Mid-Summer Goals

I have 3 posts drafted at the moment, and all of them, in one way or another, emphasize how busy I am feeling. It's overwhelming, actually. So, now that midterms are behind me (see ya, suckers!), I feel it is time to re-prioritize, and I have a few goals for the next 6 weeks that I'd like to focus on.

• Regular exercise. I'm not sure how to define this or what it means, but right now I'm playing tennis maybe once or twice a week, and that's just not good enough. A friend suggested making a goal for # of minutes per week, which I really like. Assuming I get 120 minutes of tennis in every week, I'd like to get 180 minutes of general exercise, which roughly translates to two additional days of running or tennis or whatever I feel like. I'm tired of making excuses for not being able to exercise appropriately!
• Avoid over-planning. This is the thing I am the worst about, and the hardest to control. I just want to do all the things! I think I am also chronically afraid that if I don't plan in advance, no one else will be available to do whatever it is I want to do by the time it is actually appropriate to make plans.  

So that's it. I may or may not have intentionally put off writing this post until I could share the Fall 2014 Calendar with my best b-school pals and I may or may not have debated including calendar invite attachments with said email. For the record, I didn't do it, but only because I was lazy and not because I didn't want to. Micromanagement and over-planning at it's finest!

This summer is practically over according to my calendar. I've planned until I can't plan anymore. Lake weekends, football games, social events, work trips, concerts... you name it, I've planned it and there is not one single minute left to spare. But this is it. No more. I have to save room for tennis and friends and spontaneity and girls nights and boys nights and work and rest and family. Those are all important, too, and sometimes the best times in life are completely unplanned and unexpected. 

Today, she would have been 89

My dad called me on the morning of October 23 to tell me the news I have been hoping I wouldn't hear for a much longer time. My grandmother had passed away in the middle of the night. The next 24 hours were a blur of work, tears, travel, and family. I feel so fortunate that all 4 of us were able to jump on planes almost immediately. It really solidified how many wonderful people I have in my life that were willing to step up, take over, and let me completely disconnect for a few days to spend time with my sweet, sweet family.

We flew the next day, and that Thursday night, we tried to forget why we were all together. The 5 oldest grandchildren, her 2 daughters and their husbands had a smashing time together. Laughing, telling stories, and just enjoying each other's company. At one point I teared up, turned to my oldest cousin and said "she'd be so mad, but she's so happy." "Not until tomorrow Kathryn. Tonight is for celebrating. But you're right." And then we got rip-roaring drunk and neglected to eat dinner, but it was so, so, SO worth it. Family time is the best, even under the worst circumstances. 

 

The next few days were hard. I sat in a corner for the first 45 minutes of her wake. My stubborn cuss of a grandmother didn't give any of us the chance to say goodbye. But in that time, I realized maybe that's okay. I've realized that she's actually always there. She's laughing as I send ridiculous text messages to cute boys. She was watching and shaking her head while my cousins and I drank ourselves quite stupid. She's holding grandpa's hand and walking on the beach, picking up shells and having picnics. She's writing love letters and thank you cards and cooking in her kitchen high in the sky. I am sure she is passing along a disapproving stare, thinking about how proud she is of her 9 successful, driven, determined, dedicated grandchildren, and missing her pup.

 

I didn't realize I would miss her this much, miss her voice and the way she cut off all of our conversations and how she'd spend hours doing arts and crafts with her granddaughters and her lemon cookies and climbing the sand dunes and every other memory. But what makes me tear up the most, what has brought me to tears late at night under my covers is how happy I think she is. Her heart hurt so terribly before she died, and I just know that she's happy again. Her suffering ended, and I really and truly think that when she walked through the pearly gates of wherever she went, my grandpa and my uncle were there to greet her, and I can just imagine that instead of saying hello, she spit out some sassy comment and hasn't stopped.

I miss you, Gram. Keep watch over all of us, and let me know you're there every now and then. See you when I see you. 

I challenged my family to a Christmas Day 5k

The rules are there are no rules. Everybody has to participate, everybody has to finish, but there are no winners and no losers. Some will walk, some will run, some will train and some will not. I am going to have sweet prizes for everyone who finishes.

 

I needed a little oomph going into this holiday season, and a reason to get back on the wagon, if you will. I can eat and drink as much as I want when I'm doing cardio exercise regularly, which might explain the extra cushion I've inherited in the last 5 months, as I'm pretty sure the last time I found myself in a gym was about that long ago. #brokenfoot #notagoodexcuse

 

So, that's that. Our 5k is just for our little family, although if any of you find yourselves near Lake Hartwell on Christmas Day, you should by all means join us. We're a pretty fun bunch!

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving

 

 

This place is completely magical to me, and this year, just like every year, we have so many reasons to be thankful. True friends, precious family, time together, new opportunities, exciting adventures, and so much more. I tend to obsess over how fortunate I am to be living this life, and Thanksgiving is just another opportunity for me to be so pleased, so thankful, for everything I have. From our house to yours, Happy Thanksgiving. xo.

Summer Weekends

This past weekend was the kind of weekend I dream about. It was as close to perfect as a weekend involving a hangover could get.

 

On Friday I spent the afternoon working outside on our patio. I put a sign up on my door pointing folks to where they could find me and parked it. It was breezy, shady, and the perfect temperature.

Late Friday afternoon, I spent the happiest hours at the bar in a nearby restaurant drinking wine and flirting with the cute bartender before a delicious dinner with some of my favorite friends/colleagues/posse.

Lots of wine on the table. Lots of empty wine glasses on the table. Home before 11pm and somehow still managed a full-fledged hangover Saturday.

 

I powered through, won my mixed doubles tennis match in 2 sets, and headed up to the lake to see my family for Father's Day. I think the last time we spent a Father's Day on the lake was when I was in high school. To say my dad was excited might be an understatement.

Sunday I came home early (but not before daddy opened his present - a new business school tshirt!) to play another tennis match. Kicked butt on the court for the second time this weekend and raced home to meet my friend for lunch. We went back to the restaurant where the cute bartender works and enjoyed a delightful afternoon on a patio in Midtown. I also learned plenty about him. There may not be relationship potential but he's a pretty fun Mr. Right Now (if Mr. Right Now means I make every effort to walk by the restaurant as many times a day as possible without being weird and hoping he sees me).

 

We got manicures and pedicures, laughed until our sides hurt, and then I came home and ate vegetables for dinner before settling into bed, texting ET about how great my weekend was, and crashing until I opened my eyes on Monday morning. Perfect, perfect, perfect in every single way.

Death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away

 

I got news on Friday that a dear friend passed away.

 

The first thing I immediately felt was regret. Regret for not having spent more time with his family. Regret for not knowing that he was dying of prostate cancer. Then I felt sad. Sad for his wife, who was akin to a cool aunt to me in high school. But never sad for me. The truth is, my life won't be affected drastically. In fact, my life will hardly be affected at all.

 

I've unfortunately learned that we all deal with death differently. When my uncle passed away in December, I internalized it all. I empathized with my mom, with my aunts and uncles who lost their brother, with my grandmother who lost her son. I cried for their loss while we were at the funeral, at the cemetary, and even when we were alone at his house. Then we started the trip home, and that's when I started my own grieving. I pulled everyone I loved as close to me as I could (not physically, of course) and tried to keep them there, protected in my little cocoon. That only works for so long before your friends start to think you've gone a little loony... but that's how I dealt with it.

 

So when I found out about my friend Charlie, I was prepared for how I was going to react. Attend funeral, cry, drive home, overattachment to besties, alligator tears. I had this down. Then I surprised myself, and instead of doing my grieving after everyone else was done, I grieved in advance. I was returning some phone calls from before my London trip and catching up with old friends, and suddenly it hit me. I found myself en route to Charlotte and pulling over on the side of the road until the uncontrollable sobs passed. Until the overwhelming sadness for his wife and son and daughter subsided. While my fear of losing my own parents consumed me.  

 

Death doesn't have to be a reminder of what you have or don't have, or push us to hug our loved ones just a little bit tighter. It can also be a feeling of thankfulness and peace. One of the kindest, most patient, loving, honest men I've ever known is no longer suffering. His wife, who I love dearly, can live in peace, knowing her husband made it to his final resting place. He's most assuredly in heaven, the place he couldn't wait to be. I'm so thankful to have known him, to have shared some of the greatest moments in my short life with him, and to have been able to honor him at his funeral.

 

I didn't mean for this to turn into a diatribe honoring Charlie. What I intended to write about was funerals and how we all respond to tragedy and loss differently. So, I summed that up in one sentence and will now leave you with one piece of advice that I learned (albeit the hard way for him) from Charlie at the tender age of 15: Don't forget about the beer you put in the freezer to make it extra icy cold. It will explode, and that's not fun for anyone.

 

image

 

Daddys Girl

I wrote a post about my mom so it's only fitting that I dedicate a little corner of the internet to my dad!

If there were ever a child to belong to my father, it is me. I look like my dad, I act like my dad, I talk like my dad, I am built like my dad...in short, I am basically the female version of my obstinate, opinionated, pain in the ass father.

My dad also happens to be the first person I call for business advice, the first person to tell me how proud he is of me, the first person to help me before I ask for it, and the first one to give me his undying love and support.

My dad has pushed me further than I ever thought I could go. And trust me, I have pushed back. I have fought with my dad countless more times than I have agreed with him. I have gone weeks without speaking to him. (I don't think he was disappointed). When I make a mistake, my dad is the first person to point it out. It's maddening sometimes.

My dad is a fighter - not only did he kick cancer to the curb once, but he did it twice. He's battled for 10+ years and never once let it get him down or let it stop him. He may work himself into an early grave, but never will I say that my father is a quitter.

My dad may not be the handiest guy on the planet, and he may not be able to run a marathon, and he definitely can't spell any words with more than 4 letters without asking for help, but he is the reason I am who I am. Everything I do is so that I don't disappoint my dad, so that I can make him proud, and he never forgets to tell me that I have done exactly that.

From 2007 - June

And in case you didn't know, my dad has a fantastic sense of style...

My dad has shown me in so many ways what it means to love someone without words. He is my biggest fan, my biggest critic, and my best friend.

I love you Daddy, and happy late father's day.

My Mom

This morning I decided that I am going to text my mom every day and tell her what I am thankful for. I figured this would come as no surprise to her, because I've also called her out of the blue with instructions for what to do should she find out I've been in a horrific car accident and also what to do if anything else happens to me where I can't communicate for myself. I need to revamp those plans, because my go-to people now live further away than my parents. CRAP.

Anyway, I didn't tell her I was going to tell her what I was thankful for every day, all I did was send her a text that said:

Today I am thankful for new friends. What you thankful for?

My mom texted me back a few hours later and said:

I am thankful for a good doctor report for your uncle.

This made me happy for so many reasons.

1. The fact that I randomly texted my mom and told her what I was thankful for and she responded back without batting an eyelash.
2. The fact that my uncle received a good doctor report. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 stomach cancer 18 months ago and has been kicking cancer's ass ever since.
3. That my mom is so selfless that she is not thankful for something for herself, but rather something for someone else (and what that means for his family/my 14 and 17 year old cousins).

There are so many things I am thankful for, new friends included, but you know what I realized? I am so thankful for my giving, loving, caring mom.

Mothers Day: Better Late Than Never

I'm bummed I can't be with my momma today.

It's amazing to me how things have changed over the last 25 years with regards to my mom.

I was never a mama's girl, per se. In my house, mom was the punisher, the enforcer, the supporter, the everything.

I remember fighting with my mom as a teenager a lot more than telling her how much I appreciated her being at every single volleyball game, decorating the street on the way to school for my 16th birthday, letting my friends and I take over her bathroom to get ready for the 8th grade dance, shuffling me between friends houses after school...you name it, my mom did it. And really, up until I was a senior in high school with a great group of friends who liked hanging out with my parents, I liked to pretend that she didn't do any of those things.

Moms are embarassing, moms are out to get you. Duh!

But now, at 25 (and even at 22 and 23 and 24), I wish I could see my mom every day. I wish she could still live with me so that when I get ready for work she could tell me if I look good, and she could make my lunch if I was in a rush, and I could have someone to yell at when I'm running late, because clearly that's her fault.

I call my mom every day. Sometimes I think she gets annoyed with how often I call her and how much I have to say. But she's my mom, and since she doesn't live 20 minutes away from me anymore, I need to call her and make sure she knows every single detail of my life so I can turn around and yell at her for being so nosy and wondering why she asks so many questions. Because she really does ask a lot of questions.

I love my mom. I love that she has taught me how to be independent (much to my chagrin) and I love that I have taught her bad words. I love that she & my dad have showed me how to be in a relationship and I love that I have shown her that I actually did take something away from the 18 years I lived in their house. I love that she tells me every single day how proud of me she is, and I love that I can continue to make her proud every single day.

 

For my entire 25 years, I have never once wondered if or how much my mom loved me. I have never wondered if I could tell her something, or if she would understand. I have never wished for a different mom, or even for my mom to be different (except sometimes).

Mom, even though I tell you this a lot, you're the best, and I love you. Now if you could please move back to Atlanta, all would be right in my world.

Beachy Weeky

Guess where I am?



Yep, at home with the puppers & the parents.

We farmer's marketed this morning for asparagus and cabbage and fresh oranges, we're Costco-ing this afternoon, and we're having (homecooked, delicious) dinner tonight. And we'll probably hook up the Netflix instant and watch the first episode of the Pillars of the Earth mini-series because my mama's reading the book.

I'm reading this:

with a group from church. And by reading, I mean I purchased and have carried the book around with me for the last 2 weeks. Maybe I'll actually get some reading and highlighting done while I'm here. Although I'm nervous if I whip out that bad boy, someone will start asking questions. Gram is here, she's known to do that.

Tomorrow I go home and my seemingly endless 2 months of traveling are over. Wanna know what I have to say about that?

Talk to the hand, because that's a total lie! Not sure where I'm going yet, but I have 2 tickets burning a giant hole in my pocket. I've got the travel bug big time.

Things I Love Thursday

The view from "my" office (for the next 2 days)



My pink luggage

Happy Hour at Gordon Biersch with my favorite bartender

My most favorite cruise vacation

This man



Making Shutterfly photobooks

 

Hanging with these ladies

 

And these

Christmas Spirit

I know this is 2 Christmas-related posts in a very short timespan, but I'm a girl on a Christmas spirit mission. My roommate shot down my suggestion of putting up our decorations on Sunday (watch out roommate, they'll be out in full force by this Sunday!) and I'm already plotting and planning as many Christmas extravaganzas as I can fit into my already jam-packed calendar. I've sent my mom my Christmas list, and then about a gajillion follow-up emails with other stuff I think of that I want, which I claim are just "mental reminders to myself" that I just casually copied her on. I consider it helpful, she rolls her eyes and probably reports me to spam.



Speaking of my mom, did I tell you her birthday is Christmas Eve? Yup, it has been for my whole life! So we always celebrate her birthday before dinner on Christmas Eve complete with presents and some sort of dessert. Then we have dinner. Then we do family Christmas presents, and Christmas morning Santa brings presents. Still. And it even gets held over my head.

Me: Damnit Mom what the hell?
Mom: Do you want Santa to bring you presents this year? Behave yourself.
Me: Sorry.
Mom: Well?
Me: Yes I want Santa to bring presents.

I just hope that those conversations take place in the privacy of my own home instead of say... on the MARTA bus during the afternoon commute. I bet some of those super fly businessmen think I'm pretty freakin' ridiculous. What else is new?

So, now that I've shared more background than you ever could have wondered and I still haven't found a good way to segway into this, I'll cut to the chase. WHAT THE HELL DO I GET MY FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS? AND IF I CAN'T EVEN COME UP WITH 1 THING FOR CHRISTMAS, HOW AM THE HELL AM I GOING TO FIND 2 THINGS FOR MY MOM??? (Sorry mom, and yes I still want Santa to bring us presents).

My sister is 21, almost 22, and she & I are as opposite as they come - I wear Polo sweaters to the bar and she wears 5" heels & 2" skirts. Not even exaggerating... My dad has so many tchotchke things that I would be doing him a disservice by buying him something else, and my mom just likes to melt glass & string beads. Really awesome melted glass & gorgeous beaded necklaces, but still. You get my point. They are difficult to shop for if I am going to buy anything with any real purpose. The picture frame thing is overdone, I gave them a scrapbook for their 25th wedding anniversary... I'm out of ideas. I'm stuck.

So now what? You can't even have wine delivered in Florida, or you can bet your bottom dollar they'd be getting a bottle of wine a month for the next 12. Hmph.

Help! Although I think a little trip around the mall and into a few specialty shops is calling my name... I'll report back on what I find.

Collections

I collect spoons.

My sister collects bells.

Roxxy collects shot glasses. Roxxy also gave up shots as her New Years Resolution, but that's another story for another day.

Why do we collect things? I collect spoons because I am the oldest child, and my grandma collected spoons. Then, my mom inherited her spoon collection. And one day, I'll inherit both of their spoon collections, and on and on and on. I have a spoon from nearly every place I have ever traveled in my whole life. San Fransisco, Hong Kong, NYC, and Duluth, MN, just to name a few. When I lived in Spain, my friends stole a tea spoon (literally, it was brought out with someone's tea) for me to keep. My other grandparents tried to get in on the spoon action by bringing me spoons from places they had been. I guess I put the kibash on that because it ended about as quickly as it started. You can't collect things from places you haven't been, it's practically un-American.

My friends like to make fun of the spoons that hang on the wall next to my bathroom, but those damn spoons are probably my favorite posession. They remind me of my family, of my friends, of the places I have been, and of all the places I have yet to go. I could sit and organize and re-organize my spoons for hours and I really just sit and smile. I think it's because my spoons are so much more than just stupid spoons with the names of cities on them. They remind me of how lucky I am and of how loved I am.

What do you have that reminds you of home, of the people you love, and of the people who love you? Because I really believe that everybody should have something. Even if it's an overpriced utensil.

Seriously Lame Post.

I've written out a list of Top 10 Thursday things 4 times now, only to come up very, very short. I give up on the stupid list. Instead, I'm going to pour my heart out just a little bit. Feel free to close the window if you want, or keep reading. It's really up to you. As I'm writing this, I have no idea what I'm actually going to say. Probably just ramble a little bit. (edit: I don't think these ramblings turned out half bad, but I'm the author so does my opinion really count? Unclear.)

My sister came over for dinner last night, and we had a really enjoyable little evening together. My parents brought us some fish that my dad had caught the last time they were in Atlanta (sorry if that doesn't make sense, they brought the fish to Atlanta, they didn't catch it here) and it intimidated me and smelled bad, so basically my sister came over as a security blanket so I could cook the fish. Isn't that lame?

I have been reading for the last month about how delicious pumpkin and butternut squash and spaghetti squash and all things gourd related are, and when my mom & I went apple picking I also bought a butternut squash to eat. I'd never tried squash before but I figured if everyone else liked it then I probably would too! I didn't have any vegetables for said fish dinner, so I roasted the butternut squash. It was really gross, neither of us liked it, and we tossed most of it. Isn't that lame?

My sister still lives in the sorority house and she brought over carrot cake for dessert. It was so cute, she brought it over in a styrofoam cup because they were out of to-go boxes, and it even had a little fork stuffed in it. In hindsight, I should have taken a picture, but instead I took one big bite because I really like carrot cake only to realize that apparently the new chef at the sorority house is a big fan of walnuts. I am not, at least not in my carrot cake. Isn't that lame?

And lastly, it's my 2nd to last day at work and I am so pleased that almost all the candy that I keep at my desk is gone, except the red & blue sour gummy worms. I bought the CVS brand sour gummy worms and upon first taste, decided they TOTALLY SUCKED and refused to eat anymore, hence them being out on my desk for everyone to eat. Well, I quickly changed my mind and consumed all the delicious tasting sour gummy worms, starting with the best ones until only the worst remained. And now I have 5 measly red & blue sour gummy worms sitting on my desk waiting to be eaten, but they're nasty. Isn't that lame?

Now I have to go do work I was supposed to do 3 weeks ago, because when I leave they are going to quickly figure out I haven't done it. That is especially lame.

How Do You Know...

...when to eat the last cookie? (and when not to?)
...when to tell the friend the harsh truth? (and when to sugarcoat it?)
...when to buy flowers for yourself? (and when to let someone else buy them for you?)
...when to spend the whole day in bed? (and when you should get your lazy butt up?)
...when to play in the rain? (and when it's not worth it to get wet?)
...when to spend your last $5? (and when to save it for ice cream later?)
...when to leave a toxic relationship? (and when to stand by someone who needs you?)
...when to head out of town on a spontaneous trip? (and when to plan out your whole day?)
...when to be confrontational? (and when to pick your battles?)

These are all thoughts that occurred to me today. It has been one of the most fantastic holiday weekends I have had in recent memory, and that is due in part to my friends, my family, myself, and the universe. I laughed, I cried, I gave a hug, I received a hug, I celebrated a relationship moving forward and mourned a relationship lost. I learned more than I ever expected to, thanks to the people who made the weekend so wonderful. It has never been more clear to me that I am on the right path, and that my life is moving in the direction it is supposed to be.

Now if only my ankle stopped hurting, my knee stopped throbbing, and I could walk without a limp. Hey -- I never said the weekend was perfect :)

Happy Birthaversary!

Who's got awesome plans this weekend? Oh, me!!!!

I am heading to the Twin Cities with my mom, dad & sister to celebrate my paternal grandparents. This past June, my grandmother celebrated her 80th birthday, January 2011 marks their 60th wedding anniversary, and June 2011 marks my grandfather's 80th birthday. 80TH BIRTHDAYS!! 60TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES!!! We'll also throw in a visit to the Uptown Art Fair, the Mall of America, and dinner with my hilarious godfather and his family.

The par-tay is going to be awesome. My aunt has over 100 RSVP's. That's a lot of frickin' people, most of whom my grandparents have known for the better part of their 60 years of marriage. Most of them also saw me in diapers, or watched me chase my grandparents cat down the stairs (the cat won). My grandmother has also undoubtedly told them the day I started my period, when I stopped sucking my thumb, and how often I wet the bed as a little kid (never!). What can I say, she's just proud! The party will be filled with people 30 years, at least, my senior, who are going to want to know how I am, where I'm working, how long it's been since I graduated college, and when I'm going to start producing great-grand-babies. The answer to the last question is entirely dependent on the male species, with whom I am currently waging a war, so when the question of great-grand-babies comes up I might run to the bathroom and cry. That's after my throat is practically numb from yelling because let's be honest... at 80 years old your hearing ain't at it's finest.

Despite all of those things, I am beyond excited about this weekend. Something about my first memorable family reunion that screams fun! excitement! drama! yelling! posing for pictures! gossip! And most importantly of all, I get to see my mama. I miss her. I'm bringing her a present. It's not from me, it's from my dad. Wanna know why? They are celebrating 26 years of being married next week! Last year for 25 years I made them a scrapbook with letters & pictures from friends and family, so this year I feel no guilt in doing nothing but showing up in Minneapolis. That's present enough, right?

Happy Anniversary Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and everyone else in the whole world. I'm proud of you and inspired by you and can't wait for someone to celebrate me one day! (yep, always gotta bring it back to me.)

My sista.

My sister may not be my best friend, but she's the only sister I've got, and I'm pretty dang excited that she is coming home.

You may ask: Where has she been?
Germany.

Then you may wonder: For how long?
10 weeks.

And then clearly because you are as nosy as me: Why for?
Because she likes bratwurst, castles, and speaking German. Not beer. She hates beer. Don't you Lauren?? Who knows, maybe she'll come home loving beer. She'd have one very happy older sister, who might throw an "I told you so" at her, because beer=heaven. Well, Bud Light = Heaven.

And if you are still wondering anything, it is probably: Why am I glad she is returning?
I don't have to babysit her car anymore. My parents won't spend all the time I'm with them BBM'ing her. She'll resume her position of irresponsible child (she's been hard to keep tabs on while 6 time zones away). I'll have someone to go out to eat with to all the crappy restaurants we really like to go to. I'll have family within driving distance in case like... I get in a car accident and can't fend for myself. I mean there is nothing saying she won't tell them to go ahead and pull the plug, but at least someone will be there for me that is of blood relation. Plus, I mean... she's my little sister. I gotta watch out for her and take care of her and when she's 6 time zones away it makes it really hard for me to tell her what to do and how to do it and stuff. Even if it does make me want to slit my wrists when she calls me sissy.

She'll be here on Saturday, my daddy will be here on Wednesday... this is shaping up to be quite the week. Welcome home little family of mine! I am glad that for the first time since May we will all be on the same continent, and 3/4 will be in the same state. We'll talk about this whole move to Florida/my life in a storage unit another day. I don't have any issues with it or anything.

Confession Friday

As seems to be the theme in the blogging world these days, I bring to you a themed Friday post. Confessions. Mine, yours, we'll share them and feel better about ourselves.

My first one dates back to 6th grade. 1998. 12 years ago. We had to write a paper about the person who inspires us. I thought and thought, and thought some more. I didn't want to be cheesy and write about my mom. I didn't want to be a total dork and write about an author of my favorite books (I did that in 5th grade and got relentlessly made fun of). So I chose wisely - I chose my favorite next-door-neighbor who was also mother of 2 children who I loved like little sisters. She was like my super cool, young, hip, rad aunt who knew all the secrets that my mom just didn't know anything about. Our own moms, at the time, were so totally uncool.

So I write my paper about Christina, how she inspired me and how wonderful she was. Either I kept it a secret from my mom or I just didn't show her my rough draft, but either way she never saw it until after the dreadful day I showed it to Christina. In my physical description of this woman that I loved so much, I wrote about her beautiful ash colored hair, her short haircut, her lovely eyes, her slight double chin, how she was the same height as me.... oh did you catch that part? Yes, in describing this 30-something mom of 2 and friend to me, I included that she had a slight double chin.

So I take my final draft after I had turned it in and my mom & I take it to show Christina. Christina reads it, laughs, shows it to my mom, and then... she asked me if I knew what a double chin was. YES!!! I nodded seriously, of course I knew what a double chin was. Then my mother proceeded to tell me, in front of Christina, about how it wasn't very nice to point that out about someone, and it was one of those unspoken of things in life, and that what the hell Katie, Christina doesn't even have a double chin anyway?

So here is my confession: I honestly had no idea what the heck a double chin was in 1998 and lied to look smart and it TOTALLY backfired. FYI, that was not the last time lying about my wealth of knowledge has totally backfired and made me look like a fool.

Also, sorry Chris. I hope you have loved me anyway after all these years. You probably don't even remember this, but man oh man do I. And for the record, you did not and still do not have anything resembling a double chin. That's all.

I Give Up On Nostalgia

When my parents moved in 2008, for the entire year before that, my mom had slowly but surely meticulously packed boxes upon boxes upon BOXES of our stuff and moved it to a storage unit near our house. She had a list with the boxes number, written on the outside, and the list told her what was in each box. When the house sold, all the sudden things were a lot less meticulous and the things that we used on a daily basis got shoved in with my old baby dolls and Lauren's old Barbies.

Lauren's old Barbies also warrant a post in and of themselves, because when we attempted to clean out the storage unit, we uncovered ELEVEN BOXES OF BARBIES. That doesn't include her Barbie house, cars, boats, etc. But I digress.

So back at Thanksgiving last year, I decided that I wanted, er, HAD TO HAVE, all my stuff out of the storage unit. I didn't trust that storage unit with all those nasty bugs, I thought someone was going to come in and steal all of my Berenstein Bears books and my report cards from Kindergarten-12th grade, and I was POSITIVE that the rest of my family just could not be responsible for my personal items that I just had to have for the rest of my life or I would die, such as my Bee, my spoon cabinets, and a mirror my best friend etched for me for my 17th birthday.

My mom & I dug through all 493 boxes and I found all the things I wanted. My spoon collection, my Berenstein Bears books, my report cards from Kindergarten-12th grade, the newspaper I was quoted in after 9/11, holiday decorations, the whole nine yards.

Well now that I've rifled through it all and gotten nostalgic and cried over pictures of my 135 lb 18 year old body, all that SHIT is sitting in my our entryway closet taking up a lot of space, and really not getting used. Now that I know it's there, I don't really want it. I'd like direct and immediate access to it, but I really don't need it to be sitting in our closet taking up copious amounts of space (and I'd imagine my roommate will be delighted with the removal of these things from our house). So tonight, I will be removing it from my immediate vicinity and putting it BACK in the storage unit, trusting that at least if it goes up in flames tomorrow, I won't be the only one missing 20 years of my life.

Father's Day

I was having a hard time deciding what to get for/do for my dad for Father's Day.

Option 1: Season 1 Big Bang Theory. My dad loves this show, as I think a lot of dad's will. Bazinga.

Option 2: A gift card to the Bass Pro Shop. Since moving to Florida, he has become addicted to fishing. This warrants another post in and of itself.

Option 3: Georgia Tech gear. He can never have enough. EVER.

Option 4: Just send a card and call it a day.

Option 5: Treat him to dinner with me next time he's in town (approx. every 6 weeks).

In the end, I went with Option 3! I bought him a pair of GT Croakies, and I bought myself a matching pair. I gave them to him while I was visiting with them in SanDestin over Memorial Day Weekend, and I have to say... HUGE SUCCESS!!! He put them on immediately and even when I saw him today, was still sporting the GT Croakies!

So, if you are looking for a gift idea for Pops Day, hopefully these were some thought-provoking ideas. If not... leave some suggestions in the comments for others!

I'll do a full tribute to my Dad post soon... he's earned it :)