Monday, October 22, 2007


Last week I received a catalog from Chadwicks. I haven't ordered anything from Chadwicks in 7 years. Apparently, they noticed. The front of my catalog read, "Is this the end, Katy?" and had a coupon for 40% off any item. Fortuitously enough, I am in the market for a new coat, and after perusing their online selections, keeping in mind my budget of $75 or less for said new coat, I found this. With my 40% off coupon, this lovely item will be mine for $41.99, plus superfast shipping. I am now a very happy girl.

If only I could find an 80% off coupon for these.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Happy Birthday to Dave!

Today is Dave's birthday! To a wonderful husband and father, handsome and sweet, funny and charming,



Monday, October 15, 2007

At Least I'm Not the Only One

I am on a first-name relationship with Guilt. We know each other well, have lunch several times a week, and chat before I go to sleep every night. Suffice to say, I look at most situations as an opportunity to call up my hateful friend Guilt so she can tell me how generally wrong I am as a person.

Part of the problem is this - I have a really, really, really sick sense of humor. The things I find very funny aren't the stuff of romantic comedies. Thanks to this smart and beautiful woman, I learned of this website, which I find far more intelligent and entertaining than this could ever hope to be.

So, in an instant messaging conversation the other day, I made an offhand snide comment to a friend about one of our coworkers. As soon as I said this comment, I felt the sharp elbow of Guilt in the base of my skull, accompanied by her hissing whisper in my ear saying "that one's going to cost you". Immediately, I began apologizing to my coworker for saying such a horrible thing, using this instance as an example of how I am unworthy for human contact and should be cast out of society, and that I am no better than another shared acquaintance (who could give lessons to this person). My friend advised me that there are drugs readily available that could help me come to grips with my dysfunctional relationship with guilt. I told her there was no help for me. Then she said something that was a salve to my spirit, and made me laugh so hard that I had a mild seizure:

"Yesterday, I almost backed over an old man in the grocery store parking lot. After I recovered from the shock and shame, I got really pissed at him for getting in my way."

I will treasure this for the rest of my life.

Friday, October 5, 2007

There Just Aren't Words

This week, our friends experienced a horrible loss. Their son, Nathan, died suddenly and unexpectedly. Nathan was ten years old - he was a very funny and kind little guy, and impacted the lives of many people. He will be missed terribly - his absence leaves a hole in our hearts. No words can express the depth of sorrow, or the pain his family is feeling. Losing a loved one is incredibly painful, and the loss of a child is unimaginable. There aren't enough words, not now or ever.

Parenthood is fraught with frustration - the challenges of raising a child are many, and one constantly questions each decision. We plot a course toward the end result of creating a responsible and moral adult out of a totally egocentric being, seeing their personality develop and wondering all along the way what mistakes we are making. We remember every misstep, and forget our successes. There is no finish line, no blue ribbon, only the intangible rewards - and those rewards are so precious, they outweigh every worry that keeps us up all night, and each searing pang of self-doubt. We make plans for the rest of our lives, preparing for when we're gone, fully expecting that we will die long before they do. To think the opposite defies logic, contrasts the natural order of things.

Here is the legacy of Nathan's life and death, for me: there is never enough time, so I will spend it wisely. Everyone has a different perspective, so I'll try to look at things from new angles. Tomorrow will get here soon enough, so I'll lose focus of the end result, and enjoy what's there right now.

Life is sometimes so tragically short.