Sunday, May 4, 2014

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Possible Demon Cat

You may recall me telling you of NJ before. This is NJ:



He "came with" the house. And what I mean by that is that he was on the front porch when we moved in. He adopted us. He's never left. He's a cool guy and the unofficial mascot of "The Patio" (TP). He's pretty chill unless you touch his tummy. NEVER TOUCH HIS TUMMEH!

A couple days ago, this other cat showed up. It's a neighborhood cat, but he's never really hung around our house super often. He's taken to hanging out at the side door. This is the other cat:



I've never really known how to take him, but I try to give everyone a chance, so I was nice to PCD.

As I was leaving from my lunch break on Friday, this happened:

































Saturday, May 12, 2012

My Lion Story

This is the last time I will blog a depressing blog on this subject. I promise. In fact, I wasn't going to do it, but when I told Libby this story, she liked it, and when I told my mom the story, she kept saying "That is just the best story." ALL YESTERDAY AFTERNOON.

So what better to do when you wake at 6 am on a Saturday than tell a story?

Without going into too much specifics, let me just tell you that I had a rejection this week. By a boy. I knew I wasn't going to hear what I wanted to hear, but I'm one of those girls who just HAS TO GO FOR IT. (I'm still waiting for that personality trait to pay off.) I just needed my feelings out in the air. Bad move? Probably, but whatever. It happened.

Timeout. Anyone else seen Mat Kearney's "Ships in the Night" video? Could he sing if he was sitting on his hands?

Time in.

I take rejection WAAAAAY too personally sometimes. Every time, actually. I will literally sit there for a very long time and try to dissect what exactly was wrong with me and why exactly I wasn't good enough for something. (This does not only happen in the area of boys. It can be with my own family, even. Or jobs. Or any manner of silly thing.) But in my defense, being rejected isn't really anything that's easy and you just go "OK! COOL! THANKS FOR CRUSHING MY MOST OF ME!!" and then skip through a flowery meadow. But I still didn't need to take it as hard as I did.

It. Was. Ridiculous. I seriously don't even know who that Thursday Katie was.

When I got home for lunch on Thursday, I pulled into the garage and just sat in my car and ugly cried for awhile. Through the swollen, puffy slits in my face that I now called "eyes", I looked up and through the tears I noticed one of the old clear tubs that contains my precious childhood artifacts. I could see the outline of Squeaky Mouse, and Bunny, and then I saw the face of a little lion that I had never named and quite frankly, I'd forgotten I'd even kept him.

"HAH!" I bitterly said out loud, "Betcha wish you could go back to THOSE DAYS." and I got out of my car and slammed every door I could find. (Again. Totally mature.) I went in, sat on my couch, watched "Sherlock", yelled, pet Cordy, and did everything BUT eat. (Why? Because someone would notice I wasn't eating? *rolls eyes*)

I got back to work, and I was there for about an hour when I could feel the tears well up again and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. Sometimes it's nice working at a place with public restrooms. There's a certain anonymity that comes with it. You don't have to worry about people knocking on the door and asking "Are you OK in there?".

I locked myself in my favorite middle stall and buried my face in my hands and prayed "Lord, I just do NOT GET THIS. I've been locking myself in this stall and having this conversation with you since last NOVEMBER. WHAT THE HECK!?!? What is it about him that reduces me to an angry, ridiculous, kicking, screaming, crying, temper tantrum throwing maniac? I never even threw temper tantrums like this when I was a KID!!" (My parents can back me up on that.)

And then God ever so gently reminded me of one.

I was waaaaay too old to have a temper tantrum. Like 10 or 11. Yeah. It's embarrassing. (Almost as embarrassing as being 27 and doing the same thing, but I digress.) I was going through this "BUY ALL THE STUFFED ANIMALS!!!" phase. (I was probably too old for that as well.) If I felt a "connection" with one, I HAD to take it with me and give it love and a wonderful home. (And write stories about it. When I was a kid, I didn't have Instagram so I wrote stories instead.)

My family and I went to Walmart one night (it must've been quite the outing because even my Dad went, and he friggin HATES Walmart) and of course my brother and I asked to go look at toys. (Even now, when I'm at work and I hear kids ask their parents "CAN I GO LOOK AT TOYS??!??!" it brings a smile to my face.) We went to go look and I went straight for the stuffed animals.

And theeeeerrrrrrree he waaaaaaasssss!! The cutest little tiger you ever saw. He had the cutest eyes, the cutest little eyebrows, and he had a stuffed body with limp legs and huge stuffed paws. He almost looked like a little puppet. Oh! And the best part? He had a little voice box and he ROARED. I know. I know. It was simply too much.

When Mom and Dad came back around, I attacked them immediately.

"IFORGOTMYMONEYBUTIFYOUBUYMETHISTIGERIWILLPAYYOUBACK!!!!!!!!!!!"

"No, Katie."

"PLEEEEASE!??!"

"No."

So, I snuck away in order to attack my only other option: my brother.

"IFORGOTMYMONEYBUTIFYOUBUYMETHISTIGERIWILLPAYYOUBACK!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Ok." (He was considerably easier to persuade.)

So I informed my parents of our new plan, and their response?

"No."

This resulted in me CRYING and BEGGING and PLEADING and just being overwhelmingly unruly and stupid. It also resulted in lots of weird looks from strangers. I vowed then and there that I WOULD be returning for that tiger.

It was the mid 90's, and my mom actually painstakingly planned her trips to Walmart, so it would be at least a week before I made it back. When I got there, the tiger was GONE. But there was a lion like it, so it would just have to do. I would not be defeated.

As I exited the stall after that lovely trip down memory lane, I was like "Ok. Fine. Thanks for reminding me of that stupid story, God." And I wiped my eyes and went to go get a drink out of the drinking fountain. I was just about to take a drink when it hit me: The little lion face I saw peering out of the clear tub at lunch, the lion I hadn't thought of in YEARS and actually kinda forgot I even HAD, was THAT lion.

What in the HAIL?!?!?

Why would I even look up and notice that tub when I was on lunch? What would've caused me to even THINK to look up when I was crying my face off in my car?

Sometimes, you don't get the tiger you want and beg and plead for. And sometimes the lion seems like your reluctant second choice, but in the long run, it might be a better choice and you might need it.


He's one dapper dude. Look at that face.


Also, he can rock the shades.

It was "fun" digging him out of the tub when I got home. It was on the tippy top shelf and so I had to take off my heels, stand on an old DQ chair in the garage, somehow perch over the lawnmower AND a bicycle, move a Christmas tree box, and then attempt to pull him out of the middle of the tub. It obviously worked, but I was hoping my body wouldn't pull a "Grace" and end up a crumbled bag of bones on the garage floor.

Here lies Katie: She was retrieving a stuffed animal for a metaphor.

THE END.

P.S. Little Lion Man needs a name. Any suggestions?

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Advantages and Disadvantages

There are advantages and disadvantages to everything. Today, we will profile drinking. (I have a slight buzz going as we speak. You know. Just for the sake of science.)

ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF DRINKING:



























Wednesday, May 2, 2012

PMS For Dummies

After a visit to my Dr last month (first Dr visit in 3 years. THANK YOU INSURANCE!!) she decided to put me on birth control for a month and see if some of my health issues could be relieved. Come on, people. Mind out of the gutter. I have broken ovaries, ok? Ok. Good talk. (But while we're on the subject of gutter... nevermind.)

This week is "off pill" week, and let me tell you, brothers and sisters, if I live through it, it will be an EVERLOVINGMIRACLE. Libby and I were discussing PMS vs Birth Control PMS today and I told her the difference was that Regular PMS just looks at BC PMS and laughs hysterically.

I'm not lying.

This is a picture of me trying to get my computer to work so I could draw this blog. (Blogging outside because it's beautiful today.)


(On the right, you see a person fairly concerned about the lack of her computer's performance. On the left, you see a person ready to lob her computer into the depths of Mordor.)

I have seriously almost murdered my dog 57 times JUST SINCE BEING OUTSIDE.

You believe me now, huh? Thought so.

I know that being a woman automatically qualifies me for the gift of having emotions that change quicker than the weather in Kansas, but I've managed to pretty much avoid that for much of my life and for that I am grateful. If these last few days are any indication of how most girls are or how pregnancy or menopause is going to be, I'm handing in my lady resignation RIGHTNAO.

Here's a few of the things have happened to me JUST TODAY (more specifically since I've been out on my back patio).


(This one is obviously not a thought. It's an introduction.)


(Cordy got caught around one of the patio tables and I LOST MY ISH.)


(I saw a butterfly.)

(This happened.)


(Yep.)


(I thought all of these thoughts.)


(Brother was so kind as to point out that it looks like "PANK ATTACK" but I left it anyway. He also wanted to know exactly what I'm doing with my body here, but I had no answer.)


(This was his insightful description of the previous frame. He's not wrong.)


(Not an exaggeration.)


(We mostly just need the cookies and the cuddles. It's a small price to pay for peace and keeping your face, am I right?)


(Brother says we need to wear signs.)

I am glad this only lasts a week.