5:09pm.

i can't stop listening to

this song. Thanks Cat.

my specialty is 'turning the tables'.**

i miss you.

I can't wait for real life. You know, 'one day'. I can't wait for that.

i've never been as __________ as i am this weekend.

go ahead. fill in the blank. anything works.

my kids are never going to ride four wheelers.

i can't sleep now.

find me a find, catch me a catch.

Just because person A and person B are both loved by person C does not mean that person A and person B are a match made in Heaven. Regardless of any contradictions this may pose to basic mathematical beliefs. (such as those displayed below)

right ON. i meant right ON. i swear. just leave my sister alone.

Dear Target Gods,
I am writing this post in hopes of making amends for my previous one. My previous post was written in haste and is a severe mis-judgement of Target's superiority. In fact, I'd been meaning to correct myself on this very issue. Turns out, after prolonged exposure to your cereal bars, I can't get enough. To think that anything hailing from your magnificent corporation would not provoke such feelings is a gross fallacy. I should have known. I should have waited. I should have eaten more cereal bars. I should have trusted. I suppose you know what sparked this retraction, as it was an event sent from your own hands. My sister's dream. To refresh your memory, from the mouth of the victim:

I had a dream last night that I think came from the angry Target Gods. I was coming out of Target after buying a valentine card for Adam. A huge gang of scary punk rockers started following me. Two girls came up and tried to steal my purse but I talked them out of it. Then I ran to my car and they all started climbing on my car, I had to drive crazy to throw them off the car. I might have hit a couple of them too. I haven't been to Target for more than a month. I feel a little guilty.

Now, I've never dealt with you in quite this way before but I'm assuming, from this dream stunt, that you operate a bit like karma. And you're making your way back to me. Through those I love. I get it. I get this. I get you. And I'll get mine. But please, I beg you, forgive my foolishness. And leave the unconscious of my loved ones to their rightful fate of sunflowers, Forever 21 and reunions in Tahoe and leave the punk rockers and vehicular manslaughter out of this. I love you, Target. But I don't have to like you right now.


hello. i totally paused.

Dangerous things I've done while driving my manual transmission car (in no particular order of dangerosity and with no exaggeration):

-eat bowls of cereal, oatmeal, ice cream
-tweeze eyebrow hairs
-text message
-read a book
-eat frozen yogurt (in a cup, with a spoon)
-talking on the phone to my sisters
-check an email on my laptop (for directions)
-write shopping lists, birthday cards, etc.
-taking and sending pictures with my phone

I also drive in the carpool lane. I don't know how this happened. Commuting 90 miles a day for a year, maybe? I start thinking I own the roads.

dancing with the stars

"Last season, Master P's heart just wasn't in it."

cousins make the world go round.

i stole this from megan

Kate needs a shave.
Kate needs to be able to reload a file automatically.
Kate needs to sell her locket to get money for the shell game.
Kate needs to meet the mayor of Israeli.
Kate needs a hand.
Kate needs to trust Angel.
Kate needs a cocktail.
Kate needs to find a way to deal with stress that doesn't involve nicotine or booze.
Kate needs to be genuine.
Kate needs your help.
Kate needs more than a glad bag of coke for an evening.
Kate needs to be exposed for everything evil she has done.
Kate needs to be brought to her knees.

It's easy, guys. Just search "(your name) needs" in google. or make up sentences. or use any verb you want. (kate wishes she could control time, kate wishes these eggs were fertilized, kate loves a mystery TV show, etc)

i'm 21 for crying out loud

is it so wrong for me to not want to go on a date ever again with someone i don't know/have nothing in common with/wears necklaces, kswiss, etc/i will never love/is shorter than me/doesn't even know me? i mean, life's kind of at that point where i get to choose, right? i mean, i don't have to marry someone i don't even like, do i? i mean, it's okay to say 'no'? i mean, it's okay if 'the date' gets dropped from my legendary nickname and i'm just 'kate'? no skin off my nose? right?

sister act

similarly colored hair and a shared taste for good fashion is not enough to make two people related.

right off

don't you dare get me wrong, target gets A LOT of things right. i mean, no one can beat their clearance racks or their knock-off shoe selection or their modern yet affordable housewares. but, when it comes to cereal bars, they less than hit a bull's eye. I prefer even Sunbelt to Market Pantry on this one. The inside is some fruityish substance, the consistency of which is undefinable. and the outside, although edible, is crumbly and just not enough to make up for it's amoeba like filling. sorry, target. i still love you. and your commercials.

oh. hey reality.

welcome back.

which ward are we in?

i just want to do the right thing here.

good news

i love my new house. nothing beats life in the basket. i got a raise today. which means i can pay tuition after all. 'early' day actually meant early day today. i've been using the phrase 'rockin' robin' in all kinds of sweet contexts. my sister-in-law is pregnant. my pockets are full of candy corn taffy. i just finished eating a BBQ'd burger and already have two more BBQs on the horizon. no work on monday. new ward on sunday. equals all my church clothes are brand new again because no one knows the difference. our kitchen window is huge and cheerful. it's 75 degrees outside. i currently have 3 nephews being potty trained. hunter anderson is my cousin. i'm headed to Target in T minus twenty.

wanna chicken burger?**

this is not mine, but a close relative of mine's and i thought it rather apropo for today's presidential theme.

I had a dream where I was in a Chinese graveyard and a weird Chinese man was mumbling incantations that brought dwarf suits of armor to life ala Bedknobs and Broomsticks. These animated dwarf suits of armor grabbed me and carried me into a high tower where they shoved me into a cannon and fired me. I landed in the courtyard of Buckingham Palace and ran inside. I came to a large banquet hall/cafeteria and in adjoining kitchen I ran into George Bush who had just pulled a pan of chicken burgers out of the oven. He turned to me and said, motioning to the chicken burgers, "Wanna chicken burger?"

as a warning to anyone thinking of asking me to be a model for their class project. please, learn from courtney's mistake.