As I was perusing some of my favorite blogs and wondering why they hadn't posted in a while, I thought, perhaps, I should post...because what if by some crazy stretch of my imagination someone was thinking that about my blog. Or...what if you're thinking, "Seriously, Katie, WTF? We've had enough of your blog-pushing ways for one night."

Eh, eff it. I'll post anyway. You clicked. You're here. You're reading.

I'm copying someone elses (What the hell...why can't I get that line to go away. Is "elses" not a word? It's not a word, is it?) idea.

Here are the things I'm loving this week:
My New Pill Box
Yeah, you read that right. My new pill box. It's hot pink and it has three compartments. You should have seen how excited my friend and I were at The Container Store. The 87 year-olds trapped inside us were thrilled about the pill boxes.


So, now my pills don't get mixed up. Allergy pills, Ibuprofen, and Midol. Check, check, and check. It fits in my purse perfectly and I can't wait until someone I know says, "Geez, I really have _____________ (bad allergies, a headache, a broken femur, a skinned knee, cramps, appendicitis) Ok, I can't help for all of those things, but someday, maybe and I'll be able to say it all started with my pink pill box. Best ninety-nine cents I ever spent.


The People at Dutch Bros

I don't know if they have to take a class in awesomeness but sometimes I go there just to feel like I have more friends than I actually do. They are so genuine and fun and happy and they make me feel like I'm their BFF. Do you think it would be weird to see if they wanted to come to a slumber party at my house and play Girl Talk and, maybe, go teepeeing later?


Flag Post-its

I'm back in school and they are ah-mazing. I flag places in my book. I write notes on the edge. Sometimes I just get them out to look at the fun and complimenting colors of them. Organization + Aesthetically Pleasing to the Eye = A Happy Me!


My Lavender Sleep Pillow Spray

Ahhh, I'm drifting off in to dreamland just thinking of it.

There are very few possessions in my world that are very important to me. I'm not a huge jewelry person...or perhaps I'm just not in to jewelry because nobody GIVES me jewelry (a blog for another day). I'm not attached to my furniture or old stuffed animals or special clothing. I AM, however, super attached to people and my memories with them.

Most days I'm just Katie. I'm not "that girl whose mom died." But today, right now, in this moment, I am her. I am that girl who lost her mom. Why? Because today I had a complete and total meltdown. As with most meltdowns, they don't give a lot of notice. It's not like they put a post-it on your computer and say, "I'm coming at 5 pm, so have the tissues ready and your best friend on stand-by.

I don't know about you but I don't have melt-downs often but when I do...I really like to wallow in them. As if the tears weren't enough, I like to go ahead and put on the saddest music possibly, look at some old photos and stay there, in my misery for at least 10 minutes. Are you thinking, 10 minutes, that's not that long. No, it's not. I don't have bad days, I have bad moments. Today, this evening, very hard moment.

Let me help you put all of these puzzle piece together...
I'm not really hooked on possessions but I am very hooked on people, specifically my mom. Anyone who knew us knew that we had quite a bond. Even through the bickering and nonsense, we were quite a pair.

In fact, in the last e-mail she ever wrote me (after we had Argument #6,798 in our relationship) at the end of the e-mail she said,
XOMom Your Mom The imperfect one, The one you like best:)
Are you smiling yet? OF course you are! You're an optimist, silly:) So's
your brother, and thank goodness, so's your sister-in-law...

The imperfect one...but I thought she was pretty darn great...and she thought the same of me.

I know most moms and daughters are like that. It was a thick bond, one that can't be duplicated with anyone else. It's like she knew my every thought, even before they entered my head. She was my first phone call for advice on anything and her opinion always mattered the most.

This is not to say that mothers and sons don't have the same. Don't even get me started on the relationship my brother and mom had, one I will never understand, but again, you knew it was strong and certainly one of a kind.

Ahhh, I'm babbling.

My mom and I always were in the kitchen together. She LOVED to cook and she was a great cook. "Katie, grate this cheese and tell me about your day," and I did all the time. When I was younger it was almost every night. When I was older, it was once a week. "Come over, I'm going to teach you to make my spaghetti tonight." Lots of cooking and chatting and being in the kitchen together. Our family time (and by family I mean whoever was over at our house); always in the kitchen.

So, she wasn't in to possessions either. If you knew her, you're probably laughing at the vastness of this understatement. I have never met a woman less interested in material things than Peggy Cartier.

However, she LOVED her bowls. She collected them. They were on display above the cabinets. She cooked in them. She mixed in them. She served in them. She had lots and they were so pretty, but there was one that was my favorite. In fact, on the day we found out she had cancer, it was just her and I at home. I was washing that bowl, and she told me, and I dropped the bowl and broke it in two...and we both started crying. Because of the broken bowl, the cancer, the symbolism in the whole event. Oy vey, lots of drama. We glued it back together.

Today, I shattered that same bowl.


It's in way too many pieces to fix now and I am officially devastated. I mean, it is just a thing, a possession, but...is it? So many memories of family gatherings and my mom, in that bowl and now it's gone.

So, I shall wallow but a bit longer. I shall fully embrace my pity party...and in 10 minutes, I'll be fine because the logical part of me knows that it was just a ceramic bowl and the memories of my mom are still fully intact.

One of my favorite parts about me and something that I think helps keep me "healthy" is my ability to laugh at the ridiculous stuff that happens throughout the day. Often I'm laughing at someone else but I think it's completely justifiable because I do so much stupid shit every single day and I am CERTAIN that people are putting me other their friend's teams left and right as well.

So, at least 3 times a day I, either, think to myself or turn to someone else and say, "Did that just happen?" Sometimes there are cuss words in the middle of that sentence but the basic premise remains the same.

Example...true story.
I was in Wal-Mart. Stop there and remind yourself that ANYtime you need to a) feel better about yourself or b) laugh your ass off, go to Wal-Mart. So, I'm in Wal-Mart, with my friend, and I quietly (ok, I never talk quietly but I'm working on that) say, "Hmm, I wonder if Wal-Mart brand toilet paper is just as good as Charmin." Random woman comes up to us and says and I quote, "It is. It's the best. My husband gets hemorrhoids and they really help him. And when I have, you know (she points to her crotch) yeast infections, it's great. It doesn't leave anything behind but still gets you clean." My friend is, straight faced, looking at her. I look at my friend in the middle of this lunatic's story and then back at the woman and, through no fault of my own, start busting up laughing. Tears were streaming down my face as I thought, "Is this really effing happening?" And it was happening. It happened.

I was in a Subway, in the ghetto, across the street from my work and in walked a guy selling live turtles. He went up to each table and asked if they wanted to buy any turtles. "Did that just happen?" I said to Michelle. The best part was when I told my students about it the next day, the didn't flinch. "Yeah, Ms. Cartier, he goes in there a lot. I bought one from him once." My thought, "I'll have a roast beef sandwhich on wheat, red onions, green peppers and a baby turtle."

This is one of my, all-time, favorite sayings. I wish this for the people I love...that's you!

When I was crazed hormone raging teenager and my boyfriend had dumped my for the 15th time, that week, I was crying to my mom about him. "I don't know why he doesn't like me. He's perfect." My mom replied and said, "No, he's not perfect. You're giving him a halo effect and acting like there's absolutely nothing wrong with him and he's a dick sometimes." Ok, she said some other not nice words about him that I'll leave out. Gotta love moms right? Anyone hurts their kids and look out!

15 years later and I am finding that men fall into 2 categories when I'm done with them, Halo or Horns.



Examples:
There's a guy in my class who I think has a crush on me. He says my name, like, a hundred times a day. He fills up my water cup during the breaks, just because he notices its empty. He always compliments something about me, "Look at your big, green eyes." (Well, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe that's not a compliment. Maybe they freak him out). "You're really photogenic." "Wow, you look nice. You're all dressed up." All this niceness and all I can say is, "He picks his fingers. He bites his nails. He reached INSIDE of his shorts to adjust himself. INSIDE his shorts."
HORNS

Went on a date with a guy and here's what I said when I got home (ok, not all the way home, got into my car). "I felt like I was on a date with my dad. He showed me, no he literally SHOWED me what was in all of his bank accounts."
My friend, "Um, so how much was there?"
"Who cares! He told me I should shop at 2nd hand stores to save money and that I should make sure I pay off all my credit cards every month!"
"Um, you should."
"Shut up. I know. How do I know? Because that's what my dad says. He tells me all the time and I have to listen because he's my dad, but I don't have to listen to a dude tell me that on a first date."

I'm pretty sure I went on to give a very detailed list of everything wrong with Dad Dude from his clothes to what we discussed to what he ordered and on it went.
HORNS.

Other dude:
My friends are nauseous because I still mention him sometimes.
"Are we done here? That guy was a dick and he's still a dick."
"I know but he was so nice. We really connected. I loved being around him. He was so funny and when I was around him I wanted to be exactly where I was and I wanted it to last longer."
HALO

So, why do they all fall into these 2 categories? Where's the gray? Because if I really think about it, Dad Dude is a pretty nice guy, actually a really nice guy. And he noticed stuff about me and complimented me and was a gentleman. He's tried to connect with me multiple times, since then, and I keep shooting him down.

And if I really think about it and I don't even REALLY have to think about it, other guy was a DICK. No, not just your average run-of-the-mill dick, like, THE dick. And if I really think about it, I had to TEACH him how to kiss which I think you should have down by now. I don't know how subtlety I can say, "Slow down" before I just need to be like, "Please don't try and choke me with your tongue and this is not a race." And he was kinda racist which is, so not hot. And he always talked about himself. And he drinks, a lot. And he never complimented me, he actually insulted me on a regular basis. Awesome.

So, why do Dad Dude and Classmate get the, undeserved, Horns and King Dick gets the Halo? Why can't they be switched? Why can't I be in to Dad Dude? Why can't I be ok with the fact that Classmate chews loudly and always had his fingers in his mouth? Why does King Dick put butterflies in my stomach?

I mean, I'm not damaged goods. I don't have Daddy issues. I had a super normal childhood and pretty normal adulthood. So, where does this fuckupedness come from? And why does every guy need to fall in to one, of the 2, categories? Why can't I look at these situations, or non-situations, for what they were?

So, on the Journey to the Healthiest Version of Me, I shall try and clear all of the Halo and Horns categories out of my brain. Maybe I'll start seeing a Shrink; it looks like this journey is going to be quite a few steps miles.

I've had a few friends in the past few years talk to me about Crossfit. They said it's super hard-core and that I'd be a good fit for what they have to offer. So, when an old friend of mine told me to check out the open house they were having I summoned (bribed with Sugar-Free Rockstar) my friend, who's always down to get her ass kicked in the gym, and told him I'd go.

He said he'd take "special care of me," and I got scared. Scared as in immediate flashbacks of the restaurant we used to work in together. Scared as in flashbacks of me being slow to type in my orders on the computer, or slow to get his drinks for customers, or slow to seat him...and him ready to get me back for annoying him day in and day out through our college years. Though, I had committed and I know him and I knew it would be WAY scarier to NOT show up than to just go.

So, in the morning, Sarah and I headed to Crossfit. I got there first and the girl at the door was super nice...and nicely told me I was in the wrong place and gave me directions to the right place. So, now I was freaked out about working my ass (that hasn't been worked in weeks months) AND the fact that I was going to be late.

Fast-forward through Sarah and I on the phone, "Is it on Frank Loyd Wright? Where are you? I don't know where we're going," for the next 10 minutes. Fast forward to us walking in late to SCOTTS-FREAKIN-SDALE Cross-Fit. I make it a point to NEVER go to Scottsdale clubs because those people are just too hot for my blood, but apparently Sarah and I just walked in to where the Scottsdale kids hang out during the day, in this hot freakin' gym, in minimal clothing. All those hot, non-eating, beautiful Scottsdale girls. All those hot, non-eating, beautiful Scottsdale boys...and me, who eats and does NOT live in a gym.




Oh well, eff it. I'm here and now I have to show them I came to play. So, we stretch as a group. PS. I was hoping the Scottsdale girls would be bitches...no such luck. People opened up the circle to make sure we had room, they chatted with us, they smiled. UGH, annoying, hot AND nice.

After the stretching we separated into 2 groups. Bad asses, and my group. The Bad Asses were doing pull ups, and not just dudes either, girls too! My group was doing some sort of modified pull up on some rings and I was doing the modifidest (I made that word up) version. 3 sets of 10. Done and done.


Kettle bells were next. I was trying to do more than they told us all the while thinking to myself, "Maybe I should be in the advanced group. These people are moving a bit slow." Next up, wall ball. Same as before. Justin said, "Slow down. This isn't your workout." I thought, "I'm sure the work-out will be more of the same. Seriously, I'm awesome. I don't know why everyone says this is so hard."

And then the workout started..."So, you need to do 18 Kettle Bells, 21 Wall Balls, a 200 Meter run and you need to do all of it 3 times as fast as you can." Me, "WHAT-THE-F-U-C-K." Here's a quick, fun fact. Even though I was scared, I know how this shit works. Those gangster dudes who run these places HATE complaining and HATE quitting. How do I know this? Because I used to work out with some gangster dudes and they were the same. And my family doesn't do the bitching and moaning about hard work. So, I, inherently can be pretty gangster, when necessary, if I do say so myself.

So we go...and I do it. I Kettle Bell. I Wall Ball..and then we have to run and I feel like I AM GOING TO DIE...because I hate running (and when I said I was doing Couch to 5K, I did...for 2 days). People were zooming past me but I kept hearing, "Come on. You got this." So, I had it and I ran.

Ok, 1st set done. 2 more to go. I'll spare you every detail, but I finished and I felt like I was going to throw up. Now, I have thrown up while working out before but it was always because I ate too soon before I worked out. This was different. This was my body saying, "What the hell did you just do to me?!" The nice thing was that Sarah (who is WAY skinnier than me) also felt like she was going to throw up and that made me feel excellent.


Final Thoughts:
I love Crossfit. It's WAY more my style than Bikram Yoga (although I WOULD like to be more Zen). I need Crossfit to be cheaper, like $24 a month would be good.

I give full credit to http://www.littlemissmomma.com/ for coming up with this idea. I actually think her friend came up with it. Nonetheless. I heart it and I will steal it because I think that if I read someones blog on a regular basis, we're friends so she won't care. However, if you're bored of my blog, go and look at hers. She a professional (unlike myself and my ametuer (I can't get the red line to go away. That means I spelled that word so wrong that the computer can't even tell what I was trying to write. Oh well, I give up. am-eh-chure, in case you didn't know either) status) and funny and fun and has super cute crafty projects...but I digress.

Here are a few Awkward and Awesome (I've noticed that I just capitalize anything I feel "deserves" a capital letter, such as awkward and awesome, don't tell my students I don't follow the capitalization rules) things that keep me on track.

Let's start with Awkward...because it's more fun and I know all of you enjoy laughing at my mishaps.

Awkward Things that Keep Me on Track
Every morning I put the blowdryer under my chin so it blows all of my hair back and I feel like a supermodel for a few minutes...until I turn off the blowdryer. When I'm feel low, I do it for longer. How does it keep me on track? Because. When my face is fat I don't feel supermodely so I can't have that.


I do "the check" every morning as well. I used to check my stomach by sitting down to see if there were any rolls. I secretly likes the tiny skin rolls but if it rolled like there was fat, it was a bad day. Now, I'm older and not a size 5 so I already know what the answer will be if I do that check. I, instead, do the back check. How far do I have to bend to make a back roll? Is is there when I am just standing? BAD DAY. Do I have to really bend back? EXCELLENT DAY.


Can I feel my hip bones? I don't know why but I wasn't blessed with wide hips (ps. that might be another "awkward." I want big hips and I could care less if my booty gets bigger. Are you singing Sir-Mix-A-Lot right now too?) Anyway, if I'm about to got to sleep and can feel my hip bones well, I'm doing fine. If not, it's time to move my arse, er...hips. PS. I know this picture doesn't really fit but those ARE his hips and that IS all I watched when I saw Fight Club so I think it fits.


And a few Awesomes...
I LOVE cinnamon and I found these Cinnamon Almonds with, only, 1 gram of sugar per serving. I crush them and put them in my oatmeal. DELICIOUS!



I have to stay healthy because I don't excel at many things but I am a damn good aunt. You're not seeing the how being healthy equates to being a good aunt? Is it because I wanna live a healthy life and be able to run around with them? No, it's much more vain than that. I hate being in pictures with my niece and nephew when I am insecure and since I see them all the time, I have to keep it up. PS. I know that Lumberjack sweater isn't the girliest thing ever. I blame the mother of these perfect children because I said, "Bring me a sweater and that's what she gave me."




And there you have it. What are the awkward and awesome things that keep you on track?!?