Tag: Asheville

today

It’s been a hectic few days, a whole lot more work than one should have to do from Sunday to just a few minutes ago…but I’m done.  I’ve ordered takeout for dinner, I’m kicking off my shoes and putting on fuzzy ridiculous cozy pjs to greet the delivery driver.

I needed something today that I didn’t get, something free yet irreplaceable and one of a kind.  Oh well.  We can’t make other people do what we want them to do.  I suppose there’s always tomorrow.

What I did get today surprised me.  I won’t go into it at length because that’s private and I share a whole lot less than you might think, despite this forum of oversharing we call the Kat Box.  I will be generic and say I got an apology of sorts and a clearing of the conscience statement out of the blue today, one I never expected to get.  I didn’t think I was owed an apology in this instance–we all weren’t on our best behavior, I suppose–and I will say that it was so out of the blue that I cried.  I’m not a boo-hoo type of girl at all, but there was some relief to a weight that I didn’t even know was still burdening me after all this time…and the relief was so welcome in a semi-shitty day that I just put my head down on the desk and cried for a good five minutes.  I’ll clarify here and say this apology of sorts wasn’t exactly an olive branch, wasn’t exactly a mending of broken fences, but it helped clear the air and that is enough to be meaningful. 

Never assume you know what someone else is thinking, let them tell you when they’re ready.

And so, with that, having not gotten what I wanted/needed today, I did get something else completely different out of this day, and that’s good enough.  That’s good enough.

my very special friends

The photos I took at my own birthday soiree weren’t all that great, I’m told.  Everyone is all blurry and obviously the camera angle is all crooked…and yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that I must have been so sloshed to take such horrible pictures.

It’s truth time.  It’s time to come clean about those photos, time to come clean about my friends in those photos.  I can’t be silent about this anymore.

Here’s the 411, I hope you can handle the reality, it’s pretty harsh: those photos, all those blurry photos I took from my birthday party…you need to stop making fun of them right now. 

The facts are not that I was so sloshed I couldn’t take a proper photo; instead, the cold truth is that all my friends are blurry around the edges.  That’s right:  All my friends are blurry.  Some of my friends are even askew and off center.  So what?  I’m ok with that!  There was nothing wrong with me or my camera at my birthday party, and darn it, there’s nothing wrong with my friends, my blurry fuzzy hard to recognize friends.  Blurry people are people, too, with feelings, hopes and dreams!  I won’t have anymore blurry bashing; if you can’t be open minded enough to accept the blurry people in my life, you just need to move on, man, move on…

birthday

Good birthday so far.  Got my first birthday kind thoughts in my email inbox at 12:12 AM (yes, I know, I shoulda been sleeping, tell me something I don’t already know), and it’s been all good since, but I have been so well celebrated with food that I might explode!  Gawd bless T for bringing my favorite juice smoothie AND a bendy straw this morning.  Warm cookies.  Breakfast casserole.  Haven’t even gotten into the banana split fixin’s I was generously gifted with today, and dinner awaits, too.  I’m so thrilled at being thought of this year, just giddy about it.  Karaoke and paintball tomorrow…come one, come all, let me shoot at you and sing horribly off key (but with enthusiasm) to you…

The Lawnmower is my Superior

I bow to the lawnmower.

The lawnmower is smarter, funnier, cuter and more well read than I could ever hope to be.

The lawnmower is all powerful, all hail my lawnmower.

Sigh. Ok. I hope that by sucking up to my lawnmower in a public forum that the son of a bitch will work on a regular basis.  First, it took nearly 30 minutes to start the mofo today.  This is not unusual.  Don’t you dare ask me something snide like Well do you even know how to start a lawnmower because I will go all ninja on your ass before you can blink.  Of course I know how to start the mower.  I’ve been mowing and mowing and mowing since I was 15, nearly 20 years of starting mowers. 

This particular lawnmower knows me, hates me and doesn’t want to start for me.  I have to sneak up on it to get it to start so it doesn’t have time to realize it’s me.  After 30 minutes of pulling the stupid cord and cussing a lot, the mower started.  I was so happy!  I mowed one side of the front lawn in that random all over the place way that I mow which is very similar to the random all over the place way that I think, all zig zags all over the place. 

I went to the other side of the driveway, and it quit.  Lovely.  Topped off the gas, tried to start it.  No dice.  Pulled weeds, came back, still won’t start.  Cussed, shook my fist, nope.  Got out the old school push mower, just me pushing the rotary blade while every mosquito in a 20 mile radius tried to dine on me.  I was hoping that the newer gas powered mower would be intimidated and jealous of the push mower and would start out of envy.  No.  I put the push mower away and focused on starting the regular mower…I mean, c’mon, it was just working a few minutes ago.  And I tried.  And I tried.  And my hands hurt.  My shoulders hurt.  My shirt was soaked through with sweat.  I cussed.  I begged.  I had to give up when it was too dark to see the grass anymore.

I will try again tomorrow, fulling acknowledging that the lawnmower is bringing sexy back, that it’s too sexy for its shirt.  All hail the mighty lawnmower that will stun us with its grass cutting prowess!  (if it doesn’t start, will someone just bring me a goat? thanks)

don’t let me watch tv, I get all girly and sensitive

I try not to watch tv.  I get sucked in and lose valuable time.  I get all lost in tear-jerking 2 hour episodes of House like I did tonight and end up feeling all sensitive and girly.

And then, once I get all freakin’ sensitive and girly, I have to start sharing things.  I must.  I can’t stop myself.  Crap.  Here I go, or I won’t be able to sleep…here comes the sharing, nice Kat and after 2 emotional hours of House, I have a lot to say: 

My birthday’s coming up (you must have been under a rock not to know that), and there’s a lot to think about, be grateful for, so very much on my mind.  I’m so excited about paintballing and dinner and karaoke for my birthday that I can hardly hold myself together.  I’m tickled pink not to have to throw my own party this year–thanks, T! 

I’m full of gratitude as this 35th birthday rolls around.  It’s been a tough year in a lot of ways, but I think I’ve picked myself up, dusted myself off and moved right along fairly well.  Dang that Chiquita for trying pretty hard to drop dead earlier this year and stressing me the hell out! Thank goodness she bounced back to eat apple fritters with me in TN and worry with me about poonanny maintenance!  And the V-man, glad you’re back in my life, though I hate that it took your illness to put you here, but I accept that sometimes that’s how life works–now and then, it takes the hardships to inspire us to reach out. 

The Bean and the Steinster moved away; while it bummed me out they had to move on down the road and I miss their jokes already, I’m so pleased they took the opportunities offered.  Miss Rosey, I’m glad that while it seemed like you were leaving, you got to stay after all; you’re a cool chickie.  Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, move that man into your house already; it’s killin’ me.  Annie Oakley, I’m so glad to walk and talk and harass Subway employees with you.  And speaking of lunch, that reminds me to get all grateful for Mr. Oddstar and the time we manage to find to split nachos with extra jalapenos and no tomato and talk about life; you know I’ll perform your wedding ceremony: I’m ordained! 

Mr. Dog and Uncle 420, thanks for always believing in the Kat Box and for helping me have this forum for the last, what, 8 years or so?  I’d be in a rubber room without it, and your offer to beat up those menfolk that have wronged me with baseball bats has always been such a comfort in my times of woe, thank you!!

Scoot gets mad props for building a good campfire and always letting me drink the majority of his beer without complaint; our younguns are gonna be hell on wheels together before we know it!  Ms. Morgan keeps me ever amused with her on-going sagas of love, keep ’em coming, along with your birthday celebrations laden with pumpkin cheesecake.  Baby Bro, I suppose that now that I’m just about 35 and you’re 33 that I might finally let you drive on our roadtrips——-nah, ask me again when you’re 35; bummer about CrueFest, but STP was crazy fun and so were all those roller coasters this summer!

I haven’t exactly made peace with the ex Mr. Kat 2.0 yet, but I have made some peace at long last with ex Mr. Kat 1.0 and that’s big progress over this time last year.  I saw 1.0 today and didn’t once yearn to punch him in the eye! That’s a huge change, so much can happen in a year.

This year we’ve had a bunch of potlucks and the absolute most hilarious food fight ever; I learned how hard it is to shake rice out of my ear and how pee in my pants funny it is to throw Jello in my unsuspecting friend Annie’s face.  Remember last year in September how I insisted on cake for my birthday potluck and had so much cake that I ate it for every meal for days and days!?! You were all so very, very good to me, showing me love with cake! Omg, it was so good to see my beloved Mr. Sutton for my last birthday, such a treat! I love those parties and camping trips and road trips and dinners; somehow I’ve become a social director on this cruise ship of life and I’m ok with that.

Spider John, come out and play with us.  Ricardo Allejandro of the High Mountains, I’ll perform your wedding ceremony, but I have questions about going commando under the kilt I know you’ll wear (what if it’s windy?!).  Vernie Sue & Ada Mae, ever so glad to still have you around–remember when we were just a bunch of goofy Warren Wilson freshmen (we’re still goofy)? NatureGal, you and your old man are such a good match; it’s so sweet and inspiring.  Sparky, what more can I tell you other than what you already know for sure? Thanks for making me smile a lot.  SGF, you are such an SGF and I’ll always be the NSGF (the color on my toes is Rocker Blues).  Don, send nosejob pix and thank you for turning me into a nut for cold sake.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m sure I missed a lot of folks in this lengthy drawn out rambling sensitive girly nonsense, but I have to stop now, I’m sorry! I’m getting sleepy finally, and I’ve worked most of the girly-osity out of my system at last.  So much has happened from turning 34 to getting ready to turn 35–thanks for all the adventures we’ve had, friends, and all the new adventures yet to come.  Thanks for the parts you play in the story that is my life, let’s see what happens in the next chapter!  Much love to all…g’nite!

2 more quotes

I’m a quote collecting junkie.  I think I like quotes so much because the words let me know that someone else has felt exactly what I feel; that notion is both comforting and inspiring to me.

“We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are.”
— Max DePree

“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”
— Carl Bard

Raise a glass to brand new happy endings!

My birthday, my birthday, yay yay yay

It’s time for my birthday!  There is no such thing as celebrating me too much!  If my parents had given me birthday parties as a child, I wouldn’t have to overcompensate like this as an adult!

The official date is September 5, but I am open to adoration and celebration starting right now.  If you have no idea what I want for my birthday, I will accept cash…and then I will kick you for not paying attention to my needs, wishes and whims.

Further poonanny thoughts…

If you use your poonanny too much, it will fall out–Chiquita and I decided that earlier this week.  After much thought on my behalf, I also determined that if you don’t use it at all, it will dry up, turn to dust and blow away.  “Oh wow, it’s been a really bad pollen season, look at the coating of dust on everything!”  Noooooooooooooooo, it’s been a really bad frigid bitch season; that’s the residue from dried up poonannies!

Use it or lose it, but don’t dare abuse it!

Blech!

So this morning, I was returning a loaner child bright & early, so we could go and get the next loaner child (I was meant to have more kids, but it didn’t play out, so we borrow extras all the time!) for our day’s adventure.  I was running behind a little bit, given that loaner child number one and Minime were sleepy, grouchy and completely dragging ass.  Didn’t have time to feed them a proper breakfast, so I cruised through the McD’s drive thru (“No, you’re getting whatever’s 2 for $2, shush!”) to grab them some chow and some caffeine for me.  I ordered a bucket or a trough or a silo of the sacred and much needed Diet Dr. Pepper along with their breakfast and zoomed on down the road.  After throwing biscuits over my shoulder to the younguns, I poke the straw in and take a big gulp of OHMYGAWDTHISISNOTWHATIORDEREDGROSSSSSSS sweet tea.  I promptly spit most of it in the middle of the steering wheel, given that not only was it sweet tea which I do not drink, but it was still warm sweet tea, which ups the nasty ante about 110%.  What I didn’t spit on the steering wheel I managed to spit into every napkin McD’s gave us.  Blech! BLECH!

I don’t drink sweet iced tea.  Or unsweetened iced tea.  I’m sure I could lose my southern belle credentials over such an admission; I do, however, like grits, so I should be able to retain my standing.  Even though I don’t drink it, I’ve done enough time in food service that I’m told I make a lovely pitcher of sweet tea in my own home…and if it’s very sweet and very very very cold, I can take courtesy itty bitty micro sips of sweet tea if that’s what I’m served at someone else’s house.  But I surely can not drink it still warm when I was anticipating the fizzy goodness of a Diet Dr. Pepper bright and early on a Sunday morning.

I noticed on my road trip today, the middle of the steering wheel is still a touch sticky.  I wonder if I can sue McD’s and have them detail my car?  I’m going to call Joel Bieber right now…