twelvedaysold

2011.

2011-12-30T12:03:00.000-08:00

We've come to another year's end here at twelvedaysold, which was more sparse than last year. My life in general was more sparse, but sometimes I need those quiet years.

Those of you who have been around for a while or have been reading through my archives (I love you), last year ended kind of sucky, with 2010 becoming kind of a douche. I was a wee bit sad and stressed out.

After we found out about Jesse's diabetes last November, he immediately lost something like 40 pounds and now weighs less than me. On the plus side (bah!), all the happy pounds I've gained since we got married have rounded out my butt quite nicely. Whenever I'm around my mom for an extended (like my waistline) period of time she starts making everyone look at my butt and says, "Where did that come from? Why don't I have a butt?" Which always ends with my dad asking if we could please stop talking about my behind.

I went to jury duty, bought a bike, went on vacation, and purchased a video which became the best present ever for Jesse's birthday of a man dancing topless with "Happy b-day Jesse Bear" written on his stomach.

I told a lot of childhood stories, since I was a wee bit of a peculiar child, and I do a lot of embarrassing things. I was watching an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive and one woman, after cleaning up almost her whole house, said something along the lines of, "This is how I get to help people, by sharing my story. I don't know why it had to be hoarding, but by doing this I'm helping other people." I'm kind of like that, with making a fool of myself. It's okay if you do stupid things. There's humor in there somewhere.

I talked about the broshay, and the time I thought we were "that family" when my dad told me he drowned a racoon in our backyard. I admitted to thinking my overweight cocker spaniel was as fast as Superman, gagged while remembering the long-forgotten chocolate milk that exploded in my car, blushed while writing that I cut my eyebrows to look like Vanilla Ice's, and most recently I told you about when I was a kid and dropped trou in my bedroom and peed in a heater vent.

Cinnamon is doing well at the ripe age of 16 1/2 and doing well apparently requires sleeping a lot.

I did a good amount of knitting/crafting this year, including a lot of presents I never took photos of. I also got VERY MAD at knitting. Sometimes it's a love/hate thing.

I'm not a book worm, but I almost always have a book going. I kept a list this year, and 18 books in 12 months sounds pretty good to me, even though I was a lazy bugger all of November and didn't read once (I mean, I read labels and signs and stuff. I didn't avoid all printed words).

I got a little disappointed earlier this year as well, when I told my mom I was excited about turning 25 because I could be sold on Etsy as an antique. Then she told me an antique on Etsy only needs to be 20. There goes that joke, lame 25. What am I going to do with you now.

So, good friends, family, active readers and lurkers, I hope 2011 wasn't too hard on you, and here's to a totally awesome 2012.

Also, I don't like when soap looks like real food.

Signing off from 2011,

K-dawg

It's Christmastime! Everybody start crying.

2011-12-06T16:44:00.001-08:00

Some of you may know that Jesse and I get really into our Christmas cards. I'm usually the one to spark the fire, coming up with an idea mid-February, but Jesse is the one that really gets it going. I've only been blogging for a couple years, and I figured it might be a nice walk down memory lane to visit our old photographs. All four of them. Woah, I know, we don't have all day for four whole pictures, Katie.

The first year, we didn't have our photo taken. I wrote once on how Jesse didn't like the holidays until I forced them down his throat and he was filled with Christmas cheer, and you can read about that right here.

The next year, I decided I wanted a dorky picture of us wearing Santa hats in ugly sweaters (with Jesse wearing a mullet wig) taken at Sears, because I had a coupon. I made an appointment for the weekend. We sat there with about 1 million screaming children and parents waiting for their picture to be taken, and they were over 2 hours behind schedule. We decided to go home, me sweating with my jacket over my ugly sweater. We asked the same friend who took pictures during our wedding to snap a couple for us and gave him the cash instead.

I'm sure my fancy pants graphic design student husband is now cringing that he let me do that writing in MS Paint, but oddly, that was the effect I was going for. Also, Cinnamon sees into the future. And nice bookcase. Decorating is my something or other.

The other two I've posted before, but who doesn't like a little bit of redundancy of redundancy?

I know, CUT TO THE CHASE.

When Jesse was finished with the card, he emailed it to me, and I said, "Don't I look, you know, huge compared to you?" "No. It's perfect."

Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and winter holidays in general. Oh! If you want a copy of our picture sent to you, say ROCKET SHIP in your comment and I'll choose an extremely lucky winner. I'll count if even if it's not in caps, because I'm cool like that.

Peeter vent.

2011-11-22T12:56:00.001-08:00

I figure it's time to talk about me peeing in a heater vent. I've mentioned it a few times, but haven't told the story because I don't think it's that interesting anymore. But I have been telling it for a long time.

From what I remember, this particular not-so-shining-moment in my life came about around the age of 8. Something happened, however (namely extreme embarrassment and shame), and I didn't think about it again until I was 18. Enter: Ms. Larsen's English class.

Sometimes in Ms. Larsen's class we had to sit in the front and give a speech, and by speech I mean talk about whatever we wanted to for 5 minutes. During what I am sure was one of my many riveting speeches, I remembered this story out of the blue.

When I was 8, I got to move into my brother's old bedroom after he moved out. My mother may tell me that this is wrong and correct me, because I don't remember this very well. I actually don't remember much, if we're going to nitpick. The timeline adds up though.

Since you may be wondering this later, the bedroom was literally right next to the bathroom. There was a heater vent in the floor, and occasionally I would remove the vent and pull out the crap that had fallen in there. Hair clips, army men, those type of things.

One day I decided to pee in it.

I can't say for sure, but I do remember peeing in it a couple of times, perhaps multiple times that same day or over a couple of days. I suppose the number of offenses doesn't matter after the first one. An unknown amount of time later, my mother turned on the heater.

The house, of course, reeked of urine. Apparently after doing some investigating my dad asked me, "Did you pee in the heater vent?" and I said yes. He was so caught off guard that I did that, it being so bizarre and me so readily owning up to it, that I don't think I got in trouble.

(My sad little mind had changed the story over the years, and I thought I had blamed it on my sister's cat Sarah and that she wasn't allowed inside anymore. I figured I should add that since this is what I actually told my English class before I was corrected by my sister later when this was the only thing I talked about for 6 months.)

During the uproarious laughter in the classroom (which I'm sure is what was happening), someone asked me how old I was when this happened because I hadn't said it yet. Jokingly, I said, "16." Laughter, laughter. "Just kidding, I was like 8."

Lucky for me, NOBODY HEARD THAT LAST PART. Class was dismissed and people started saying things like, "You peed in a heater vent like two years ago??" "Hey Katie, we closed off all the heaters in the hall so you could come to the dance on Friday."

Anyway, here's a picture of me and my neice on Thanksgiving. I told her to put her hands in her lap and look awkward.

I'm thankful for Jesse, my friends and family, my job, crafting, Christmas, Legally Blonde, and that I'm not in prison. Also that I kicked that habit of peeing in heater vents, and that you read my blog to hear such bizarre childhood stories.

xxooXOxOOo,
Katie

I do not like the cone of shame.

2011-11-09T09:37:00.000-08:00

Cinnamon had a boo-boo.

I didn't mention the old man recently on the blog, because when it comes to summer time, Cinnamon only comes inside to eat. He is far too cool for his parents when it is sunny outside.

A couple Saturdays ago we came home and I saw something by his tail that I thought was a slug he had rolled on and squished. Does this happen to other people's pets? Perhaps it's an extra hairy cat/pacific northwest combination. We've had to grab two slugs off him before (though, not dead. Just caught in cat hair). (Then again I bet most people don't get slugs in their shower, either.) I tried to wipe it off so he could come inside and he FLIPPED OUT, making me think he was wounded, so I packed him up and took him to the vet.

Over the course of 45 minutes the wound became much, much worse as I watched in horror and I felt like the worst owner in the world. Cinnabutt had an abscess that had to be flushed out. (Insert collective "buhh.") Buhh.

Since I already felt like the worst pet owner in the world, it didn't help when later I had to buy him a cone and everything he did with that cone on was hilarious. He must have been doped up from his pain meds because he let me put that thing on without any hassle, purring the whole time with his big eyes on (his 'beetle eyes' as Susan calls them). Then he kept walking backwards and taking the most exaggerated steps while looking up at me, confused, adding a pathetic "meow."

Then he climbed on my chest and pushed the cone up against my cheek, purring. He seemed unsure as to why he couldn't reach my face so I put mine in front of his in the cone and he licked me, uncertain.

I took the cone off so he could eat (he tried to jump up, hit the side of his table, looked at me confused and meowed) and after that first night I was able to remove it and he hasn't been obsessively licking his freshly shaved butt, so everyone is happy. Including my credit card company.

In other news, I went to the Yarn Harlot's book signing:

"I write humor. I'm funny."

So what's new with you guys? Lots of stuff? Nothing? Neighbors shooting guns in their apartment? Go on.

"There's no crying at Disneyland." -- Jesse Bray

2011-10-20T08:24:00.000-07:00

I'm going to talk about something that we seem to think is untalkaboutable. That subject is:

For our second anniversary, Jesse and I decided to go to Disneyland. We were flying down on a Tuesday, going to Disneyland on Wednesday, and flying back Thursday. I especially liked how people asked, "Oh, you're going to Disneyland? For how many days?" "Just one." "You can't just go for one day." No one seemed interested in dropping an additional $148 for us to visit Disneyland for an extra day and pay for another night at a hotel, so we kept our original plans of a one day visit to Disneyland. We weren't worried since we didn't have kiddos that couldn't go on rides or we would have to sit out with, etc. We definitely knocked that place out in one day.

Flare those nostrils, Jesse! Unfortunately, I wore a skirt that day. I'm not a big skirt wearer and did not think about my sweaty thighs rubbing together and causing UTTER AND COMPLETE MISERY, and there was a point in front of the haunted mansion where I had to sit down for a second and have myself a little cry. But if I hadn't had painful red disgusting thighs that day, we wouldn't have spent $40 on sweatpants that have Minnie Mouse on them for me. I love you, Minnie Mouse sweatpants! After we bought those and I changed in a disgusting restroom, we continued to have a very nice time and I no longer had to worry about sitting unladylike.

Next up we have Comic Con which I talked about in nauseating detail last year.

Ugh, looking at this picture disgusts me. Jesse has lost like 40 pounds since he found out about his diabetes. JESSE. And your manly METABOLISM.

At one point in vacation time Jesse was saving seats for us in Hall H and I realize this may mean nothing to you, but that place is huge and my phone died when I was supposed to call him and see where he was. I walked around aimlessly for probably about half an hour and there were NO PAYPHONES ANYWHERE. I have never needed a payphone before, and suddenly I sorely missed it. I finally realized I needed to ask someone to use their cellphone. I shamefully walked around sizing people up to see who I should ask. I decided on asking one of the Sailor Moons if I could use hers, and called my husband. He told me where he was and I found him in Hall H and by the time I got to him I was a bit WEEPY, gosh Katie is such a GIRL, and Jesse got me nachos to make me feel better and this is literally a shot of me at the end of crying.

Post-crying Katie! So refreshed and nachoed!

Which brings us to this year when we were in Phoenix last month. YES THERE WERE TEARS, calm down, I'm not crying anymore. I vaguely mentioned that I had us walk in the wrong direction for approximately a mile while trying to get to the car rental place. The sad thing was, we took a bus, got off at the stop, walked a while, Jesse realized I had us going the wrong way, we turned around, and slowly I began to see that the bus had stopped us right in front of where we needed to be to get the car. In 103 degree heat after walking for some time, Katie had a wittle bit of a meltdown, which was so super sexy, you should have seen it. I was embarrassed and had a tiny bit of the heatstroke malfunctioning my inhibition unit which usually makes me refrain from crying. I stopped by the time we were inside but by then the waterworks of my sweat glands on my FACE were going for a good 45 minutes trying to both cool me off and dehydrate me at the same time. I guess I don't have a picture for this instance.

It's so nice not to have cactus on the mountain.

2011-10-03T19:37:00.000-07:00

The two week vacation of 2011 has come to an end. We had a great time in Arizona, and then a great time at home loafing last week. Well, I loafed. Jesse worked a few days while I sat at home and mod podged light switch plates and didn't shower. Good times, good times.

So here is an obnoxious journey through our vacation with pictures and my blathering commentary. I'm knocking this out in one post, so I apologize for the overabundance of photos and words, unless you just come here for the pictures and only look at those without reading the words on the screen. Those of you are way ahead of me.

My wonderful parents drove us to the airport at 4 am on Saturday, and on second thought I'm going to show you the emails my parents sent me after I told them the time we had to get to the airport. My mom had already volunteered them to drive us out there, and I offered to buy them donuts in return for the ride.

Dad said: "Mom was obviously just joking about taking you to the airport at 4:00 in the morning. She is such a jokester, that mom of yours! And your crack about buying us a couple of crummy doughnuts was pretty hilarious too." He then included links for public transit and local taxis. My mom quickly replied, "IGNORE him."

Also, I think my parents are a riot.

After a layover in San Francisco (we got cheap tickets, hence the layover. Unfortunately we bought those cheap tickets 5 months ago so by the time the flight actually happened they had changed the layover from 40 minutes to three hours. True story) we arrived in sunny Phoenix and Amy and Earl showed us around the town and stuffed our faces with delicious food.

Sunday morning we went couponing with them (you can see the haul here, and by the way, we have gotten into couponing and Jesse and I actually enjoy grocery shopping together. Just fyi) and then we all went to the GRAND CANYON! (Enter fireworks and a YEEEAAAHHHH!)

Before seeing the Canyon we were met by a tarantula, like, in the wild. I didn't even throw up on it or anything! But I did say, "So are one of you going to squish it, or..." and then I had to remind everyone what a kidder I am and how I was totally kidding. ("But really, no one's going to take care of that?")

The Grand Canyon was pretty spectacular, and to be honest, seemed fake. It was very quiet out there and I'm pretty sure I could see a guy touching up the backdrop on some scaffolding.

Then they took us the long way back to Phoenix through Sedona which was absolutely gorgeous, but we didn't get many good pictures of.

Monday morning we decided to have an adventure with public transit to get our rental car which included me (that loser) making us walk for about a mile in 103 degree weather (but it's a dry heat!) and me being so embarrassingly sweaty that as I was standing at the counter and had my forearm resting on it, I left a pool of sweat that I tried to casually wipe away. Phoenix + Katie = Super Sexy.

After getting the car and hotel all checked into (and setting the temperature in the hotel room to a balmy 65 degrees for the duration of our stay) we went out to lunch with Jesse's cousin Daniel.

I have no pictures of this. But Daniel is very buff and manly looking, what with being an ex-marine, and I have pictures of him later when we grabbed coffee, just hold your horses.

Tuesday we trekked to Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home, which was pretty interesting, however NOT priced correctly with their website. In case you were going there and expecting Tuesdays to be considerably cheaper. And look! Pictures!

This was probably the most sweaty part of our trip since we had to spend so much time outside. When we finally got into a room for a while, the guide talked about how normally that room is quite comfortable, but the A/C had gone out. She kept looking at me and saying, "We'll be going to an air conditioned room soon" even though there were probably 20 more people to look at but I was the only one with sweat dripping down my hair onto my shirt while my bangs were matted to my forehead.

The tour was cool, and Frank Lloyd Wright had some interesting ideas. His work with acoustics was pretty amazing, so if you're interested in architecture I definitely think the Taliesen West is well worth the visit.

Wednesday we decided to head out to Tombstone, which neither of us knew was in Arizona until Amy and Earl were telling us places to visit a couple days before.

My boobs in real time, Tombstone, AZ.

Tombstone was interesting, but I will say it left a little to be desired. We probably walked past close to 20 gift shops and we were both admittedly expecting to be wowed and have a little bit more of an experience, almost like a theme park. That may sound ridiculous but I feel the need to inform others who read my blog and are thinking of visiting Tombstone, which is like everyone, right? We also went on a quiet Wednesday, and maybe it's a little more hoppin' on the weekends. That aside, we visited the Rose Tree Museum which had some great history, not to mention the freak rose tree in the back that was pretty spectacular. We then went through the mines, where I got to wear a hard hat! Well, everyone did.

Then we hung out with a dinosaur that we had seen at a McDonalds on our drive to Tombstone. There was also a giant grasshopper.

Next up we went to Cracker Barrel where I did something I've always wanted to do.

I saw the people next to us hardly ate their appetizer. So when they left, I...well, I ate some of it.

Oh, also, we pumped our own gas, which I was unreasonably happy to do. In case you don't know this, Oregonians do not pump their own gas. We have gas station attendants, and yes, I love it. It rains a lot here. But I do enjoy doing it myself when I'm on a trip. Actually, the first time I left the state by myself I forgot that I had to pump my own gas and thought the guy sitting in the station was just being a jerk. I sat in the car so long while we stared at each other and I thought he was going to come out that I drove away to another station when my friend realized we were in Washington and I was too embarrassed to stay there. I just drove away.

Anyway, on Thursday we had a lazy day where we actually did some laundry at the hotel. We are normally light packers and we realized that we didn't have enough summer clothes anyway, so we just washed them there. Then we went in search of a comic book shop for Jesse and a yarn store for me, and Jesse fell in love.

He even contemplated buying a $10 box of comics to then turn into carry on, thereby making it a $35 box of comic books, and that my friends did not happen. He got a giant Mongol figurine, and I am again talking about superheros and super villains as though I have any idea what is going on. At the yarn store I purchased some yarn for a table runner (that yarn is crazy town, I'll show it to you when it's finished).

Friday we went to a restaurant called Centurion for our 4th visit that week. That place was bananas, and you should go there if you are visiting Phoenix. The chef is a crazy nice guy and he will serve you a great meal. Amy blogs about that place all the time, and she is not lying about how great it is. Fabius the centurion was out front, which of course we loved.

Friday afternoon we went to the Phoenix Art Museum where we immediately got in trouble for taking a picture of something we shouldn't (I was mimicking a nude statue) (I was clothed, btw) but the guy was very nice and told us what to look for if we couldn't take a photo. That place was HUGE. Definitely a good pick if you normally like art museums and galleries in general.

Then we went to Dutch Bros where Daniel works and got some coffee before we went to the Diamondbacks game. Enjoy the nice clear shots of his face.

Chase Field was pretty cool, especially when I got to watch the top open up. I felt a little bad for my dad when the Giants lost (his favorite team), but it was pretty great game. Says the person who doesn't know anything about sports.

Amy and Earl are pros about hiding from the camera. I barely got this picture.

The next morning we had some delicious breakfast and then started our 11 hour journey from airport to airport and plane to plane. The way back was supposed to be an hour and a half layover that became 4 hours. Another true story of woe and sadness including having to spend almost TEN DOLLARS on the smallest bottle of Aleve in an airport.

It was a pretty great trip. We were more than happy to be greeted with rain last week after having such a warm vacation in Phoenix. Oh, and!

We rented a Fiat, which we did not know would be a Fiat, because we were told repeatedly it would be a Chevy Aveo (been there, done that, would you like to buy some other useless thing while you're here at the car rental place and there are more taxes to that than when you got your reservation and I have a bigger car for you to rent for only bla bla bla more and I don't listen and meeee mee MEEEEE). Anyway. I am so over car rental places. But everyone (everyone) loved our Fiat, which we had never heard of, being the car fanatics that we are.

That is the story of vacation tales and lazy days. To all of those people who notice that I regularly comment on your blog and that I have been very, very absent, my google reader is a scary place right now and it will take me some time, but have no fear of long sentences, I am coming to comment! It'll just take me a while. Thank you for tuning in to the latest episode of twelvedaysold, and don't forget to wear sunscreen.

"What do you expect, mother? I'm half machine!"

2011-09-21T08:58:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I'm rather impressed by your sentences including the word ductility. I had actually just meant that I wanted you to paste the word in there somewhere but I enjoyed my miscommunication much more.

I realized I have four cards left and I hate having leftover postcards after a vacation (what are you supposed to do with them, you know?). So I either contacted everyone for their addresses or I already have it (not creepy). I just need yours, Sub Radar Mike! Because it's always fun getting mail from strangers. It's just how my parents raised me. Duff, Joann and JoAnn were the other lucky weiners!

Today we are off to Tombstone! Which apparently means touring an old brothel. Don't worry, I'll bring hand sanitizer.

But it's a dry heat!

2011-09-20T17:32:00.001-07:00

We are currently in Phoenix, AZ. It's been really nice and fun even when my bangs were sticking to my forehead like a toddler at Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home. Amy and Earl were wonderful enough to let us stay at their place for a couple nights but now we're at a hotel where we can poop with the door open just like old times at home. I'm typing this on a small iPod screen which is driving me a little batty so I'm going to cut to the chase. I have three extra postcards for my followers since I bought a preset amount that I had come up with before I left my postcard list at home and since I can't remember everyone on it I'm just going to send some to followers instead because I already bought the stamps.

To be eligible please put the word ductility in your comment.

I'm blue, if I were green I would die, if I were green I would die

2011-09-12T11:02:00.000-07:00

With summer vacation finished here in Oregon, I was reminiscing about how I would get all anxious before school started each year. Primarily, middle school. I would be all excited because I would have new clothes and get to see my friends again, but middle school is a dog eat dog world.

I was also a little strange which never helped matters. Let's take a look.

1.) In middle school I saw a picture of Vanilla Ice, which should have been my first sign because Vanilla Ice hadn't been popular in ages, but I loved the little cuts he had in his eyebrows. I'm already getting embarrassed.

Oh, the shame. I cut two little spaces in my eyebrows. This directly led to my discovery of eyebrow pencils, since I couldn't handle making up terrible lies to my friends about why I had cut my eyebrows, because - shocker - none of them thought it was cool.

2.) One night I put this little clear round thing over a zit I had on my forehead. I can't remember what it was called, but you put it on a zit and when you removed it the next morning it was supposed to look better. All I know is the next day, mid morning, my friend said, "What is THAT?" and I was filled with self-loathing as I peeled it off my face in front of my friends in the hallway.

2.5) I was home-schooled for about a year and a half in elementary school, and I'm trying to remember if I got as excited before a school year. I don't remember much about being home-schooled except I once got constipated, and after drinking a bunch of prune juice I still had to work on schoolwork. Thanks, Mom.

Oh, and just for fun, here's a picture of me shortly after I learned how to pluck my eyebrows:

FUN FACT, this was taken in 8th grade and has the year 2000 written on the back of it, which is the year Jesse graduated from high school. He used to say, "I wish we could have met when we were younger, in high school." To which I have said, "You would have been that creepy senior dating an 8th grader."

One more obnoxious comment, I have frogs on my shirt as well as on that hemp necklace I made. I'm sure all of you remember I also wore a hemp necklace I made in my 6th grade picture that I have posted here. Crafty like ice is cold.

I tried to look up things that were popular in the year 2000 but I couldn't find a good list and I didn't try that hard. However, Blue (Da ba dee) was a top 40 hit and Creed still had some songs up there. Thank goodness that madness is over and now we have Kesha and people who put Lil in from of their name, which I do not understand. This is really for my friend Brittney, do you remember listening to this song about 700 times at the skating rink in middle school? Good times, GHETTO SUPERSTAR TIMES.

P.S. Don't you hate it when people post a youtube video and you have to click the link to see it so you know you'll never watch it?

Peace out,

Lil K

When the receptionist met the janitor.

2011-08-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

Four years ago today I was scrambling to write a few lines of vows on the way to my wedding. I remember there was something in there about how I felt like I could be myself around Jesse, my then fiance.

I also remember finding out on our honeymoon that the reason so many people were honking at us in our decked out car was because someone wrote "Honk if you're straight" on the back of it. Surprisingly? There are a lot of straight people out on the road.

After less than a week of dating Jesse I called my sister up and told her I was going to marry this guy that I hadn't even said I love you to yet, and her... well. Thinking I was insane.

Jesse and I met when I was 18 through a mutual friend at church. If you would have told us we would get married I would have laughed in your face and I'm pretty sure Jesse would have disappeared. So, we knew who each other were, and after time both of us attended different churches and over a year passed without us seeing each other.

Three and a half months before our wedding, Jesse was playing with his friends in a band at a coffee shop, and my friend Jennaand I decided to meet up there. As stated, it had been over a year since I had seen Jesse and he nearly accosted me when I got there and wanted to hang out with me so bad. I didn't really understand since I figured he thought I was obnoxious (which was true, but who could stay away from this?) (apparently a lot of people). It would be another week or so of hanging out amongst friends before Jesse tricked me into getting "ice cream for everyone" which meant "let's get ice cream and then park the car for two hours and talk". And, indeed, that is where we had The Talk.

The Talk was stopped abruptly when a policeman came up to the window and asked how we were doing. He said that two girls had gotten off their shift at Subway something like 45 minutes prior but saw Jesse's creepy truck with the camper on it across the parking lot and were afraid to leave so they called the cops. Katie and Jesse, harassing Subway employees since 2007.

And what splendid harassment it has been. I have never doubted for a moment our decision to get married. Wait. There was that time I found chunky (and decidedly NOT creamy) peanut butter in the pantry. Turned out I was the one who accidentally bought it, and I was resolute once again that Jesse and I were a perfect match.

So, toots, thanks for killing spiders for me and telling me I'm pretty and that you're sure no one noticed the booger hanging out of my nose the entire time I was out. Here's to another four years of going "No, YOU'RE cuter!" and making my parents gag.

Why is there yogurt in this hat?

2011-08-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

Let's go back to the time when I had raccoons living under my mobile home as a teenager.

I was about 17, still driving Ford Escort #1, and I was leaving my sister Christy's house late one night after what I am sure was a riveting evening of playing Crash Bandicoot. Immediately after getting into my car, I smelled something rancid. There were some kids playing outside and since my windows had been rolled down I wondered if maybe they had thrown something dead into my car to mess with me. I didn't want them to have the satisfaction of seeing me freak out (spoiler alert, they did not put anything in my car), so I stopped around the corner, and pulled the driver's seat forward. And then, AND THEN, I remembered.

Weeks earlier I had purchased a bottle of chocolate milk and didn't finish all of it. I threw it behind the driver's seat. Before long... well. Time makes fools of us all.

Apparently the mystical chocolate milk gasses had built up and blown the cap from the top of the bottle. There was this thick, horrifying brown sludge-like mess on my back window and it had covered the floor of the driver's side back seat.

Here's where the story kind of fizzles out, with me gagging while scraping out the mire that once was chocolate milk, meanwhile trying to avoid the giant raccoon that lived under my neighbor's house.

So here's a video that my dad, Mark, made. Oh calm down, it's only 33 seconds.

"You know that I'm not allowed to wear hoop earrings, right? Two years ago she told me hoops earrings were her thing and I wasn't allowed to wear them anymore. And then for Hannakuh my parents got me this pair of really expensive white gold hoops and I had to pretend like I didn't even like them and... it was so sad."

2011-08-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

I have a problem with my earrings. I've tried a lot of things to keep them in order, but I have hated every single version. When I first got my ears pierced at 16 (I know, scandalous), I strung a piece of hemp above my door and would hang my manageable collection of earrings on it each night. Which is shocking, because this is what the rest of my room looked like.

I KNOW RIGHT

I'm more embarrassed to put those pictures up than I thought I would be. Did anyone notice the totally-not-out-of-date-in-2003 lava lamp splayed on the bed? Me neither. (In regards to the mess on the bed that I am SHOCKED I SLEPT IN, I think I was cleaning that day and decided to take pictures of how horrifying I was. I used to put as much of my stuff as I could on the bed and then go through each item one by one without putting it anywhere if it didn't have a spot. I know, in theory it's a really great idea because I should have found a bunch of stuff to get rid of, but I always started cleaning like this around 11:30pm and by midnight I would shove it all onto the floor because I needed to go to sleep. Back to the earring thing.)

As I collected more earrings, I bought and/or made multiple variations of earring holders, kind of like this one:

Source: kojodesigns.blogspot.com via Ashley on Pinterest

Except mine never looked that tidy. Or maybe it did because every time I touched it all the earrings would fall off. Has anyone else had this problem? I feel that maybe we just don't talk about it.

I thought I would do an experiment and buy something new to hold my earrings. The technique to putting them away is similar to what I do now, which is drop them on the coffee table, but I will try and aim for one of these little egg cubbies.

Cute, right?

But first I thought I would go around the house and see where I found my earrings, and I am less embarrassed than I thought I would be to post these after posting pictures of my teenage bedroom.

This next one is a planter (planter? Is that the right word? Obviously I do a lot of planting) that I filled with my jewelry which was a stellar idea. It got knocked over and rolled under the bed (also, the marks inside of it are from it being filled with pens previously. Again, with the planting).

Which leads to:

And I am in love. Jesse is too because he would constantly be picking up my earrings and going, "If you had a place to put these I would put them away while I'm picking up." Obviously he doesn't pay attention because I already HAD a place under the bed, but anything to make his life easier.

Did anyone notice the Larry Boy earring?

One time during an assembly in high school I noticed this plunger looking thing sticking out of the wall, and Amy was sitting in front of me. I leaned forward in that wood seat, pointed and said, "Larry Boy got stuck in the wall." She started giggling which made me giggle and while leaning forward like that and pushing down on my abdomen in a laugh, I farted and the sound cascaded through that auditorium.

Present #1: Happy birthday, Jesse bear!

2011-07-28T00:18:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday, Jesse!

This is what I was uploading last weekend that was bogging down our internet.

That saucy little look at the camera the last couple seconds is just for you, baby.

Preeeetty sure this is the best five dollars I've ever spent.

Now get back to opening the rest of your presents, handsome man. Well, present, but there's more in store today!

(For all the non-birthday attendants who are obviously wondering how to get a hold of this guy, here's DancingDror's page to buy your own 30 second inexplicable dance with whatever you want him to write on his stomach for $5. He'll let you choose the song, but I told him to just do "whatever feels right". MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.)

Faster than a speeding dog, more powerful than a high kick to the face, it's...

2011-07-14T16:33:00.000-07:00

I got some new photos of myself taken recently. I thought I would share them with you.

Ugh, I look fat, don't I? I hung these up by my mirror as motivation to not let myself look like that ever again.

Summer has arrived in Portland! The sun is shining, the tank is clean--THE TANK IS CLEAN. I actually came to tell you a story of my childhood.

When I was a kid I thought that since I was able to run as fast as my dog, Auggie, that I was as fast as Superman. There is that scene in the first Superman movie where he is running next to a train, right? And we watched that movie a couple years ago when we were snowed in during Christmas and those movies are terrible.

All.
Four.
Of.
Them.

Except if Jesse is reading this, then oh honey. I love those movies so much, kind of.

Anyway, I thought that OF COURSE my overweight cocker spaniel was just as fast as Superman, because everyone knows dogs have super speed. And since I could run as fast as Auggie, logically, I was as fast as Superman.

Then again, I was also the kid who peed in a heater vent.

Superdog:

He looks sad there, doesn't he? I know it's hard carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Superdog. Don't let it get you down.

I also thought that I could do a majorly awesome high kick, and attempted so in the kitchen when I was 8. I leaned so far over during my "kick" that I kneed myself square in the nose and sneezed for half an hour. One second I thought I was doing a ballin' high kick. The next I realized I'd kneed myself in the face, and either I was really glad that no one saw it take place or my poor mind has blocked out if anyone else was there.

P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

2011-06-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

I sold those dishes! And no I didn't spend some of the money on fast food. Please. (Jack in the Box.)

I'm also working on a truly hideous scarf that I kept trying to tell myself I liked because I'm gaudy, and then as I was knitting I came across a big patch of yarn that had maple syrup on it and realized I HATED THAT SCARF. I tried to wash it off and then I put it in a bag so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. ANY. MORE.

But really, I think I like it a lot because that thing is ugly.

Oh man, I was just reminded of the time when there were raccoons fighting outside of my bedroom in high school. I woke up in a cold sweat and heard this horrible hissing and barking outside and was convinced there were rabid dogs near my window. When I looked out I saw two raccoons hissing and snarling at each other and suddenly? My image of cute little raccoons was ruined forever.

Those stupid raccoons were destructive. And I just realized maybe I shouldn't tell the story I was actually going to tell. No, I will. The raccoons were a problem, getting under everyone's mobile homes and having babies under the floor and eating all of Cinnamon's food and washing their creepy human looking fingers in his water every night. So my dad got a permit and a trap from Fish and Wildlife to catch them, and they said feel free to trap and kill them because they were a problem.

During that time I was on my way home from a choir trip and called to check in. I don't remember how he got around to it, but my dad said he had killed a raccoon. Even though we didn't own guns I think I asked if he shot it. When he said no, I asked if he broke its neck. "Broke its neck? I'm not sticking my arm in there with a hissing raccoon. I drowned it."

WHAAAT IS THIS

And my dad proceeded to say that he put cinder blocks together and stuck a tarp in it, essentially making an above ground pool, if you will. He filled it with water and put the cage, raccoon included, into it. Dad just emailed me. I am supposed to call this the Pit of Death.

THE RING OF FIRE

But isn't it saying something about how manly I think my dad is that I thought he broke a raccoon's neck? I have this totally butch image of my dad. In my head he is the epitome of manliness, riding a tyrannosaurus rex through the burning wasteland. You know, punching sharks and stuff. There are sharks on land in this terrifying future.

Really he just likes to play puzzles and doesn't actually enjoy being the designated raccoon killer of the family.

Um, anyway, Jesse and I went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium last weekend. Sharkbait, hoo ha ha.

I sent my parents an email about the raccoon story to get their feedback. While my dad wrote, "be sure to accurately describe the Pit of Death," my mother said, "I was not involved. I thought the whole idea was madness." Those two sentences regarding the same story describe my parents perfectly.

They tryin' to catch me ridin' DIRTAY. And Cinnamon does not like getting on a bike.

2011-06-09T21:20:00.000-07:00

I'd like you to meet....

Princess Peach.

Don't worry, Cinnamon gave me a nice scratch on my neck for these ones.

For those of you interested in how I earned the money to buy a bike (which none of you asked, but here I am still typing) here is a breakdown. You may notice I did not make any money by way of illegal activity, because I hear that involves a lot of standing on street corners and it's been raining a lot.

I'm part of a few survey sites, and was very diligent in taking all of those stupid surveys. Late into many a night* was spent marking the correct box. Female, 18-24, White/Caucasian, REPEAT AD NAUSEUM.

*No later than 8:30 pm. I got things to do, son.

Survey site #1: $30
Survey site #2: $25
Survey site #3: $50
Selling a video camera on Craigslist: $50
Wiper refund: $5
Mystery shopping (it's a mystery indeed!): $75
Interest in my fat bank account: $1.42
Pennies that were in a bank shaped like a crayon: $5.58
Jury duty: $15.80

Tidbit #1: This is the crayon bank I was filling with pennies:

I am sure Jesse is ecstatic about me posting that picture.

I only got to about the C in crayon. Tidbit #1.5, I had a spreadsheet that listed where all the money came from in my bike fund and was copying the information over here. Instead of pennies, it said penis. Awkward, frown-filled moment with myself, there.

Tidbit #2: I ended up receiving TWO rebate checks for the wiper refund, but Jesse made me be a good person and I only cashed one. I'm bitter and all, but I guess he's right that I don't feel guilt about cashing that extra five bucks. (If they send more I'm not telling him.)

Tidbit #3: If you want to know the survey sites I use, don't be afraid to ask! Because for just six easy payments of -- wait, that's my Botox pitch. I'm getting confused.

I bought that bike and knew that it would be a possibility that I would have to ride it home from the shop if it didn't fit into the ample backside of Evan, our VW Beetle.

If you've seen a VW Beetle you know that was a wonderful pipe dream, and that I would be riding it home from the bike shop. Four and a half miles. No big deal, right?

Well, sure, no big deal if you're used to riding a bike for 4 1/2 miles, of course. Because my minor asthma was all YEAH LIKE THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN and Jesse ended up riding it the last three miles home.

There's a pretty rough hill on the ride home (through a nearby trail) and Jesse had to endure stares from others as he rode a girl's bike and then quit halfway through to walk. Have I mentioned how great he is? He didn't bat an eye as I came to a stop by the car and he said, "Get on in, I'll ride it the rest of the way."

Tidbit #M: I finished those mittens I referenced in the last post, and here's a picture. However, all the photos of these mittens about made me pee myself, so if you'd like to view all the shots, here's a link to the Picasa album. Also, here's the link to all the bike photos if you like to really stalk people like I do.

Joey: Here's a little tip, she really likes it when you rub her neck in the same spot over and over and over again until it starts to get a little red.

2011-05-27T17:58:00.000-07:00

Calm down, I'm here.

Things have been blissfully uneventful, and sometimes that's just what I need. I need the steady pace of a cat meowing outside my door at four in the morning and a husband that stays cute and draws things. (Here's a link to his blog with some new designs he's done, go check it out!)

I've made/fixed up a couple things, so here are pictures:

TABLE RUNNER

CAT TREATS LID

I put glitter on the cat treats lid, and was trying to find a good angle to showcase the glitter when someone in the background didn't like that I was just holding the jar and not getting down to business.

KEY RING

In other boring, grown up news, 2011 is becoming THE YEAR THAT SUNSHINE FORGOT. Us Portlanders have stopped complaining about the crummy weather and just started shaking our fists and then hanging our heads in despair. I'm knitting mittens, for crying out loud. It's almost June. I've been reading all these Australian blogs and am starting to feel like maybe we're on the other side of the equator. I'll be spending my Memorial Day weekend nesting and finishing good books. I should be nesting and finishing good books and saying, "We really should be outside."

This summer is going to be eventful though, with SOCK SUMMIT in July (w00t!) and then a super secret vacation to go and see my friend Amy.

Also, if you're going to Sock Summit, let me know! I'll be there Saturday July 30th (a mere two days after my man turns 29 and after 48 hours of me going "I'm only 24, neener!"). I'd love to meet up (or ruthlessly avoid, BE HONEST) and I can give you some pointers about things in the Portland area. And by "pointers" I mean I'm going to tell you the worst way to get somewhere and then when you're hopelessly lost on public transit and you send me a desperate text message, I'll only reply "?".

Anyone need a set of dishes?

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?" "I think you can in Europe."

2011-04-10T21:50:00.000-07:00

Me: Are you ready to go?
Jesse: Yes.
Me: Where are your shoes?
Jesse: Hey, you're the one knitting by the front door. Like a crazy person.

This crazy person has been finishing a lot of projects recently, including a new pair of fingerless gloves for Jesse.

Oh, and peoples be asking me 'cuz they curious about my bike fund affairs and, no. No one has wanted those dishes that I put up on Craigslist. This is definitely the longest I have ever put something on Craiglist without giving up. Usually after the first day I've lost all hope and change the listing to free so it gets out of our house. I once put up a dress for $30 and two days later I made it $5. Patience is my something or other.

And here? Is my prom picture with my friend Alex and my feet. I mentioned it in this post.

I was wearing these strappy shoes that made me taller than Alex, so I asked him if he wanted me to take them off for the photo. He said he didn't care. And I, for some reason unknown to me, thought my feet wouldn't show up in the picture anyway.

I think I've built up the whole foot thing, because it really wasn't a big deal, but who, really, who is barefoot in a prom picture? Here's a quote from Susan about the whole foot thing. "Your feet don't look funny, they look ugly. Which is much worse. And it's weird because you normally have nice looking feet."

REEE REEE REEE

6y

That 6y was brought to you by your favorite online fluffball, Cinnamon. Here is an old photo of him when he was just a wee boy. And when I was just a wee girl and my photography skills were bangin'.

No, I'm serious, I actually won a camera because of a picture I took in first grade. There were two categories to win from, one of which I don't remember and then one that was like "pensive". I had no idea what that meant, so I submitted a picture I took at the beach. I didn't win the pensive category, but wouldn't that have been a much more interesting story?

Here's a pensive one for you.

Shoot. I guess I was going for thoughtful.

Baby, when I met you for the first time I knew. We were meant to be as oooooone.

2011-03-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

Jesse said he'll always remember the fateful day we met. Love at first sight, he says. He knew he would be adopting me and giving me my "forever home".

And it looks like I was on sale.

You know, it's my behavior in pictures like this that made my mother hate it when my dad and I were together in public. Something about being immature. Or something. Waa waaaa.

I'm still saving up my pennies to buy a bike, but I want you to know that that cute husband of mine totally tried to get me to buy a bike online with a CREDIT CARD. I know, right?! This guy!

Annie, who is a dedicated follower, yet I have never mentioned her before because I'm a horrible person, sent me this beauty.

Not like, sent me a bike, but sent me a link. It's the thought that counts, really. I mean, look at it. My gosh, it's gorgeous.

An old friend from high school is now following me, and his name is Alex. Alex and I went to his junior prom together, where he very romantically said something like, "I need a date to prom. Can you come?" I'm going to find the picture from that prom and post it, and Susan is already giggling because my feet look funny in that picture. Actually, I just realized that my date to my senior prom was equally as wooed by me as I was wooed by Alex when I said to him, "Sean, I need someone taller than me to be my date to prom. Want to be my date?" A way with words, we have.

And a pretty girl named Megan is following me. I do not know anything about her. So let's make something up. Megan is from Idaho, yet she's been spending the last three years in Paraguay finding herself. She had a short romantic interest in handsome Andrès, a doctor. Things fizzled out towards the end, what with him being a busy doctor and her teaching children English. But recently she found Louis, a Scottish biologist who was spending a vacation in Paraguay after grad school. He just went back to Scotland, and Megan is trying to get back in the states so she can get things arranged to move out to the UK. Because, guess what? Even though they only knew each other three weeks, they're engaged! Oh it's so exciting. The lives my followers lead.

They see me rollin', they hatin'.

2011-03-10T12:09:00.000-08:00

I have a new follower! Katie at The Philosphy of KLo. Except my name is already Katie, so I'm going to call her something else. Like Shannon. Welcome, Shannon!

I definitely don't have anything exciting to share, so I will talk to you about how I want a new bike.

"Shocks, pegs...lucky!"

Why don't they make adult bikes with a banana seat?

I'm actually looking for something more like this because I'm a boring grown up:

Except in some gaudy, hideous color because that's what I like. What I'm really here to talk about though, is how I feel like a kid because I'm saving up for a bike. Do you know how long it's been since I saved up for something? We're staying away from using credit cards because I'm planning a gargantuan road trip later this year and don't care for that looming thing known as a credit card payment. Thorn in my side.

I've been saving up whatever outside money I can (not dipping into our weekly budget) for my sweet new ride, including a $15 check from Washington county for my jury duty service. I'm still waiting for a rebate check from my windshield wipers. If that last sentence doesn't sound like the epitome of what every teenager never wants to talk about when they become an adult, then I just don't know what does.

I'm also doing something I loathe, which is selling things on Craigslist. Or, more accurately, putting things on Craigslist and nobody buying them. I'm not selling my garbage or anything, it's just becoming painfully obvious that me (the seller) and Craigslist viewers (the buyer) have something in common: neither of us want those dishes.

Here is a photo of my large head and my unnecessary urge to smile as large as I can in photos. Oh, and Jesse.

Oh, right, JESSE! For those of you interested, a while back we found out Jesse has type 2 diabetes, and we went in for his follow up blood test two days ago. His blood sugars are reeeally close to pre-diabetic levels! This is really great news. And, we have not spent any quality time with Jillian Michaels lately, either. That means we've been terrible about exercising. Just imagine what he could accomplish with his blood sugars if we actually started exercising. He could be a hero. He could go from diabetic to SUPER HUMAN. Or maybe just a fit guy.

Stay classy,

Katie Westside

Justice is blind.

2011-02-28T16:45:00.000-08:00

Veterinarian: Justice is fine.
Michael : Great.
Veterinarian: Although, dressing him up like a seeing eye dog seems a bit cruel.
Michael: Cruel?
Veterinarian: Well, yeah because he can't see.
Michael: What are you talking about?
Veterinarian: Mr. Bluth... Justice is blind.

The last time I went to jury duty, I got interviewed for a jury. They were asking all these questions and then they'd look at their sheet and be like "Mmmmm, Mister So-and-so? How do you feel about that?" and I would go, oh crap, I gotta pay attention, I have NO IDEA what they just asked. And then a minute later I'd hear them ask another juror what they thought and then repeat my last reaction. It was a fun morning.

Then we got released for a long lunch which helped me a lot seeing as I didn't live on that side of town. But my eye had been killing me all morning. So I went out to Ford Escort #2, pulled out my contact and saw a huge rip in it. For those not contact savvy, that means the contact had an early death.

Now, this may surprise some of you, but I have horrible vision. Jesse likes to play the game "Can Katie See My Expression" if I'm not wearing glasses or contacts. Or, more funly "Can Katie Read That Giant Sign With The Huge Letters What's Wrong With Her She Is Lame". So going with one contact the rest of the afternoon was exciting to say the least. Oh, and they didn't choose me for the jury. But I will always remember (I hate when people say that, "I will always remember ____". And here I am) the look on the lady's face in the front row of potential jurors. They started releasing jurors they didn't want, from left to right, front to back row. They let everybody but one woman out of the front row and I remember when they got to about the third row, she looked back and realized they were letting people go systematically and that she had been selected. Oh, that look of horror on her face. It was beautiful.

Anyway, I was sent home again last Friday and I got a lot of reading done. Oh, BUT KNITTING NEEDLES WEREN'T ALLOWED! I know, right? I wasn't sure about crochet hooks, but my crochet chops aren't up to making anything more than those flower fridgies I made a while ago. Have I been all over the place with this post? Sorry.

I have no new pictures to show you, so I will post one of my favorite pictures ever. It's from the World Beard and Mustache Championships, and I want to have an 8x10 print of it made and framed for my house. More details later.

"Get rid of the Seaward." "I'll leave when I'm good and ready."

2011-02-23T18:02:00.000-08:00

I love that after my last post where I wrote the word "broshay" that people in the comments changed it to "brochay", with a c.

Enter soap box.

The letter C is a useless letter. Hear me out. It does nothing S and K can't handle. Am I right or am I right? S does not make a hard K sound. K does not make a slithery S sound. Why must C be that way, confusing us with its alphabet wiles? Konfusing us. Komments. Selery. Selebrate. I fear this is a problem with no answer, which saddens me.

I am saddened.

Anyway, I have jury duty on Friday.

Which doesn't help the sadness.

There is a book I'm dying to finish and fingerless gloves Jesse is impatiently waiting for me to knit. Perhaps I'll get some quality personal time in at the good old Washington County while fulfilling my civic duty. Unlike Dawn in Austin, who I know is very angry I have jury duty when she is just dying to get called in.

Also, very exciting news at House of Twelvedaysold. Stalker Angie over at I Stalk Knitters is following me! Which I love because I stalk Stalker Angie. It's a perfect match. Or maybe a self destructive one that will end in a restraining order.

Stay cool while I am off delivering justice.

The broshay.

2011-02-16T18:57:00.000-08:00

The mystery follower incident has been solved. It appears Jenna had to create another account to add me to her google reader, making her like the number 6 follower and also number 41. Let us not forget that I follow my own blog as well.

The Furry Godmother also started following me, and I am a big fan of hers. Her dog Simone is always looking at me through the computer screen saying, "Please take me away and cuddle me forever. Even though my parents throw me birthday parties and you wouldn't." You guys are great with those parties. Poor Cinnamon just gets me shoving my face in his belly going "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and then opening a can of Fancy Feast. Conveniently, this is also how I celebrate Jesse's birthday.

Susan from Live Lightly, Laugh Often also started following me. Go check out the pretty pictures that are her header and background. Her and her husband are remodeling their house and I want PICTURES. Wow. I just went to her blog and she has a whole tab dedicated to their house. I feel like a tool.

On to other items of business.

Once I was at the mall with my sisters and brother-in-law. Now, this is the Pony Village Mall in Coos Bay, Oregon, meaning, this mall is jank. I think JC Penney was able to stay in business, but everything else constantly had a going out of business sign except for the attached Dollar Tree and Army recruitment guys. Not that the Army recruitment guys would have a going out of business sign. They would have more of a "try the Marines next door" type of thing.

Recently I was at my parents' house and Mom had copies of a questionnaire that each member of the family had filled out back in the Coos Bay days. Do you know where my favorite place to hang out was, on that list?

Just...guess.

Wait for it...

WALMART. Didn't see that coming, did you. Unless you are Jesse, because I have extensively gone over why the Walmart was better than the mall in Coos Bay. The Walmart there was awesome. I'm receding into myself talking about this so I'm going to move forward to the story.

So hanging out at the Po-nay Village, my sister and her husband said something along the lines of, "Look at that new gym right there. I wonder how much it costs." And I said, "I'll go check." Now, my other sister Susan tells me she was there with me when this happened, but I have a bad memory and change facts, so here's my story instead. I was alone.

As I walked up to the counter, I told myself I would just ask for a broshay that included their prices. A broshay? I asked myself. Yeah... that's right. Broshay. The guy at the counter was a big beefy guy with minimal neckage and wearing ear buds.

"Could I have a broshay?"

Blink. "What?"

"A broshay." Duh.

Blank stare. He points into the mall. "The guy who's normally is here buying some socks right now, so..."

"... ...Okay, thanks," I said as I rolled my eyes and thought moron.

And then. Oh no. BROCHURE.

Cinnafluff and Jesse:

And happy birthday, Madre! I love you whole bunches. Enjoy the very thoughtful gift certificate I emailed to you.

Hoarders.

2011-02-07T20:59:00.000-08:00

Hey, I've reached 41 followers! Interestingly, my 40th follower is Pepe Le Pew, which is somewhat surprising because I didn't know he had opposable thumbs.

That joke was terrible.

I'm also puzzled because I can't seem to find who the 41st follower is. Is it normal to be fretting about this?

Last night we went and picked up the first season of Hoarders from the library. You would have been embarrassed how excited I was to watch that show. Jesse was all 'ok fine' (insert eye roll) about the whole thing, because he wanted to get started on the Long Way Down because it has motorcycles and is manly.

So, Hoarders starts out with showing images of the houses in question, and then gets to the whole HOARDERS creepy, yet poignant, logo. This clip maybe lasts 20, 25 seconds. Within that 20 or 25 seconds before the title of the first episode, Jesse mentioned that our living room wasn't that messy, and then YES IT WAS and he was already up and grabbing stuff before the title.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I wanted to watch it as added motivation to clean the house. But I really just wanted to enjoy a nice, relaxing evening on the couch thinking about how wonderful it is not to have a totally scary hoarder house. But there goes Jesse making me put all my clothes away in between watching four (4) episodes of Hoarders.

Do you like how pink Jesse's floating head is in that shot? The totally ridiculous thing is that I cut him out of the picture for my own floating head, which hellur, I could have used the same one so we both had that awkward up-the-neck style shot. I mean, do you know how much of my neck I have to cut out of that picture? You just couldn't understand.

Cinnamon under the covers:

I realized that I've never taken a picture of Cinnamon doing his most favorite thing in the world, which is sleeping under the covers with us. And I love how he eventually scoots up to where his adorable kitty head is on the pillow. It's a hard scene to catch because he won't stay under the covers if we aren't there, and usually I'm indecently dressed in bed and would rather not post those images on the internet for everyone and my mom to see. Because I'm classy like that.

Okay bye.

Diabeetus and what do you mean I want compliments on my new design?

2011-01-07T11:50:00.000-08:00

A few months ago we decided to get Jesse a life insurance policy. The insurance company sent someone out to give Jesse a blood test. The test came back showing that his blood sugars were way high.

And that's how we found out about his

Seeing as he's only 28, it probably would have been a long time until we found out about the diabetes unless we tried to get that insurance policy. So, kind of depressing, but at the same time, kind of deblessing. A blessing. I was trying to rhyme, I don't think it worked. And because I'm sure you're dying to know, he's not on any medication as of yet because he's got time to try and keep it under control with diet and exercise. Which, what marriage weight gain? And, here's something depressing. His goal weight? Is twenty pounds less than what I weigh right now. Oh, excuse me, that sound was me suppressing a sob while horking down a candy bar.

In non-diabetic news, we have Amy, to whom I am the biggest fan, who is having a giveaway for copies of her currently unpublished book. Being a biggest fan has its privileges (meaning I've read the book) and I LOVE this book. LOVE LOVE LOVE. You should try to get a copy. If you want. No pressure. Here's the link.

Also, we have two new followers here at the twelvedaysold! Fourth Daughter, author of Style Wilderness is up first. She lives in Australia which we all know means she's fabulous. It also means I have even more questions about Oz that I have to ask NessaKnit because I'm a silly American and needy.

And then Mrs. Tuna has made an appearance! Her blog is hilarious, and includes recipes in every post. Her blog incorporates two of my favorite things: laughing and eating. If only I could get a nap in there and it would be the perfect blog. With cats and puppies. And instead of cooking could we just get Taco Bell?

And here is rude Cinnamon being rude.

Jesse had taken off this jacket for like a second in between taking out the trash and who knows what other chore I had him do, and Cinnamon crawled up there and got all indignant on us when we kicked him off. Like he'd been there for hours or something. Start paying rent, cat.

(Also, please notice the very cute artwork of Extra Ordinary as my new header. She is SO CUTE. And her and her man are creepily similar to Jesse and I. Like this comic. I guess I just called myself cute.)

2010, a year in pictures. And, you know, words.

2010-12-30T12:10:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else really glad that 2010 is almost over? I mean, good riddance.

For those of you who stayed up late Christmas night worrying because you didn't get me a birthday present for the 26th, I had a very good day. Jesse did an EXCELLENT job for my birthday, surprising me with a booze cruise!

Well, a brunch cruise, but whatever. We went up to the wheel room and Jesse announced it was my birthday so el capitan let me steer the boat for a while. We had a really great time, and I highly recommend the Portland Spirit cruises. It's something I've wanted to do for a while (hence Jesse saying "See? I listen!") and it was a great way to see a side of the city you don't normally see.

So, to wrap up this year, even though a lot of you have been reading my blog for a year and are like, "why is she repeating everything she's already said?" Calm down, and enjoy some highlights.

We bought the car Hank.

In February I welcomed the newest member to my family, my very own Nana! Which by the by, having a nana is awesome. I see why my niece and nephews like it so much.

We got infested with slugs. And then... we got infested with slugs. And dudes, it happened more than I mentioned on the blog, because the novelty of taking pictures of slugs in your bathroom wears off fast.

In July we went to San Diego Comic Con. Which I wrote about in three parts for some reason, I think because I didn't have anything else to talk about. Part One and Part Two and Part Three.

Then, in August, I killed Hank.

And then, two days later, we found out Jesse's beloved kitty Suki had diabetes. And so we put her down and bought a new car the same day, which, in hindsight, don't buy a car when you're in mourning, okay? I mean, ours turned out okay in the end, but your judgment is skewed. Lessons from Aunt Katie. Poop accidents.

In November the only post I did was about my wisdom teeth extraction in high school, which everyone had a good time telling me about THEIR wisdom teeth extractions in the comments and in emails. And the only reason I allowed you to post your stories in the comments was because I wasn't there in real life to interrupt you in the middle of your story and say, "That's nothing!"

Then in November we found out Jesse has type 2 diabetes, which I haven't really told you about because have I mentioned I've been busy? I also had a scare with Cinnamon, thinking perhaps he ... hey, I realized I never made the morbid joke that diabetes runs in the family because Suki got it. Well, there it is. Anyway, 15 1/2 year old Cinnamon is still alive and kicking for now (he was diagnosed with kidney disease the same time Suki got diabetes). And if you're wondering, we went from cheap cat food to prescription cat food at TWENTY EIGHT DOLLARS A BAG, but it actually has helped his blood work a ton, so...there it is. In case you guys are considering getting quote unquote better food for your animal, I recommend trying it.

There was also a lot of begging for more followers this year, copious amounts of cat pictures, and various knitting projects. Let's take a look!

So, my new blog friends, here's to a non-sucky 2011! And thanks for humoring me on this blog. It's nice to know that some people out there in the blogosphere find me worth giving attention to. Well, sometimes. Some people don't like cats, which is crazy.

Christmas cards from strangers and I made a hat.

2010-12-19T13:06:00.000-08:00

Yaaaaaay! Duffylou is now following me! Duffy, I'm stoked you're following me. She's a Bye Bye, Pie junkie as well. Good times. Yeah. Am I still typing?

The wieners of our Christmas cards are modeled by the very enthusiastic CinnaVanna White.

Annie and The Furry Godmother!

And I'm going to be honest, guys. Even though she Fahrvergügened and wasn't chosen, Joann is already getting a Christmas card. She won a postcard when I went to Comic Con, so she's already on The List. Same as Amy. And even though Target Steve never comments anymore, he's getting one. If you win something here, apparently you win forever. Which is weird because why am I so excited to send strangers mail?

And now for the weather, here's Jesse.

"Looks chilly out there Jesse, is that right?"

"Oh yes it is. You may not need an umbrella, but it's a little nippy and you may want to wear a hat. Just like the hat my wife just finished for me."

"Well, my, what an excellent job she did! And I bet she's just chomping at the bit for people to visit her craftster link and leave a comment!"

"Oh, she is! Back to you, Katie."

And now, for the very patient NessaKnit (thanks for being so nice). What seems like a long, long time ago, NessaKnit had a giveaway on her blog for a vintage knitting pattern book, and I won! Pictures.

She was just supposed to send a vintage book, but she sent all sorts of goodies! Like this Surprise Yarn. Which is now a Surprise cowl (craftster link).

And here's Cinnamonster being Santa's little helper while I was wrapping some presents.

Merry Christmas, ya'll! (And it's my birthday next Sunday, I'm very excited! I'm sure you're excited for me too.)

The children were nestled all snug in their beds

2010-12-13T12:52:00.000-08:00

While visions of sugar plums (and apparently Taco Bell) danced in their heads.

Merry Christmas!

I have two extra Christmas cards set aside for my blog followers, if you are so inclined to receiving mail from strange people on the internet. To be eligible, please paste the word Fahrvergügen in your comment.

The Christmas Tree of Sorrow and Despair.

2010-12-09T14:28:00.000-08:00

I got a new follower. So this is the pattern. Don't blog for a month, come back, find a new follower. It's been working out pretty well so far. Hello, Randine. I seeeeeee you.

Okay, so we got this stupid tree and then the stupid thing wouldn't stay upright. The fury. THE FURY.

And as you can see, I fiddled with it so much that half the ornaments are now facing the wall. And then my dad came over and said, "You know what I'd do? Got any string?" And immediately I was on the same page because I'm my father's daughter and I was like OH HECK YES I'VE GOT SOME STRING. So later on when Jesse was at the store by himself because I may have already been in my jammies, I climbed behind the tree with a cup hook and some yarn to tie the tree up to the wall so it wouldn't be so depressing anymore. And because, hello! What's more classy than a Christmas tree tied to the wall? Then I found out the walls are too soft for screws to support any weight, and I left the yarn back there, climbed back over the couch, and did some angry knitting until Jesse came home. Hi, husband! I'm your festive wife, here in my jammies and mad at you because the stupid tree stupid sucks.

I shoved a Pringles can into the tree stand and life overall has been much better. Not perfect, but better.

Also, a few weeks ago I said to Jesse, "Hey, this last half of 2010 has been pretty exciting for us, but there's been a lull the past few weeks. Why don't we go to the doctor and have him diagnose you with type 2 diabetes?"

So, that's what we've been up to. Katie's agenda: learn how to cook for a diabetic diet. Wait, scratch that. Learn how to cook.

Here's a shot of Cinnamon taking advantage of the heater behind the couch, warming up his cute pink nosie.

The end.

Oh wait, just kidding. I remembered there was a passage from a book I wanted to include, and seeing as my blog track record the past few months has been scattered, I should post it now instead of waiting.

When Jesse and I first got married, he was what you call a Scrooge about Christmas. A Bah-Humbug. A Grinch. I'm very fortunate to have a great family who's kept up on traditions, especially through the holidays. So I am what you call filled with Christmas Spirit. I love the thing. Yeah yeah, stores have made it this crazy thing to get you to spend a lot of money, but that's what stores do. You think they weren't taking advantage of people protecting themselves during Y2K, even if they thought it was bunk? Sorry I just mentioned Y2K.

I'm saying that yeah, Christmas may have become this crazy spending spree, but I still very much believe in the magic of the season. The first Christmas Jesse and I had together, he did not want to get a Christmas tree. I finally dragged him along a couple weeks before Christmas and made him get a tree with me. We had friends over afterward, I made cookies, we decorated the tree, and watched Christmas movies. That night Jesse said to me a simple, "How dare you. How dare you make me like Christmas." And that dude has not been the same ever since. I mean, that morning he didn't like Christmas. The next day he wanted to throw a big ugly sweater Christmas party.

Last month I found an old book my mom had bought me by an author I liked, and I read a part that reminded me of Jesse and I may have cried a little bit (nobody saw, it doesn't count). Yes I was reading it in the bathroom. Because we keep it real here at twelvedaysold.

This passage is from Engaging Father Christmas, a novella by Robin Jones Gunn (author of the Christy Miller series, beloved of my heart).

"I thought of all the times over the years when I had heard people say Christmas was too commercial and materialistic. They were right, of course. I couldn't disagree. But if any one of those bah-humbug, Christmas Scrooges had lived my life, if they had come from where I came from, with motel soaps and shampoos and never a Christmas tree to fill a room with cheer and wonder, I think they would have softened their railings. If they could feel what I felt at this moment, gazing at the Christmas tree with wide-eyed Julia, they would say that tradition, decorations, and gifts were a beautiful way to celebrate Christ's birth."

And that's it, my fabulous followers! Hopefully I'll have the annual Bray Creepy Christmas Photo up sometime this weekend. (And Nessa, I owe you pictures of the cowl I knit and the package you sent me, but I wanted to get this post up before it was too late to talk about Christmas.)

Hot or Not? Dot com.

2010-11-08T16:48:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this story with saying yes, I think I am better than you if you don't have a more impressive wisdom tooth extraction story. I can't help it. It is a major flaw in the human race. But I'm not the only one. Here, let me insert a video, and if you don't want the video, I have included the dialogue in text form for your viewing pleasure. If you don't care for either (why are you here), then skip down until you hear think *tink*, then you may turn the page.

"I made the mistake of trying to tell a story about having only two wisdom teeth pulled. And I learned a lesson. Don't ever try to tell a two-wisdom-tooth story, because you ain't goin' nowhere. The four-wisdom teeth people are gonna parachute in and cut you off at the pass. "Halt! Halt with your two wisdom tooth tale!" You will never complete one - trust me. I was trying to tell my story ...

"You know, I had some wisdom teeth pulled ... I had two--"
"I had four pulled."

Oh, ok.

...No, five. No, nine! I had nine wisdom teeth pulled! All of mine were impacted, they were all coming in upside down, the roots wrapped around my tongue, coming out my nose ... there were tusks! I was a warthog! No anesthesia, they pulled them out with pliers, I was eating corn-on-the-cob that afternoon.

Pin the blue ribbon upon his chest. That knocks the socks off of my wisdom tooth tale."

Anyway.

*tink* You may now turn the page.

My face swelled up when I had my FOUR wisdom teeth pulled. And because of that flaw I mentioned in the human race, yes, I got dry socket in two of my teeth because I kept throw-throw-throwing up after taking Vicodin, thereby pushing out two of my bloodclots. I know you're thrilled to read this.

Speaking of that dry socket, the night that was the worst I took a bunch of pain meds and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning watching infomercials, and crying. Imagine me, perched on the side of my bed, tears streaming down my face for what had been hours at that point, watching an infomercial on mineral makeup, reveling in how amazing the results were. I needed that mineral makeup. Sob. Needed. Needless to say I didn't get the makeup and I had to take a suppository to stop being nauseous.

Anyway, there are two pictures from my wisdom teeth extraction, one I call the "girl" picture:

And one I call the "boy" picture:

Now I want to state, for the record, I was not allowed to put photos of myself online while I was in high school. And for the most part, I complied. Until this photo was taken.

There is a website called hotornot.com where you upload a photo of yourself and people rate how hot you are. And I just checked to make sure it still exists, and it appears that yes, people are still wanting low self esteem by putting pictures of themselves online for people to rate how hot they are. It's redonk.

So anyway, I decided to go against my mother's wishes, and I put the boy photo of myself online as a dude.

Aaaaallll that to say:

The ladies think I'm a 7.

Hi, I'm twelvedaysold, not in prison.

2010-10-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a talk with Jesse about something kind of important.

"Honey?" I said, sweetly, but sternly. "I feel like you're putting your homework on the back burner."

And then I literally slapped my knee and got kind of that giddy-in-your-chest-too-funny-of-a-joke-to-laugh-properly thing.

But on to more important things.

Honey?

I'm going to be honest and say it's gonna be kind of irregular at the twelvedaysold for a little while. Life is getting cray-zay and the holidays aren't going to help. Well, they are, because Christmas is awesome, but you understand. It's about being bizzay, dawg. Bledat.

Anyway, craft project!

It looks a little dull in this photo, so here's an angled shot so you can see how sparkly the letters actually were.

Jasmine is my cutie pie niece, and here's a picture of her absolutely in love with her new bedroom door sign.

Actually, I typed all this before her party, so I'm really going out on a limb.

Let's move forward. Cinnabanana, doing his new laying down-squinty-eye thingy:

And, a while ago Jesse and I were arguing about something stupid (which is how it always is, am I right or am I right?) and Cinnamon was sitting on my legs. He jumped off me and in the middle of Jesse and I arguing I was like GET THE CAMERA. And here's the cuteness that ensued and what put whatever we were arguing about to rest.

See? Pets are good for a marriage!

And I have a new follower, Giddy Fingers! It's a comic blog, and right up my alley. Giddy, I'm not sure why you started following me when I hadn't blogged for like 2 weeks, but I appreciate the pity follow.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, Jesse had already moved all the flammable papers from the stove and I had to reenact the photo.

Wordless Wednesday 2.0. Toddler and sixth grade. What happened to my eyebrows?

2010-10-05T22:58:00.000-07:00

Lay off me, I'm starving

2010-10-04T10:53:00.000-07:00

Weeks and weeks ago, I decided to pick up a couple cheeseburgers from Burgerville. I love you, Burgerville!

I got these cheeseburgers because Jesse had asked me to pick him up from school that night. If I don't eat when I'm hungry, I get what's known as Low-Blood-Sugar-Cranky-Butt-Disorder. It's not pretty. It wasn't so bad until after we got married. Turns out when you know the guy is going to stick around, you don't hide the Cranky Butt as much.

Me, while dating: "Oh no, I can wait another two hours to eat! No problem!" sucks in stomach

Me, while married: "Well, I SAID I was hungry half an hour ago, so yeah, I'm still hungry WOULD YOU PULL OVER." Pretty. Is what it's not. For the sake of our marriage, I try to eat before I see him if I'm hungry.

Anyway. Cheeseburgers. I was eating the first one when I tasted something odd. Not like, kitchen-cleaner-odd, just food-that-isn't-normally-in-a-burger-odd. And I sat there for a good 30 seconds to a minute trying to figure out what the flavor was that I was tasting.

Celery, guys. It was celery. I can honestly say that with years of mastering the ability to pick green vegetables out of potato salad that I haven't had celery in probably a decade.

(Oh, and on another note? Jesse had me eat a banana last weekend which was literally the first time I've eaten a banana in it's regular state in at least nine years. And that is not an exaggeration. There's a whole uninteresting story behind why I don't eat bananas, but this is not the time.)

So I decided to write that story on a blog I read, and I got such comments as:

"Celery on a burger?!?"

"Who puts CELERY on a hamburger?"

"Celery on a burger? That is just so wrong, I can't even comprehend it."

You may notice not one of those comments said anything about my ATROCIOUS DIET. Hi, mom.

Okay, cat:

Aaaaand we have a new follower. Sandra with Absolutely Narcissism! Thank you for encouraging me to think the world needs my blog fodder. Fodddd-eeeerrrrrrr.

Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands.

2010-09-23T16:43:00.000-07:00

Have I ignored you long enough? Yes? Are you sure? Because I could leave for a little bit longer, if you enjoyed the silence.

Even though I've been missing (and as a side effect, boring) for the past week or so, I've gotten two new followers! I know, I don't understand it either.

First up we have NessaKnit. She's Australian. And since we are all from America we think she is fabulous. Am I right or am I right?

And then we have The Empress from Good Day, Regular People, which slays me, because it's like, you know, like she's an Empress and everyone that visits her is a regular people. Wait, she's calling me a regular people. Unfollow.

Speaking of getting more followers even though I'm not updating, I got a couple MORE followers on my twitter account. It's mind-bottling.

Okay, well. I'm back in bidniss. Here are a few photos of our adventure at the Japanese Gardens.

"Here's a good idea. Have a POINT."

2010-09-15T08:53:00.000-07:00

Hi.

I've been sick.

Do you ever get the feeling when you're sick that you are the most dull, boring, boring person in the world? I don't know how anyone could find me interesting right now. Jesse, you made a mistake pairing up with me. I'm so dull. And I can talk about cats for like 2 hours before realizing it.

We went to the Japanese Gardens on Saturday and had a Star Wars marathon with BRITTNEY and BRACKEN before I got sick. I'll post pictures later. Because, if I posted them now, that would be interesting. And I am dull right now.

"Camping's a tradition in my family." "Hey, it was a tradition in everyone's family, 'til we came up with a house."

2010-09-07T15:02:00.000-07:00

Well, everything has been very non-sucky lately, which is great on a personal level, but slightly boring on a blog level.

EXCEPT (whooo boy) Brittney and Bracken are back in Portland!! Well, they're in Gresham, but that is an insanely better drive than going to Coos Bay. Oh how we missed our BrittBrack. OH HOW WE DID. And, I will allow Brittney a few weeks to get settled in and get internet access, and then she does not get off the hook until she blogs again. She just went on a roadtrip to Wyoming and homegirl needs to BLOG. Please head over there and bother her.

I found a disposable camera like 8 months ago in our truck before we abandoned it on that forsaken car lot, and I came across it again last week. Did you know some of them have expiration dates? I know, right! It was two years expired, but I had high hopes. The film was ripped so they only got 16 shots out of it, but there is a whole series of photos from a camping trip I took with Brittney and Evan (you know Evan, I named my car after him. He's back in the states now, so his blog I'm Evan and I'm in Iceland should be changed to I'm Evan and I'm in Tacoma, Washington Feel Bad For Me).

That's Evan.

That camping trip was awesome. And by "awesome" I mean, I haven't gone camping since. Why do people go camping?

"My parents never took me camping, you know why? 'Cause they loved me." -- Jim Gaffigan

The summer I was engaged to that man of mine, Britt, Evan and I got together for the 2nd annual BrittEvanKatie get-together. Sure, we can go camping! Sounds like a great idea! There was no firewood around the area. Which didn't matter because we couldn't get a fire started anyway. But I said hey, no wussing out. No waking up tomorrow morning and saying "Want to get breakfast at Kozy Kitchen?" Needless to say we drove in to town and had breakfast bright and early the next morning, and I got a horrible sunburn just in time for a wedding I was the maid of honor for. However. Here are the photos of us with gummy bears. (And yes, we did eventually get a fire started when we walked around the campground and someone was selling firewood and fire starters.)

Gummies roasting on an open fire...sunburn nipping on my skin... I know it's been said, many times, many ways...I hate camping, I-I hate...camp...ing.

I did have a good time (obviously), don't get me wrong. It's just...I like showering without such a high risk of getting hepatitis.

Alright, new followers! Susan's friend Jessica FINALLY started following me. And my friend Jennifer started following me as well, along with Tarunita from Me and My Life. Thanks, guys!

Wordless Wednesday 1.0 MAKE ME SOME DINNER

2010-09-01T12:38:00.000-07:00

Kitty Fever.

2010-08-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

My old friend Keith started following my blog. Hi Keithy! Thanks for following! Welcome to the most depressing website on the internet.

And Jennifer! I must know how you found my blog and where you know me from! Please email me at twelvedaysold@gmail.com so I can put a face with the name. Thanks for commenting. Also, welcome to the most exciting website on the internet.

I MADE SOCKS, SUCKAS!

So sheik! So FIERCE!

And this was the moment Cinnamon decided he didn't want me to be his owner anymore. "I'm leaving," he said. "And fix that lampshade."

Who can't get enough cats now? Is it me? And my husband? Obsessed with everyone else's kitties? Oh, hi Cinnamon. I didn't see you there.

On Saturday night some friends invited us to dinner. They just adopted two kittens, one 4 months old, one 6 months old. Trying to nap? No, you're playing with me. Irritated with me? I don't care, let's cuddle. Ooh, that was a pretty disgusting sneeze all over my arm. It's okay, I forgive you. Kiss.

Add that to the fact that we watched the first season of Project Runway and when I woke up this morning Jesse said, "Did you dream about clothes?" "Yes, and cats. It was weird."

AAANNNNDD my Nana sent us some pillowcases for our anniversary! Naturally, they are covered in cats. She is what we call an "enabler".

Oh, and I want to leave you with this shot I took of Cinnamon's chest. I know, I know, he said "My eyes are up HERE" too. This is his lovely belly fur that I like to snuggle. Go ahead. Be jealous.

Boxers or briefs? I don't know.

2010-08-27T14:05:00.000-07:00

I just deleted my whole blog post. So I'm sure you can understand if this is brief.

BRIEFS GOOD ONE KATIE.

Are those briefs? I don't actually know. Please advise.

What I already typed, before Blogger decided it was mad at me, was: Do you like the Gap (yes)? Or Old Navy (double yes)? Or Banana Republic (not so much, no)? Well then I HAVE A DEAL FOR YOU! Through Sunday you can use this coupon for 30% off your purchase at any of those stores. Five percent of your purchase will then be donated to Big Brothers Big Sisters! And even if donating to those type of things isn't your bag of tricks, it's still an awesome deal, yo. Here's the coupin.

http://www.gapinc.com/giveandget/bigbrothersbigsisters/

And sorry for calling you yo.

Oh, and I know that this is the second time I've told you guys about opportunities to donate to charity. But I won't ever post organizations that I don't believe in. And there are ones I don't donate to because I feel they don't use their money wisely. But Big Brothers Big Sisters, along with volunteering there myself, I really do believe in what they do.

Anyway, I was then going to tell you that my husband and I just had our 3 year anniversary on Wednesday. And he told me not to blog about what we did this year because it was lame. So I won't mention it, even though I don't think eating a ton of Burgerville and then falling asleep on the couch watching Mythbusters is lame. But I guess you'll never know.

Alright, Cinnabutt:

"Cinnamon, get off the coffee table."
"Everything ELSE is on the coffee table."
"Carry on."

And a cute one of the Jessebutt. Well, not literally. I guess.

Knock knock. Who's there? I'm Evan!

2010-08-21T22:02:00.000-07:00

As of a few days ago, I started an experiment to see if VW Beetle drivers wave at each other. Did you know that they all look really mad all the time, and never wave back? I told Susan I continue to do it because the people behind me won't notice that the other person didn't wave, but when they see me stick my hand out the window they'll think: "Hey, those slug bug people all wave to each other." Then they'll think I'm part of some elusive club of slug buggers, but really, we are all in bad moods even though our cars are cute. Hey-o!

Oh yeah, and Jesse and I agreed on a name for the car. It took a while. But we named it after my friend Evan. In particular, his knock knock joke.

Knock knock.

Who's there?

I'm Evan!

Yes it's a stupid joke but it GETS ME EVERY TIME.

(And if you are interested, Evan is in Iceland right now and has a blog titled I'm Evan and I'm in Iceland and funnily enough, he's coming back to America in like 5 days, so that link will be a lie soon enough, end of sentence.)

Oh, and could my family be any pushier about me naming my car? We never named our cars growing up, but when I mention that we name ours, everyone has an opinion. My own MOTHER tried to guilt me into naming it after a dead family member. Name your own car, I said to her. I don't name my cars, she said to me. I don't understand why we're still talking about this, I said.

Well...here's a picture of Cinnamon. It feels awkward only having one cat to show pictures of. So I'll show multiple pictures of him.

This is his newest look, The Sleepy Look. Very Mugatu.

And this one's a bit of a game. Can you see the yellow cat in the dead grass?

Moving forward...

My favorite author, A.B. Keuser, sent me a box of cookies (being a biggest fan has its perks) and in there was a note that I could share them with my friend Jenna. As it turns out, Jenna...I owe you some cookies. As in, I need to make you some cookies. Amy's a great cookie baker! And snickerdoodles for breakfast? I think even my mom will let that slide.

Look at me with all those links. My sister gave me a hard time about never linking to her when I talk about her so I'm trying to fix that. Hey, Susan! I'm linking your blog! LIIINNNKKK.

Anyway, here's an updated picture of my hip.

And I just lied right there, because I had Jesse take this picture like 3 days ago. The bruise is almost gone.

Oh, and I wanted to thank you all for your really nice comments about Suki. We totally miss her and keep thinking we see her, so it's nice to know other people understand.

Also, we have TWO NEW FOLLOWERS here at twelvedaysold yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

We have Daniela! And LoveandLust! (Etsy shop link) And I just saw I got another new follower, and that is Willoughbywhimsy. I guess I didn't need to tell you I just saw I got a new follower, when I am writing this and I could go back and delete that line and just mention the three of them together. Yet here we are. It's like when my mother-in-law sent me an email and wrote "just a second" in it. One thousand one...

All right, well just a second and I'll post this. Wait for it...

Poop accidents.

2010-08-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

FINALLY.

Someone found my blog by searching "poop accidents". And I just really don't think it can get any better than that.

Twelvedaysold.

Poop accidents.

Things are better, guys. A bittersweet kind of better. Things got drastically better and drastically more sad at the same time, but what can you do? You live your life, and you tell yourself my new motto to keep yourself going:

Poop accidents.

Just like that Katie always says, "Poop accidents."

Let's pretend that my mind was a bunch of building blocks, built up into a pyramid. And I love building blocks by the way, that would be a great present if you feel so inclined. Yesterday I got a call from my insurance company that Hank was totaled. And it's like, one block had been poked from the initial car accident, and then 6 more throughout the course of the weekend. And then I got that call and that one was too weight bearing of a block and then it got knocked out and AAAAAAHHHHHHHH. I mean, would we be upside down on the loan? When can we take Suki in? How much will it all cost? How much longer do we have the rental?

And then as quickly as it fell apart in the morning, it came back together in the afternoon, finishing up a really horrible 5 days. We were not upside down on the loan. Suki's parting was way more rough than I could have imagined on us, but we distracted ourselves with this.

Speaking of Suki, we were hoping to keep her for another week or two. But you know how when you find out something's wrong that you didn't know about that you suddenly notice all the things you should have seen before? Sleeping more, how much she drank, etc. On Sunday we left her home alone for 3 hours and she peed in 5 different spots of the house. Not vengeful peeing, like on our pillows, but in the hallway, the bathroom, the bedroom... And it wasn't like regular cat pee, but really diluted. Ugh, guys, it just totally blows. I know we did the right thing. But it blows.

Oh, and we got to see Hank one last time when we emptied her out at the auto shop. And I snagged this photo on my phone before we left:

We're going through a little bit of mourning as Jesse and I adjust and talk about all the sweet things she used to do. How instead of playing with yarn she would pull it taught and then continually LICK it (that was always a fun spot to get to in my knitting), and how whenever she dropped a big poop she would run as fast as she could through the house. Or how she would be sitting in front of you looking at something behind you and you could wait and wait to see if she's still looking, but the moment you turned around to see what she's looking at she either 1) looked away casually or 2) looked at you like you are a huge moron.

Oh, and the "she" up there was in reference to the cat, not Hank. Hank never licked my yarn.

So hopefully we will get back to your regularly programmed activities instead of talking about the week from BEYOND. Because I have a couple new followers. And I may have eaten all the cookies Amy sent me that I was supposed to save for Jenna.

And now a quote from my fazha: "Everything with be OK and it will all work out, mostly because there is no other choice."

And don't forget what Aunt Katie says. Poop accidents.

The terrible, horrible, no good, really sucky three days.

2010-08-14T18:30:00.000-07:00

Suki has always had a thing for water. I've blogged about it a lot, about how she likes to get in the tub after we've taken a shower, or whenever she hears us go into the bathroom when she turns off Miss Silent and becomes Miss Do-What-I-Want until we turn on some water for her in the tub. For at least the past few weeks, we've noticed that the cats go through one whole bowl of water every day. We knew it was mostly Suki, but it wasn't until Jesse said he thought it was strange that I looked it up and realized cats aren't supposed to drink that much normally, especially because we feed her wet food.

So even though I had just been in a car accident a couple days prior and haven't quite been myself, I put my foot down and said we needed to get the cats to their vet appointment, even if something was wrong with Suki. And that's when they told us she has diabetes.

And that's when they told us Cinnamon has the beginning stages of kidney disease. It's not too terrible, and we can have him for another couple years before anything really starts to happen, but he needs to be put on a special diet. A diet that would be fine to share with another cat that didn't have diabetes. And insulin for Suki would cost $130 a month, along with that new diet. And while I know you've seen the lavish life we live here in the 'burbs, there's no way we can scrape that money up.

So, sad news, Internets. It might be a little quiet and sullen over here for a while as we say goodbye to our sweet Suki so we can get Cinnamon started on his regime before we wait too long. We're really bummin here at the Bray household, even though we knew the risk of adopting an 11 year old cat last year, and knowing the possibilities at the end of the vet appointment today. We're hoping God cuts us a little slack the rest of the weekend before hearing back from my car insurance company and having to think too much about Suki being gone.

For your viewing discomfort.

2010-08-14T18:04:00.000-07:00

If you have no idea why I'm showing you my hip's new look after dating Korean steel, please see my last post where I attempted to take myself and a minor that I was in charge of out to dinner.

Casualty.

2010-08-13T12:23:00.000-07:00

Well.

It's always the ones you don't think would hurt you, that do.

I had a slight altercation with Hank. Perhaps 7 months into this relationship was too long. Or perhaps the fact that I drove her in front of a car that was moving 40 miles an hour while shouting out "T-bone me! T-bone me!" is what did us in. Quite literally.

Last night I was pulling out of a side street when I was a big fat dummy and didn't see the girl driving towards me on my left. I saw her too late, tried to speed up, and she swerved like a madwoman (in slightly the wrong direction) and hit my car. I like to think I can blame her. Because I pulled out in front of her. Remember that part about being a big fat dummy?

It totally ruined my dinner plans.

I'm part of the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. I've had my little sister for a few months now, and I picked her up last night to celebrate a belated birthday with her. We hadn't gone 300 feet from her house before my attempted murder of Hank. The reason I tell you this totally embarrassing part about putting my Little in danger is that I have to check in with someone at Big Brothers every month to see how things are going. She wrote me a few days ago and had a list of questions for me to answer. One of which was the following:

2) What are some of the safety precautions you take as a Big to make sure that your little is safe when hanging out with you?

"Well, first I make sure she buckles that seat belt up. Then I look over at her and say "HOLD ON!" while I pull out in front of a car during a left-hand turn. I mean, she's gotta find out sometime, right? Life lessons!"

Oh. And the irony. The stone-cold, slap you in the face, never call you back after that first date that you thought went really well irony. When the cop came and talked to me and got all my information, he suddenly said, "That shirt is appropriate."

I could not make this stuff up if I tried.

Please note the small "ctrl + z" to the side of the car crash. Control z is "undo". Unfortunately, no one had a keyboard handy. And believe it or not, I was wearing my slimming bra.

I have a really horrendous looking bruise on my hip that I'll show you later. I know you're excited. Holy crap, I was just about to make a joke about how I got injured and it wasn't even anyone's birthday before I realized why I was taking my Little out in the first place.

Okay, here's where you leave comments to me about how glad you are that I'm not dead. Because we all know Jesse would never clean the litter box unless Suki dropped a particularly nasty dookie.

Gloves and WHO'S THE CULPRIT YOU LITTLE JERKS

2010-08-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

My many fans, I do not understand. I have had three new followers on my Twitter page in the last month. Twitter called, wants my poop back. I haven't updated since December 2009. In case you don't know (and you were so lucky before you started reading this), I'm what we call "anti-Twitter", seeing as I really don't care what my friends are doing every single moment of their lives. Sorry, friends. You're just really, really boring. I KID. (No I don't.) So I started Twittering every time I pooped. Do you think these people noticed my page, and are concerned that perhaps I haven't pooped since December 2009?

A long, long while ago I started knitting some gloves, and I showed you how quickly I knit the first hand. The second hand, well...that took some motivation. But here they are. Here they are, indeed. (craftster post here)

"And tonight we see Katie wearing...what's that...looks like the Disney collection...Yes! The Princess pajamas! It's definitely Cinderella, I'm sure of it. And those gloves! So chic! An excellent pick with the kitty clutch, newest from Fred Segal. She has chosen 'Frightened Feline #3'."

And yes I had to look up Fred Segal to make sure it was a clothing retailer. Didn't want it to be Fred Meyer's cousin or anything.

Why yes, I did blur the background to hide the stuff we had on the floor. How did you find out!

Moving forward...

I was going to talk about how the cats had what people call "accidents". But we call it "we temporarily forgot why we have those cats in the first place."

I realize that is interesting to no one, yet here I am still talking about it. The first two times they peed in really good spots (for cat pee, that is) like a plastic bag that was easily thrown away. Then there was two small spots of pee on the carpet in the living room, which was convenient for no one. Well, except for Jesse, who was on his way to school and "oh the cats peed on the carpet, I put a paper towel down." A paper towel. I scoff at your paper towel.

Now, Jesse thinks one of the cats decided to pee on the carpet. I, myself, me, Katie, choose to believe that they both sat across from each other and counted down to peeing, and then ran off giggling to the tub for a midnight tub licking.

I've also brought all of you here today to ask a favor. When you guys comment, I usually have things to say in reply to that comment. But I'd rather not comment underneath your comments because I'm pretty sure none of you come back to read them and it depresses me when half of the comments on a post are from myself. When I get an email saying you have commented, I like to hit that 'reply' button and send an email back to you. And, as it turns out, almost all of you have set your email address to not show when you comment. I'm asking you to change that. To do so, go into your blogger profile ("edit profile" on your dashboard) and click the "show my email address" box. I'm not forcing you to do it (but if I were in your computer room with you, I would try, trust me) but what of the whimsical and uninteresting things that you never get to hear from me?

Sorry I'm still talking about this. Part 3.

2010-08-05T10:36:00.000-07:00

After this post, things will go back to normal, but I feel the need to clarify what Comic Con actually was. Well, kind of. I still don't really understand it myself. Don't worry, next post will be filled with the gloves I finished knitting, and cats that have decided that peeing inside the litter box is something only cats that aren't mad that their owners left them for a week decide to do.

Contrary to what you might think (this is for you, Steve-oh), Comic Con has, how you say, like, no comic books. It seems no one knows why it is still called Comic Con. We went to the Will Eisner Awards and the host said he was told that somewhere on the floor there was rumored to be comics, but he hadn't seen them yet. It should be called Media Con or something. While, yes, there are nerds there (lots and lots of nerds), there are more shops selling toys and artists selling art and movies and tv shows and video games taking up massive amounts of floor space. There really is something there for everyone who is into any of those things. And I'll be the first to say the comic books section was lame. But see? I'm not into comic books.

Oh, I did see one artist's tramp stamp. I bought a Dr. Horrible print from Russell Walks and he bent over to grab it for me and said to his friend who was in the booth with him "Hey, stop looking at my tramp stamp." And then he stood up and said, "You know, years ago it was not odd for a guy to get a tattoo on his lower back." And his friend stopped what he was doing and looked up at him and said, "Do you really have a tramp stamp?" I saw it guys. It was...awkward. That's a lie, it was awesome.

Oh, and another thing, I have officially become an old worried woman, because when we were driving home in LA, motorcyclists kept riding between the lanes, bypassing all the traffic. And you know the only thing I was thinking? YOU'RE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED! Motorcyclists, please. My nana rides a motorcycle. Don't be stupid. The thought of killing you sounds like it would ruin everything I had planned the rest of the day.

How glad will you be when I stop posting about my vacation that happened over a week ago and wasn't that interesting to you in the first place?

Oh, and Jessica, please follow my blog, and not just Susan's. Remember me? The sentence I had originally typed trying to get you to follow me had a lot of CAPS and I think this was a much more pleasant sentence full of begging.

You stay classy, San Diego. I'm Ron Burgundy?

A whale's vag-- wait, what? Part 2.

2010-08-02T15:19:00.000-07:00

We left off with me saying "I was on vacation and you weren't so be very jealous." Let me continue.

Oh, but first let me say that this Thursday (August 5th) all of you should go to Dairy Queen and stuff your faces with a Blizzard. On Thursday, DQs across America are giving $1 (or more, depending on the location) of each Blizzard sold to the Children's Miracle Network. If you don't know about the Children's Miracle Network, they are a string of hospitals across America that don't turn kids away that are sick -- everything from a broken bone to cancer. It's worth eating some ice cream for! Here's the website to enter your zip and see if a DQ near you is participating.

I don't know where to begin with the vacation pictures. Let's just jump right into it.

At the trolley stop at the convention center, they had changed all the signs to Klingon.

Knitting in line. I knit that sock all the way down the leg and turned the heel, and put it on my foot and it was huge. I ripped it out in that line as well.

This is Maeby from Arrested Development GUSHING over Joss Whedon. She had a comic book for him to sign. Famous people waiting in line for famous people. Huh.

And yes, a grave at Comic Con. My great-grandfather is buried in San Diego, so Jesse and I took a trip and took a million photos. Looking back, I would have taken off the temporary tattoos (of dripping BLOOD, what is wrong with me) and not worn a shirt where a guy's plumber's crack is showing.

Many of you are familiar with the website icanhascheezburger.com. At Comic Con I found a shirt that says "I CAN HAS BRAINZ?" with a zombie cat underneath it. You can see it in most the pictures with me in them. Do you know how disturbing that tshirt is outside of Comic Con?

The "winners" (if you can call yourselves that) of the postcards are: (did you know I was giving out postcards to a select few commenters? NOW YOU DO!)

Beth's husband Steve (and consequentially, Beth herself)
Joann
A.B. Keuser, who I actually know in real life and is probably wondering why she didn't get a postcard in the first place.

But now I need your addresses, so email them to me at twelvedaysold@gmail.com. And I'm not writing them up until you send me your address, because I learned the hard way that sometimes people don't get back to you with their address even after leaving two voicemails saying you have a Christmas card stamped and ready to go. I may be talking about my in-laws, and I may still be a bit bitter over that wasted stamp.

Saint Diego. Part 1.

2010-07-30T14:57:00.000-07:00

Miss me? Yeah, I missed you too. COMMENCE BULLET POINTS

I figured out why you aren't supposed to drink the water in Mexico. Because it's too close to California.
I'm going to break up the next few blog posts to be about the Comic Con. Not just because we did a lot of things, but because Portland is very boring and sunny with nothing to blog about after Comic Con.
Seriously, what is UP with the water in California? It's got this milky texture. Milky water make your foot fall off.

The drive down was nice enough for a 20 hour drive. We had the sleeping beauties in the back for a while.

But did you know when you drive a whole day for 20 hours that the day seems like a bust? What? It's WEDNESDAY? You mean all we did on Tuesday was drive?

I finally ate at In-N-Out Burger. Yes, it was delicious.

Hayley and Sarah were fantastic about buying groceries for the trip down. Did I mention we were carpooling with two other people? Well, now you know. They brought those little packs of cereal, but we had no milk! WHAT TO DO? So I went into a McDonald's to buy a kid's milk and creepily asked for a spoon and cup. "Just a milk, by itself?...That's it?" And then I came back inside to go pee, and on my way out a woman said "Excuse me." I paused for a second, knowing she couldn't be talking to anyone else and turned around. "Would you like a sandwich?" Long pause. "Sure!" She then explained they didn't want it go to waste. Their son got all into telling me the story. "Yeah! I only ordered one chicken sandwich, and they gave me TWO and now we have an extra one!" We both drove away at the same time and the boy waved at me. But for some reason Jesse wasn't as enthused as I was about me accepting this chicken sandwich from strangers. Like In-N-Out, it was delicious, but better, because it was free.

Okay, and then just remember I was in the car for a really long time.

The next day Roger and Shawn flew in from Georgia so we went out with them while Hayley and Sarah slept until 1pm. This was Shawn's third year at Comic Con and he was so handy! We farted around all afternoon and then went to preview night. After that we watched a guy get arrested. Proceed to story.

We were walking to Jack in the Box with all of our Comic Con paraphernalia and cameras so that no one would mistake us for tourists, when we saw a helicopter in the distance with a SPOTLIGHT like in the MOVIES! We commented on this, while it moved closer to us, and then on top of us. Followed by sirens and then a really really loud BANG! But since we were at Comic Con it could have also been a KAPLOOEY or WHAMMO. I started to back that butt up in case said "bang" was a, you know, gun. I am from the westside and all. And then some guy walks into the middle of the street with his hands up, the cops speed up to where we are, and arrest him. After further walking, we saw he had driven around the corner and smashed his truck into a transformer. It was not Optimus Prime, don't worry.

And I was expecting the cops to give us a hard time, telling us to go around and all. But you know what they did? "Oh, did Comic Con start tonight? How's that going?" Never mind the smashed truck in front of us, how is your vacation?

The next day we saw Seth Green. But I'm used to not seeing celebrities, so it was more like "That guy looks like Seth Green. But he's so little!" And then...oh, and then my friends. I saw Claudio from the band Coheed and Cambria.

I saw him on the then-reasonable floor of the convention center (read: before 120,000 people had access to it) and stalked him and his wife for a bit. I called Jesse and said "CLAUDIO SANCHEZ IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!" as I hid behind a pole from his view, and Jesse said "I'M LOOKING AT MIKE MIGNOLA!" It was a beautiful moment between a married couple on opposite sides of Comic Con. I followed him for a few minutes before tentatively saying "...Claudio?" And let me tell you he is SO NICE! His music is the type of genre where they're usually drunk and mean at their concerts, but they seemed like the nicest guys who took what they did seriously, and it goes for his real life too. His wife immediately put out her hand to take a picture of us (and she is a HOTTIE, let me tell you!).

That's not the original picture of me and him, because we saw them again at the Hilton when Jesse was with me. I mean, we were bothering these people on their vacation at their hotel and they were nice as can be.

Okay, well... The other days kind of run into each other so it will be three parts. Sneak peek numero uno, aka "zombie meet my neck meat":

Ron Burgundy: Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means a whale's vagina.
Veronica Corningstone: No, there's no way that's correct.
Ron Burgundy: I'm sorry, I was trying to impress you. I don't know what it means. I'll be honest, I don't think anyone knows what it means anymore. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost hundreds of years ago.
Veronica Corningstone: Doesn't it mean Saint Diego?
Ron Burgundy: No. No.
Veronica Corningstone: No, that's - that's what it means. Really.
Ron Burgundy: Agree to disagree.

Jesse.

2010-07-28T10:42:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I owe you a real blog post. The pictures need to be resized and we're good to go. But more importantly, it's Jesse's birthday.

When Jesse and I had been dating for 10 minutes and then engaged for 5, it was Jesse's birthday. I spend $250 on a tattoo for him on his back. And as it turns out, Jesse isn't much for the pain. While I get a tattoo and am in pain, I am STOKED for the new tattoo, I don't even care about the pain. Jesse isn't like that. And then we went back to his house and I washed his tattoo with a rag. A RAG. I don't know what I was thinking. It's like I hadn't gotten my own tattoos. I'm not sure it was a very good birthday present afterall. Homeboy was miserable.

The next birthday trauma involves a little back story. Once I read in a Little House on the Prairie book about the girl (was there more than one main girl? I didn't like the books) running around in the woods, and when she comes home she's in trouble for leaving, and then she looks down and notices that somewhere along the way, her big toenail had come off. Sorry for sharing that, but it MESSED with me. When Jesse and I were dating, I confessed that at various points through most days, I have to put some sort of pressure on my toenails so they feel safe. I know, bizarre.

So in 2008 on his birthday, I was moving a chair in our house. And then it happened. Something traumatic to my toenail, that I won't go into detail. Wait, yes I will. My toenail got bent back. And I have to say, it wasn't that horrible. Except, MY NIGHTMARE CAME TRUE!!! I couldn't stop crying and we had to have my parents come over and I had to wear a big bandage on my big toe. It took a year for it to completely grow out again.

Last year we were hanging out with Brittney and Bracken and as the day went on, I got this horrible back spasm. It became more and more painful and I couldn't sit down or move much. He spent the evening of his birthday rubbing my back.

So here's to you, toots, to marrying someone who apparently never cares it's your birthday. I love you very much and I'm hoping that this low-key birthday we have planned doesn't suck. We will already be at mom and dad's place in case something happens, but I will wear open-toed shoes and I properly stretched for the day so my back doesn't seize up.

And no needles.

No more nonsense.

2010-07-19T17:52:00.000-07:00

Enough of the craziness that happened on this blog last week.

ENOUGH. CRAZINESS.

Here are some cat photos to ease you through your week without me. It'll be a long, dark time while I'm gone, but rest assured that I know you can do it.

Cinnamon has had a very hard life in this perfect weather.

Suki didn't care that I was in the middle of New Moon.

That cat does not care one ounce for sparkly vampires.

And here's a bonus photo I took of the moon the other night. I was thinking romantic thoughts of you, Internet, as I looked at it.

One lucky commenter will get a post card from me from San Diego. Fyi, that means you have to comment, STEVE.

Maybe you should go to the gym instead of eating that.

2010-07-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

You guys. My mind is useless for a blog.

Comic Con.

Comic Con.

Comic Con.

But most importantly?

VACATION. And to those inquiring minds, Comic Con is a big convention that started out like a million years ago for comic books. It's become a lot more than that, bringing vendors from all sorts of media to it, like movies. Jesse is going for the comic books. I'm going for the ladies. Kidding. I'm going for the t-shirts.

And the ladies.

I must find something else to talk about.

Well.

Here's a picture of a homeless guy an old friend of mine took while he was driving. It's okay, there was no law against that then.

His sign says "See if you can hit me with quarters."

With my Ford Escort #1, the odometer only had five digits. Meaning that someday I would drive it to 100,000 miles and it would just be 0 again. I had been awaiting the day it my car's mileage would start over, as it were, and one fateful night it happened. I was in the car with my friend Tony, driving to St. Johns when it slowly rolled on over to zero.

This is the email I sent my parents with that picture back in 2006:

"Check it out, dawgs. However, that last number does look like a five. But it's not. And see how the speed is at zero? It's because I STOPPED ON A BRIDGE."

First of all, yes, I still call my parents "dawgs" and second of all, my friend wasn't the least bit enthused we stopped on a bridge. I don't mean like "Oh, careful for the bridge, you might fall in the creek (or crick)" kind of bridge. But there was no one behind us, CALM DOWN. He didn't UNDERSTAND. The Blue Bullet was starting over!!!

Fourth of all, how did my mom not have a heart attack with all these cryptic emails I sent her about stopping on bridges and the like? Oh man, I read the whole thread from my sister for that email and she had said, "I can't believe you stopped on a bridge. I only do that to light cigarettes or open a beer."

Not long after that, Ford Escort #1 stopped. As in, no more go. I donated it to the Diabetus Association. Yes I know I spelled it wrong. I pronounce diabetes like an old man.

And here's a toothpastefordinner.com comic:

That's all for today, folks. I'll be here next week to disappoint you some more.

Okay, you convinced me. Here's a picture from Brittney's wedding a couple years ago when we all helped her pee while in her wedding dress.

Independence Day. Where we blew stuff up.

2010-07-12T20:43:00.000-07:00

I've been something we call "lazy" around these parts. These pictures have been on the computer just waiting for resizing and to be posted. Instead, I've been sitting around reading Twilight.

"I usually don't have a burger, a brat, and a steak but, it is 4th of July. And I need the energy if I'm gonna start blowin crap up. It's what the founding fathers would want."
--Jim Gaffigan

For Independence Day (Will Smith), Jesse and I traveled to Cottage Grove to hang out with my sister's in-laws. I've never ridden a quad before, and because I like making a fool of myself, it was the first thing I did there.

We then did crafts, because hey, I like crafts. First we made "angels".

Or "angles" as some might type, however mine is just a girl. Making a hair fashion statement.

Those wings were frustratingly hard to put on.

Then the Smith family (my sister and her husband, I can't believe I have to explain this to you, where have you BEEN) had a water balloon fight. Here is my niece Jasmine looking awfully adorable.

Oh, and here is one of Christy smashing a water balloon in Jasmine's face. You may need to click on it to get the full effect.

I went inside to check on Mikey later on, as he was supposed to have changed his clothes. I heard something that sounded a lot like a naked 6 year old jumping on the bed, and alas, I was right. We finally got him to put some shorts on.

My little stingray.

And then we painted shirts to be all patriotic up in here.

We blew stuff up.

And then we came home and had a heat wave. The cats haven't been doing much.

Do you like how I say the cats haven't been doing much? As in I often find them doing useful things?

Also, no, I did not read myself a children's book and then go to bed. That is ridunkulous.

Oh, and I saved the best for last.

P.S.

I finished Twilight. Which means SPOILER. As though you don't know everything about Twilight already.

Was anyone ELSE annoyed with how stupid they made Edward seem when he showed his "true form" in the movie, but it wasn't nearly as lame in the book? In the movie he has the whole "You will see me in my scary monster form, inhale, large sigh" but in the book he was all casual about it. And he was a little less emo about the whole thing in the book. He was happy just to be around Bella. Okay, I know it's not the most amazingly written book, but considering a stay at home mom got the writing itch and just went with it? Not so bad, you dig?

And did you know if you misspell marital it can become martial? Talk about a strange conversation. Oh, irony! I just misspelled misspell up there.

The day of our independence. And, what's that? More talk of Jillian Michaels?

2010-07-07T09:33:00.000-07:00

I've created a monster.

Jesse had us up at 6 am to work out today. Well, he was up, I was still moaning and whining in bed. Homeboy was PUMPED. I do have to say, having my husband as a workout partner is the best. He's constantly saying "your butt looks great!" and "you're so cute!" and "I just can't get over how adorable you are right now!" even though I'm disgusting at that moment. I'm one of those head sweaters (as apposed to a sweater for a head) and sweat is flinging and dripping in the most unattractive matter. You know how men sweat, women glisten? Sure. But not Katie. I do believe I mentioned in a previous post that I got some sweat on Suki as she was rubbing up against my post-Shredding self.

I have to say that I am really enjoying this workout (the 30 Day Shred if you are just tuning in, and, why?). When I did workouts at the gym, my back would always hurt after being on the elliptical. But with this workout, my back doesn't hurt at all. My feet sure hurt when I work out in the morning (not in the evening when I'm all warmed up), but I need to get better shoes. And then there's that guy I was talking about who doesn't seem to mind rubbing my clammy feet after a workout. I know, who is this guy?

Another thing is, I think Jillian is very nice during the workout. I mean, she can't very well shout out in the tape, "Come on, big boobs, you can do better than that!" Then again, we are still on Level 1. Dark and dangerous roads lie ahead in Levels 2 and 3. But people give her a bad rep. The only thing she says in Level 1 that is pushy is that you CAN do jumping jacks. "I have 400 pound people doing jumping jacks, so can you." I had my doubts, but as it turns out, I can indeed do jumping jacks. See? It worked.

Topic #2, FOURTH OF JULY.

And there we are. Actually, I don't have pictures uploaded. No fourth of July photos. I'm sorry, Chelle, Independence Day photos. Someone doesn't like it when they just refer to the day itself as the holiday. Holiday. Celebrate. And who loves herself some Independence Day Will Smith? Me.

Topic #3, TWILIGHT.

I started reading the first Twilight book. Please don't judge me just yet. And I do have to say, in the movie (spoiler maybe?) she falls for him immediately. It's like, Edward loves her and she's suddenly like "I love you too!" But in the book she's infatuated with him from the beginning, which makes a big difference. In the movie she didn't even seem interested and then she starts using words like irrevocably and unconditionally in love? Naw. The book approaches it better, in my opinion.

Okay, and is anyone else annoyed with the new acronym IMHO? In my humble opinion? Every time someone uses that they kind of offend me with what they have to say next. I was reading this post on how this guy said he had no social life because of his kids. He wasn't saying he regretted having kids or anything. He was just trying to be funny, and succeeding. And then a woman commented "IMHO, I think that's how it's supposed to be. You choose your children over a social life." Not so humble was it? Kind of rude maybe?

But then again, that's just my humble opinion.

Suki, Cinnamon also makes that face while cleaning himself.

2010-07-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

A while ago I wrote about how I was trying to pay off our credit cards for vacation to Comic Con. I did that, like, immediately after. In case you were wondering.

Secondly, I'm trying to come up with some spending money for the trip. Most the money we will have will be going towards gas and food. A friend recently asked me if I was taking any spending money. On a vacation. That we've been planning for months.

I don't know, is this a weird question to anyone else? "Oh, you're going on vacation? You taking any spending money?" "Oh, no. You know, the hotel is costing so much already." I understand not having much money to spend, but isn't spending money a given for planned vacations such as these?

"Oh, driving 19 hours, eh? Gonna do anything when you're down there? Or, just... sit in your hotel room and think of how far you driven?"

NINETEEN HOURS. Of course I'm going to buy all sorts of useless garbage on that trip.

I'll be at a gas station in northern California at 2 am asking the person parked ahead of me if they would help me with the pump because I'm on vacation and forgot how to set it because I'm from Oregon and everyone is asleep in the car 8 more hours to go until Portland do you know I went to Comic Con look at this collection of 40 bobble heads I bought [insert maniacal laugh].

Spending money. Puh-leaz.

Anyway. Back to coming up with spending money. We owned a Wii Fit. I think you can tell where this is going with the word "owned". I confessed to Jesse I've been thinking about selling it for a long while now, but haven't had a reason to. And hello, Comic Con. I would love to give you money. When I told this to Jesse, he did what we call "not take the news well". He thought we should keep it, yadda bla bla. I said I haven't used it in forever (possibly literally), and I prefer the 30 Day Shred (I don't know why) or Dance Dance Revolution. He was still having a hard time with it, but it was mine so he let me sell it. But before the guy came over to buy it, he decided to step up on that Wii Fit board one last time.

Some of you may know where this is going.

"Hello, Jesse! It has been 404 days since your last session." When Jesse sent that to me over text, I didn't actually know what I was looking at because I thought he had sent me an error message. Nerds know what I'm talking about.

Needless to say, he was cool with me selling it after that.

And how many times do you think he has mentioned buying dinner with the money? Well, it's just vacation. I guess we don't need to take any spending money.

I have no new pictures for you. That's from our first anniversary. Yeah, I know, not very interesting.

Some of you may not know this, but I am a biggest fan.

That's right!

I'm going to share a secret with you, that you mustn't tell anyone. People love getting resumes for fake things. I.e, a biggest fan resume and a granddaughter resume. There is no fake resume that I have typed up where I did not achieve my goal. There's lots of real resumes that never did the trick, but we are not focusing on that. Of course, you have to have the type of personality to grovel, which may not be your thing.

But it is mine. Which is how I became Amy's biggest fan.

My friend Amy is a writer. Her name is A.B. Keuser. Even though I just said it was Amy. Follow along, people. Actually, you can follow her Facebook page here. Support me by supporting her. Okay, yes, she is unpublished, but that is where you come in. Follow her Facebook page. And her blog is here.

Sorry, no cats today I guess. However, last night Cinnamon was sitting on the couch pouting because I wasn't sharing my sandwich and Suki came and laid right next to him. Like, touching. Cinnamon was not pleased with this development at first. And then Suki did something I've wanted them to do since forever. She started cleaning Cinnamon! And then immediately had to do that "ugh, Cinnamon, that was a lot of hair" thing with her tongue and stopped. But the moment was beautiful while it lasted.

Okay, have a wonderful 4th of July! Let's not forget that this is a pretty awesome country to live in, with the fact that I have to sell my Wii Fit for money for Comic Con. And I have nothing to complain about that.

I think Susan's blog title is from a Britney Spears song, but you won't find that here.

2010-06-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

Can anyone find a picture of Jillian Michaels when she was chubby? Because I can't.

Oops, I lied.

Okay, who's becoming a little too obsessed with Jillian Michaels?

Moving forward...

I sat down (on the toilet, if you were wondering) and figured out how to get that fifth petal on those flower fridgies. I think they go perfectly with our Pac Man and starfish and Marvel superhero magnets. Which, if it weren't for Jesse, I wouldn't know the difference between Marvel and DC. Fyi? There's a big difference.

Anyway. I can add "crochet" to my crafting resume. Which I will have my mom type up for me promptly, after I apologize to her for writing on my blog about crocheting on the toilet.

In all fairness, I knit on the toilet too. But not if there's some fancy pattern. A washcloth, maybe, but not a glove.

Mom? Is that resume done?

Okay, Suki:

Cinnamon:

This is a picture of Cinnamon on SUSAN's porch. I've also seen Suki lounging there as well, but she has the wherewithal to flee the scene before photographic evidence can be made.

Well, this was nice and all but I have some Crash Bandicoot to play.

A little less knit, a little more crochet

2010-06-28T18:19:00.000-07:00

So The Jilted Ballerina made a post dedicated to me, and in true wooing fashion, I did whatever she asked.

An improperly crocheted flower fridgie! I left out a petal somehow, but oh well. I guess I didn't need to point out my failure, did I? She posted a video here, for those of you crochet illiterate like me, and she is a very good instructor. And in the least creepy way to say this, she has very nice hands.

I tried over and over again to crochet with some cotton yarn that would have had great colors, but I suffer from S.H.W.L.N.T.S. (Sweaty Hands When Learning New Things Syndrome) and boy howdy, sweat-tee. So I switched to that mystery green yarn and bam, the eggs are in the egg drawer.

Oh, and to clarify from my last post, my husband had to ask what a "crip" was, and I told him I was referencing bloods and crips (two separate gangs), and how the Fat Bridesmaid was wearing a dark bandanna, which I assumed to be blue, and then assumed she was a gang member. I realize now not everyone knows these things about gangs in the blogosphere. Which, why do I know these things? I do not understand. I can't tell you anything about Greek mythology or fractions, but I can tell you all sorts of gang history and zombie facts. And hypothetically how to bargain for a beer in Mexico.

So on Saturday night and Sunday night I bamboozled Jesse into doing the 30 Day Shred with me. On Saturday when I had done it twice, I was feeling AWESOME. The next day? HORRID. Jeesh, Jillian. I'm even cheating through some of it by taking longer than a 5 second break. But I do have to say I'm feeling great throughout the day.

We installed our air conditioner units yesterday, which actually means that my dad came over and installed our air conditioner units yesterday. Have I mentioned how handy my dad is? He's awfully handy. And he'll gripe about fixing something for you, but you can see that light in his eye when you ask him to fix a problem. My father's name is Mark and he loves PVC pipe, pocket knives, and complaining about fixing things. His dislikes are kidney stones and fixing things.

Thinking of fixing things makes Dad feel:

And let's welcome Nan to the vast following on my blog!

AAAHHHH RABBITS.

2010-06-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

New followers, people!

Okay, first of all let's welcome Shelley. She hails from I Miss My Sanity and blogs about her animals often. Why are other people's pets so interesting? They're not, you say? Stop posting about my cats? YOU KNOW YOU LOVE THEM.

Next is The Jilted Ballerina. She's crafty. But probably not like ice is cold. She's set on getting me to crochet, and if you saw my computer desk right now, you would know she is winning.

Next up is what's her face. I forgot her name. How rude am I to call someone what's her face? FINE, I'll go look it up. It's Erin from the Mother Load! It was love at first sight with this post. Don't tell Jesse there are women who even pretend to do chores in a little black dress. Although I don't know how hot scooping the litter box wearing high heels can really be.

Which, speaking of the litter box. On Thursday something came in the mail. Something horrible. Something that would....ruin my night.

Oh, Jillian. I thought I liked you.

But what's the best is when I was googling for that picture, I came across this one of a girl after her first 30 Day Shred work out.

Didn't want that posted on my ever-increasing in popularity blog? Too bad.

Oddly enough, it looked a lot like my photo!

And who was totally not going to post that picture until that chick up there, who is apparently a crip, posted hers?

Okay, I assure you that my photo only looks better than the other girl's because of the lighting in the living room. I was disgusting myself with the sweat falling everywhere. Suki started rubbing up against my legs during my cool down and some sweat dripped down on her and who started to hate her owner?

Oh, I just realized that is the Fat Bridesmaid! I don't think she would mind it so much anymore. Way to ruin the embarrassment, Fat Bridesmaid.

Oh, that's right, I was speaking of the litter box. I got up Friday morning and thought to myself, "Well look at that! Only my arms hurt! Even though I could barely walk myself to bed last night because my legs were shaking so much!" And then I squatted down to clean the litter box and bam.

Jillian and I aren't on speaking terms.

However, last night I fell asleep at the rambunctious hour of 9pm, because, hello. I'm a 23 year old partier who stays up until 9pm on Friday nights. So this morning I got to hang out with Jillian again! Lucky me!

Fortunately for me I'm making Jesse do the video with me tonight. Because after we got up this morning, and I started exercising, who went back to bed?

**Edit - Please note those are JESSE'S legs in the following photo. He was afraid they looked too girly and people would think they were mine. He is like George Michael on Arrested Development when GOB needed "legs" for his saw-the-girl-in-half trick and he repeats "I'm okay with myself, I'm okay with myself."

Was it everyone but me?

Hmmm, Jillian?

P.S.
It's starting to finally get hot here in Portland. I found poor Suki camping out in front of the fan.

She took my spot!

Go ahead and take the time to notice my TWO. NEW. FOLLOWERS!

2010-06-23T15:49:00.000-07:00

We haven't seen slugs in about a week. I haven't mentioned it because not thinking about it has been helping. You know when you get some sort of infestation in your house (no? You're not disgusting like me?) and suddenly every little fleck could be an ant (or FLEAS, barf)? It's like that. You remember from the horrible photos. They were the same color as the shower walls so every time I go into the bathroom I open up the shower curtain, ready to go on a rampage. But it's been okay guys, calm down.

HEY! You. Yes, you, stalking me. I know who you are, and you should stop waiting for Susan to post regularly to come out of hiding and start following MEEEEEE. Jesse and Cinnamon sleepily plead with you in the photo above.

IN THE MEANTIME (Jessica), craft night is resuming tonight. Jenna will be joining Susan and I. Okay, well, that's all there was for that paragraph.

Over here at Bye Bye, Pie, some of us decided to do Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred because we hate ourselves. I say this even though I have not received my dvd in the mail, so I don't really know what I'm talking about. But I did do some Dance Dance Revolution to "prep" myself, and HOLY COW WHO IS OUT OF SHAPE? I don't talk about my weight on this blog, except for that little blurp to the right where I stated I weigh 120 pounds "give or take a few dozen". Now, the give or take might be a little modest. It's more like "add 80 pounds and cry a little inside". But I don't get down on myself about my weight too often (I bet Jesse begs to differ with that statement) because a wonderful addition to that weight gain was a butt. Because the women in my family tend to be, how you say, "top heavy". As in, we were out with friends one time and I went to the bathroom and on the way back my friend's husband said to her "woooah, that chick has huge boobs" and she said to her husband "that's Katie!" and he said "don't tell her I said that" and hello internet, meet that story.

So, anyway, I might blog about it some. But it's definitely not going to turn into a health blog because a few weeks ago my sister was reading a bio on some animator chick who said she loved peas and bacon and I said "So she eats healthy" which was surprisingly not said condescendingly. To which Susan said, "One of those was bacon! That's not healthy!" And I retorted, "One of those things is never in my diet." "Good point," said the defeated Susan, looking up at me while I sat highly on my steed.

Someone misses her Brittney :(

"His fahza, Dr. Evil." "His farger? What's a farger? I don't speak freaky-deaky Dutch." "Fahza, his dad, dad is fahza." "Oh, his dad. His FA-THER."

2010-06-20T13:52:00.000-07:00

Approximately 59 years ago, my father was not a father. He was more like a month or two old. But even then, I knew. Someday he would be my dad.

That's my mom and dad. He was already working towards being a dad there, for the ultimate goal of having kids until they had the perfect one (me) and then stopping to raise said children.

Hey Dad.

You're not nearly as grumpy as you're made out to be.

And I know the term is like a million years old now, but I totally caught you taking these photos of yourself in true Myspace fashion.

Dad has had the privilege of being mentioned in a few childhood stories on my blog. For some reason, my mom hasn't, because she never threatened me to eat a moldy sandwich and never told me to eat my diarrhea. But he is the one who told me it's not what you want that makes you fat, it's what you get.

When I was in high school we lived in a "mobile home" (do not say the word trailer to my dad) and Cinnamon used to get stuck on the roof all the time. Stupid cat. I would (dad would) get out the ladder and I'd have to get up there and stupid Cinnamon would be so happy to see me he'd start rolling around and rubbing against my hand but never letting me grab him to get him down. He is still there today.

Okay, that's a picture I found online. The only basketball hoop I had fit over a trashcan.

Less than a year after moving to Portland, my parents decided to move to the same area, because it is the best area in Portland. A year after Jesse and I got married, Mom and Dad moved into these ADORABLE duplexes. So, uh, we moved there too.

One day my dad called me and told me to come outside. I came over and stood by him in front of his house.

"You know," he said, "when you moved away and took all your stuff, I never thought we'd be living this close to each other and that you'd drop in on us and bring over your friends from high school (Brittney lived across the street at this time) and that YOUR CAT WOULD BE ON MY ROOF."

And, sure enough, there was that cat.

He is still there today.

So, thanks, Dad, for being my dad and for not being a weirdo or anything.

Baaaahhhhh (sorry to be so frustrating)

2010-06-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to talk about. Let us proceed with the post stating otherwise...

I came home from work the other day to this:

Had Jesse disintegrated?

"My apartment is infested with koala bears. It's the cutest infestation ever. Way better than cockroaches. When I turn on the light, a bunch of koala bears scatter, but I don't want them to. I'm like, 'Hey... Hold on fellows... Let me hold one of you, and feed you a leaf.' Koala bears are so cute, why do they have to be so far away from me. We need to ship a few over, so I can hold one, and pat it on its head."

Mitch Hedberg

So, Amy had to be all, "Slugs aren't so bad, I've had to kill three scorpions so far in my new place." Indeed, Amy. Indeed. It's too bad Amy and I stopped being friends, isn't it? No one likes perspective, Amy.

I never had an issue with slugs. It's kind of like raccoons. I never had a problem with those adorable little faces. But? When they move in under your house and have babies? And eat all your cat's food? And make the most HORRIFIC NOISES? They lose their cuteness. And talk about a not at all stressful time for my parents.

Brittney and Bracken moved away from us :( Which means Brittney has to update her blog regularly so I know what the heck is going on in their lives. Because I'm apparently extremely nosy.

Okay, here's pictures I took of Cinnamon when he fell asleep on the couch.

Hairy toes!

And then he woke up and looked very jarred. See the spread toes?

And then I didn't think Suki was going to let me in to my own house.

"Sorry, but a toll is a toll, and a roll is a roll, and if we don't get no tolls, then we don't eat no rolls."

Remember that line? Robin Hood: Men in Tights? Which was way more entertaining than the real Robin Hood?

"I opened up a yogurt, underneath the lid it said, "Please try again" because they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I opened the yogurt wrong. ...Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me... "Come on Mitchell, don't give up!" An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait, fruit on the bottom, hope on top."
Mitch Hedberg

Iron Maiden is for the infestation

2010-06-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

A while ago Jesse and I were at Target and we saw this little "you are Iron Man" mirror thing in the toy section. It had Iron Man's body on the mirror and you put your head where his head should be. I told Jesse to squat down. Now, Jesse has this long torso. Like, really, really long torso. Homeboy is mostly torso, and a smidgen of legs. He won't be happy with me when he reads my description of his body. His shoulders kept appearing in the shot, because if you can believe this, they only made the display tall enough for kids. He was getting all frustrated with me saying over and over again "Lower. No, lower." And he got up in a huff and had me do it. He said to me, "You need to grab my head and put me in place, like this." And he proceeded to shove my head further into my neck in front of the children and their parents in the toy aisle. You can see how excited I was to still be a Target shopper.

Next up was Jesse, and I delightfully shoved his head into the right spot in the mirror. Can you tell by these photos that we were SO DONE trying to be Iron Man and Maiden and just wanted to get out of the store, but no, we must finish what we started?

Good times with the Bray folk. Come and knock on my door...

Okay. You guys. That was what I was going to write about today. But do you know what happened last night? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED? Of course you do. You see where this is going.

They're baaaaaaaaaaack. Suki was ready for her nighttime snack of licking water in the tub and as I leaned over to turn on the water I was like, SLUG. SLUG. SLUG. And Jesse came in and SLUG. Four of them this time. We think they're coming in from the window. I'm still not 100% convinced that's what it is, but it's either that or the drain and I have to sleep at night somehow. I just wish our stupid bathroom had a fan. Can you put a makeshift fan in the bathroom somehow for when you take showers and you don't want mold all over your ceiling? Please advise.

We did decide, however, this was a good time to clean out the drain following my good friend Martha's advise from this book. She tries to kill you slowly with chores.

First we put in baking soda.

Then white vinegar which we repeatedly said "It smells like feet" until we were no longer amused with ourselves.

Then it foamed.

Then you stopped caring what we were doing to our drain and clicked to another website.

Then you pour boiling water down the drain. Turns out? Boiling water just fogs up the camera and makes all my followers go "thank goodness she stopped posting photos of this nonsense."

And then Suki got VERY, VERY ANGRY that we were not letting her in the tub. Note the ears. I gave her some treats in hopes she wouldn't pee all over my stuff while I slept.

Well, on a lighter note, my cats are still cute and annoying:

So, what's new with you? No slugs in your perfect little world? I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT.

Just kidding, I do. GO ON.

Oh, one more thing, unless you want to get depressed with your cleaning skills, don't take lots of pictures of your shower with the flash on.

Portland, we have a problem.

2010-06-03T16:05:00.000-07:00

Jesse and I are going to Comic Con next month with some friends. Yes, I know, you should be jealous, yadda yadda yadda. What I'm trying to say is we are paying off one particular credit card right before we go so we can rack it up at Comic Con. So, I'm trying to save some money.

I am in love with the Clorox toilet wand.

DID YOU HEAR ME TOILET WAND? I said I love you. But you are not as cheap as other methods of toilet wandiness. Six replacement wands are something over $4. But a container of Comet and a new toilet brush? Just over $2. And it cleans the tub. Not the toilet brush. I guess you could use the toilet brush to clean the tub, but please don't invite me over to shower at your place. Because, you know, those shower invites. All the rage.

Jesse and I got back from Grants Pass on Monday and I cleaned the bathroom with my new Comet cleaner. I was scrubbing the bathtub and pulling down all the junk we keep in the corners of the tub to wipe underneath them.

I pulled out my face wash.

And I was greeted by the newest resident of the Bray household.

Okay, so that's a picture I found on google. My face wash is not a leaf on cement. But his cousin was in my bathtub. Well, his slightly thinner cousin. Sorry, tubbo, you were the best I could find online.

I would have taken a photo but I was too busy asking Jesse, "Do those look like eggs?" I even said, "Poor little slug" as Jesse flushed him down the toilet and we (he) wiped off his disgusting eggs from my facewash.

Fast forward to last night. Jesse is in the shower, doing the thing where he has a song in his head but only sings like every 5th line. I'm on the couch flipping through a Pottery Barn catalog looking at ideas to rip off when Jesse shouts "BUUUUH!!" I RAN to his side, meaning I flipped through a couple more pages, said "What is it, honey" and when he couldn't hear me I dog eared the page (amidst a sigh) and mosied into the bathroom.

"There's a big ole slug in here and I think it's pooping."

I popped my head in the shower and while Jesse's sight was dead set on the slug in front of him and his MILLION DEMON EGGS that had just come out of his butt, I noticed another on the rim of the tub and another in the window. I calmly told him to turn off the water and REMOVE YOUR PERSON FROM THE DEVIL SLUG TUB.

There were three! TTTHHHHRREEEEEE. I had uttered "Poor little slug" to the thin cousin while he laughed his way down that toilet. "My children will be back to avenge me, you strumpet!" he gurgled.

You won this time. One of those little beasts pooped some eggs out on the shower curtain liner too. WE ARE LIVING IN THE JUNGLE. The Slug Shower Jungle of Suburbia.

So do you think everyone in our house is just relaxed as pie to go into the bathroom? Even Suki is like "nah, I'll just drink the water from the bowl you leave me every morning." Why's that, Suki? You don't want aqua a la slug? You know, I don't think she's much of a huntress anyway. Cinnamon keeps psyching me out, making me think he's done with that wild behavior of leaving me dead animals, and then he does something like LEAVE ME A HEADLESS BIRD. Does he have to be such a...an animal sometimes?

And dear lord, where was the head? That bird haunted me. I remember when I opened up the door to let Cin in and I saw the dead bird next to him, he looked at the bird, then at me with this look that said, "Are you going to thank me, or..."

RIP the good ole days. (This picture was taken October 14, 2009. We hadn't had Suki for more than a few days and after I got out of the shower she hopped right in and started licking the tub, much to my disgust. I sent this photo to Jesse via my phone.)

OKAY BYE BYE

All quiet on the western front. (pull my finger)

2010-06-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

I can hear you all thinking "I wonder how Katie's trip to Grants Pass went?" Well, Jesse was there too, did you even think about that? But I'll go ahead and answer you.

There was a parade.

BAGPIPES

There was much eating.

Let's not tell Melissa that the only picture I have of her on my blog is of her eating, shall we?

Which means that while we passed the time, Jesse passed some gas.

Seriously. That guy. He's lucky he's cute and I love him and that he's a great husband. Otherwise? Stinky.

And do you know there are NO YARN STORES IN GRANTS PASS?

Woah, I just crawled back into my chair after the collective gasp from all of you sucked the air out of my lungs.

And there's Darin (Jesse's uncle), on the City Council float. I took some horrible photos. I got one that actually has the City Council sign, but he's not smiling, and in fact, looks rather grumpy. The next one he is in the very far bottom left corner and the rest is sky. So this was the one. How the sky knew I wanted it to point an arrow at him with his name, I may never know.

Oh, and here's one of the joys of living in a small town.

Caveman Towing brought out the big guns and towed all of their trucks. I think it was like 15. I don't know, I was too busy taking bad photos.

Jesse took this good shot though. He also took a lot of horrible shots that I guess he doesn't feel like he ever needs to delete, ever.

One of the downsides of taking most of the pictures is that there aren't many of me. Let me show you the two that were taken of me (that weren't of me with knitting needles in my mouth looking like a walrus, sorry).

Hey. He tries.

So the cats didn't come with us this weekend, because we had a discussion beforehand about how Cinnamon thinks he's old enough to stay home alone and watch Suki. The plus side of this was that Cinnamon, only out of necessity, actually buried some of Suki's poop instead of just letting it sit on top of the litter. What was that sound? Was that the sound of losing a reader by talking about cat poop?

Okay, is there some sort of correlation between how a cat has a litter of kittens (I almost typed a liter. Do some cats have two liters maybe? Certainly not a gallon) and how they use a litter box? Jesse mentioned that to me and I found it hysterical. But I'm also the person that never put any thought into the words pony tail and hula hoop. (Did you know when you're using a hula hoop it's almost like you're dancing the...oh, never mind. EVERYBODY ALREADY KNEW THAT.)

ANYWAY, back on target Katie (Steve), that above photo of Cinnamon is from when we had the GREAT ANT DEPRESSION OF TWO THOUSAND TEN. The bottom shelf on the red bookcase back there used to be Suki's eating area until ants found it. Then ants found the mario table cat food so we moved it in front of the armoir. We wanted them to have a good view of Arrested Development and Futurama.

Should I keep him?

Yes [ ]

Yes, farting is part of better or worse [ ]

Were 'for better or worse' even in our vows? I only remember me stammering.

Never make a pretty person your wife.

2010-05-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

See? Groveling DOES work. It has helped me get cats, McDonald's, a husband, and three extra followers. Joann started pity-following me, and I think Steve's wife made him follow me, and Jenna made her husband Nick follow me. Joann's blog and Steve's blog have been some of my favorites for a while, but I wasn't following Nick's because I'm a bad friend. Maybe if I wouldn't be so concerned with followers, you say? I can't hear you.

Oh, but Nick wins the dollar. Sorry. I'd send all of my followers a dollar, but that's pushing 20 bucks and do you know how much Taco Bell you can get for 20 dollars? If you don't, you must be eating at those fancy restaurants like those elusive "buffets" I keep hearing about. And GOOD LORD, when did buffets become so expensive? They were so much cheaper when I was a kid and didn't know how much they cost. Jesse and I took my niece and nephew Michael and Jasmine to Hometown Buffet and they had a big sign out front that said adult meals were $6.99*. That *? Said does not include drink. Oh, but you're going to charge me a buck fifty for a drink anyway? So you're lying to me, kind of. I cannot read the writing under the * from the road. This is not a good review for Hometown Buffet. I understand $7.49 wasn't bad for an adult meal. Just keep reading.

Last Christmas we visited Jesse's family. His grandparents kept asking me where I wanted to go to lunch. "Well, honey, what kind of food do you like?" I kept saying anything was fine, but no, they wanted something I liked. Over and over again.

"Really, I don't know any of the restaurants here, you guys choose."

"No, where do you want to eat?"

"Okay... Mexican."

"Oh, okay! Well, Neil probably wouldn't do well with Mexican. We'll go to a buffet."

That buffet was 12 dollars per person. We had paid for Jesse's sister Jaime's meal and when she came to the table with just a plate of salad I said to her, "Oh, how's your $12 salad? YOU BETTER BE KIDDING ME AND GO GET SOME REAL FOOD." I may have embellished that last part, but I did ask her how her 12 dollar salad was. When we had all walked in, Jesse's grandpa pulled out $40 to pay for us all and I was like, "No, no, I understand your stomach is too delicate for Mexican food, but we'll pay for our own." Yikes! Is the senior discount $2 a meal? I ate macaroni and cheese and lukewarm cheesecake. Oh, and? That won't give you diahrrea at all, not in the least bit. (Eat your diahrrea.)

I do like how old people are sweet like that, even though they know they have already decided what they want. I did not know the politics of old people because I have no grandparents. Mom and Dad, you are NOT OLD. When you start denying me Mexican food, you will be old. Keep your chops up. My mom has always thought I think they're "old" because they were 35 when they had me, but what that really made happen was I started making friends who were married and in their 30's by the time I was 19. What teenage only child?

Okay, yeah, where was I? I thought I had a point, but time makes fools of us all.

HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND. We will be in Grants Pass, Oregon partying it up within the retirement community. That's right, Judi. I know you're like 15 years younger than my parents. Judi is Jesse's aunt. Judi makes me mad. It's okay, I can say this because, as she states, she only comes to my blog when she's bored, and leaves even more bored. This is Judi and myself.

And you thought I was finishing up this blog post! LOOK AT HOW CUTE JUDI IS. I'm all stressed out trying to be attractive and she just casually turns around and looks all "Oh hello! What a surprise you're taking a picture!"

One time Judi was visiting us in Portland and she came to pick me up for lunch. Later in the week, a coworker of mine was talking to me and asked if that had been Jesse's sister.

His sister.

I told her this amazing, wonderful compliment and she didn't even acknowledge it. But maybe she didn't have her hearing aid on.

But she is SO DOWN with Mexican food.

Beggin'.

2010-05-25T14:58:00.000-07:00

Will someone new please start following me? I'll mail you a dollar. Jesse created another Blogger account to follow me with, named "Señor McBray". At least, this is what he told me until I looked and saw he was indeed not Señor, but Senior. Not really what I think he was going for. Long story short yet am I still talking? I made him delete old Senior there. However, my dashboard keeps saying I have 15 followers and when I click and see it's only 14, I die a little inside.

Jesse and I went to Bullwinkle's to play mini golf, like, I don't know how long ago. Good thing you don't care that much.

Slug bug yellow! We may have forgotten to take the camera inside and had to wait until we were leaving.

If you are ever at Chuck E. Cheese, or one of those places where after winning all those useless little tickets you are forced to not be "selfish" and to give your tickets to the kids in your group (jerks), GO TO THE SPONGEBOB GAME. I am talking business right now. You will master it, and you will be the king chicken, or something. With my ticket earnings, we got a crayon bank, fake orange teeth, and a green heart shaped bracelet. Here I was trying to show off my bracelet. And our blue lips from drinking an Icee.

But really, let's just focus in on Jesse for a moment.

Jesse. Available for babysitting at a time convenient for you.

Pity marriage? You'd be wrong, because he married this.

Which, oddly enough, also included Brittney. And this:

Jesse saw a whole series like that last photo of Cinnamon and I touching noses and cuddling and he just sat there and said, "Are you and Cinnamon dating?"

He may have a point.

Fancy buts. (butts)

2010-05-21T16:46:00.000-07:00

I am supposed to make a clarification. This picture from the last post?

That ominous shadow above my left ankle? I am here to tell you that that is in fact NOT a stain. It is a shadow from when Jesse took the picture. He saw my post and didn't want you all to think we live like animals, what with knitting garments and leaking on the couch.

Last night Jesse and I drove around and came across this adorable park with lots of fake grass.

Awww, see the hand holding? Okay, what ethnicity are we? It's difficult, I know. But seriously, WHERE CAN I GET GRASS LIKE THIS. Do you have to maintain it? Maintain fake grass? I may not be interested anymore.

Me: "Look at all the geese! They all look so calm!"

Jesse: "You're kidding me, right?"

Me: "What?"

Jesse: "Those are all fake."

Me: "Go pretend to feed one."

Does someone in this photo think that someone in this photo is hilarious? Oh, but the guy playing golf didn't? THAT'S what all that fake grass was about? Sorry. Thanks for shooting a small hard golf ball towards me just because I was in your way.

This was my victory stance. I made Jesse take so many pictures of me doing this that I would feel it a waste if I didn't post one. Sorry.

When we got home from the park, we had one of those "married people" boring discussions in the car. You know the kind, the kind where "no, you started saying something important and if you don't finish it right now we'll never discuss it inside." Sometimes Jesse makes me act like an adult. What is up with him? But anyway, who got impatient with us?

And who still gets excited when the cat she's owned since she was 8 shows her attention? Who should stop talking in third person? Is this third person? Or is it just what the literary majors call not interesting?

Oh how I love Cinnamon's fuzzy butt. You know his butt hole never shows up in pictures? I know that's not something most people would appreciate, but I am not most people.

Suki's butt on the other hand? Not as modest.

Someone say Suki butt? Does this cat ever walk anywhere? It's like I pick her up and put her someplace new to go into a coma.

Oh, that's right! The father of twelvedaysold, more like, twentyonethousandninehundreddaysold (sorry, Dad) is celebrating his birthday today!

Happy birthday, Dad!

That's how he wants you to think he looks. When in reality, he looks like this:

Her name was Cobra.

2010-05-17T15:55:00.000-07:00

I finished those socks!

And I am loving how thin they make my ankles look in photos. Thank you, socks. You're alright. Is alright a real word? Should it be all right? June?

Suki pulled me aside the other day and told me that Cinnamon has been getting too much exposure on the blog, and that she has been getting the shaft. Where she learned the word "shaft" I have no idea. I, of course, immediately turned on the defense and said to her, "Well, you're the one not posing for pictures! Hold still when I pull out the camera! At least until I figure out how to change the shutter speed!"

We settled down, obviously, as I am still here with only a few scratches. Which, dang, Jesse showed me a little "fun" game she likes to play where you put your hands under the covers and she has no idea what it is moving around in there. Have any of you read the Frog and Toad books? There's one story where either Frog or Toad (can't remember) is trying to sleep but there are these mysterious bumps towards the bottom of his bed. But when he looks under the covers, just his feet are down there! He is so distraught he goes downstairs to sit in his chair with a blanket, but the bumps follow him there too!

It's like that, except Suki LUNGES under the covers with her claws out, immediately pricking the tippy top of my finger and making me a total pansy in front of my husband.

Which, regarding the Frog and Toad books, I loved those books. Loved them! They had such cute stories! But I remember reading the whole "bumps under the cover" thing thinking, come ON! It's your feet, you moron! There was also another story where Toad didn't have enough water for tea (I'd ask why he didn't have enough water, but it was a toad making tea so I try not to look into it too much) and he starts thinking sad thoughts to cry enough tears to make tea (which, yuck). He's thinking about spoons that fall behind the stove and are forgotten forever. I can't remember the other ones. I vividly remember trying to make my seven year old self cry over the things he was listing and each one I was like, I could do better than that! World hunger! War! Clay Aiken!

So there she is. Left and right, she is being cute. We've had her since October of last year. Before we had her, she had moved around quite a bit and so she was pretty comfortable from the beginning. But it wasn't until around the beginning of this month that she actually wants to cuddle. Like, look at me, pet me, love me. Before if she lied down on me it was like, NOBODY MOVE! She wants to cuddle! It's nice she's finally warmed up though. I mean, I guess. Now she's all needy, and not just when she wants the tub to have water in it.

But they're so cute.

Four score and seven... I mean, three years ago total.

2010-05-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

Oh boy, guys. I have a new follower, who isn't related to me OR someone I made follow me. Or myself. Meet Laura! We met in Bye Bye Pie's comments, and we found out we were both in the Mary Kate & Ashley Fan Club and I almost had a heart attack when I thought she was my pen pal from said MK&A club. She wasn't. Sorry to get you excited. Oh, and lawmommy? I feel special that you read me. I'm not sure what you mean by my comments being hilarious "sometimes" at BBP, but we'll overlook that for now.

So, this guy?

And me?

Three years ago today I found out Jesse really liked me. And I was, you know, freaking out. Later that day he invited me over to watch a movie. He came out and as we walked to his car he said, "So....I like you." And I said the same. Because we were apparently in 6th grade three years ago. Well, he might have been in 7th. He is older than me.

And then later that night we watched the Last King of Scotland and my hands were really sweaty and then during an awkward part in the movie I said to the two characters on the screen (both men) "let's make out". As a joke. The guys on the screen having an awkward moment. Guess who didn't get the joke and then it became an awkward moment for us? And then I had to say, "the guys in the movie, I meant the guys in the movie as a joke make out HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA forced laugh." Because I know how to make a moment sizzle. Maybe even fizzle.

And no Dad, there was no making out that night. But a couple days later I did kiss his teeth on accident. Oooh, I should pull out my diary! I totally wrote about all this stuff. And because none of you already know this story, obviously. What repetition?

Happy anniversary, baby! Maybe as your present to me you should rub my feet. And do all my bidding. All my bidding? How about all of my weaving in of ends?

Miss J and the moldy sandwich.

2010-05-11T10:38:00.000-07:00

Do you watch America's Next Top Model? If you don't, how do you expect to be fabulous, ever? You're not smizing!

One of the judges and modeling coaches is Miss J.

One time when I was in Eugene rollin' with my homies, a friend asked me what I thought of Miss J. And because I can't just answer a question quickly or straightforwardly, I proceeded with a story.

Once when I was in high school and my mom still packed my lunches, I had, uh, disposed of a bagel sandwich she had made me, yet I had not eaten. I'll get back to that. The point is, I forgot about it.

I lost something in my room one time (not that uncommon, someday I'll scan the pictures I took of my high school room) and my dad said he could find it.

He got down on his knees.

He reached his arm under the bed.

He pulled out a moldy bagel sandwich still in the zip lock bag. Dark green mold.

And of course I was just standing there being useless and got to watch with growing horror as he looked at the sandwich and then looked at me.

"What is this?"

I don't remember what my answer was, but "buhhhhh" sounds about right.

"I'm going to make you eat this sandwich."

I was TERRIFIED. I could get really sick if I ate that sandwich! That's child abuse! And you know what else it was? Ridiculous. My dad, the guy who made eye glasses out of those plastic Easter eggs and would say things like "oscillate" while "dancing" in the kitchen (he is white, remember, he was not the Pepper of Salt and Pepper) and the most abusing he got with us kids was just getting so utterly frustrated by the stupid things we did that he would bite his tongue (we all have that face down) and rub his forehead until the skin turned raw. And I thought he was going to force me to eat a moldy sandwich.

He walked out of the room and threw it in the kitchen garbage.

That feeling of terror though? When I thought my father was Mommie Dearest? (WIIIIRRREEE HANGAAARRSSS = moldy sandwich)

That's how I feel about Miss J. Terrified, but then also relieved. I mean, he is fabulous.

Miss J is, I mean. I guess my dad is also sort of fabulous, but in a hetero kind of way.

It's Mudders Day.

2010-05-09T22:25:00.000-07:00

I made a call to my husband the other night while I was at my parent's house BORED OUT OF MY MIND because Jesse was working on homework instead of baking me a delicious dessert or rubbing my feet like he should have been. I called him up to ask him how it was going and after I hung up my mom immediately chimed in.

Mom: Why do you talk to him like that?

Katie (Innocent Wife Who Deserves Dessert): Like what?

Mom (in a whispery high voice): "Hi honey..."

Katie (IWWDD): You mean, like...his girlfriend?

Mom: YES!

Mom has a point. So, Jesse, how do your other girlfriends talk to you on the phone? I'm quite curious. I'm thinking "Hey ho-bag" may be more appropriate considering we passed the whole "we've been married longer than we were dating" five minutes after we got married.

Like, Jesse? My husband who is now going to art school for animation and dragged me to free comic book day even though I was sick? I didn't know he liked comics until around a month after we got married.

Now, kids, I'm not here to give you some lecture about engagement time. Because that's boring. And I have nothing to say but we knew we wanted to get married fast and we're lucky for finding such a good fit for each other. Oh, that was boring? MY BAD.

All of my fan* left me a comment telling me they have "exhausted" my "archives" and I think she may have been acting nice, but you know what? You're welcome. I think Blogger just told me I have 22 posts now, so I know that must have been quite the archive delve.

*When I was in high school I was talking to my dad about the lack of black people in Coos Bay and he said "What? I have lots of black friend." He was talking about his coworker. Salt and Pepper, that's what they used to call you guys, right Dad? Did you guys rap about INSERT INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT like the original Salt and Pepper?

Fyi, I cannot spell inappropriate on my own.

Bored yet?

Just scrolling down for the cat pictures?

A long day working in the yard.

And pictures of Suki outside! She always moves around too much to get a clear shot. And I may not be able to figure out how to adjust the shutter speed on the camera.

I call this next one "Come give Poppa a hug."

Here's the cats congregating to talk about how annoying it is I take so many pictures of them.

I know they're sitting there saying, "Come ON! Have some kids already and give us a break."

And my dad had me take a picture of his angry face.

You know, the grain on this picture actually makes the face timeless. I'm sure you can tell I have always been very intimidated by this man. Have I told you the story about the sandwich, excuse me, moldy sandwich my dad found underneath my bed? Of course I haven't, but I need some material for the next blog post. All of my fan are waiting with baited breath.

Mom's blog. Happy Mothers Day! I'm obviously glad you are my mother, because you were the best. Mom was the type of mom when if I got in trouble at school (a rare occasion, mind you) she always took my side and then waited until we got in the car to give me a hard time. That's a good mom. She also made the best cookies ever and always made sure that my birthday was celebrated by itself with no "joint" Christmas/birthday presents (my birthday is December 26th).

I love you, Mom!

P.S.
Sorry or making you come and unlock the car door for me a zillion times when I was in high school. I've gotten much better about keeping the keys with me ever since that fateful night in Portland that I had to pay $75 dollars for a locksmith when Mommy and Daddy weren't around anymore. Sometimes I learn fast, right? Right?

...

Anybody have a slim jim?

Easy as Shari's pie.

2010-05-03T16:13:00.000-07:00

I have a cold.

I would like to welcome the newest followers to the Twelvedaysold blog!! Let's hear it for Amy Johnson, writer extraordinaire; Jenna Minkler, (almost typed Cox--she just got married) massage therapist extraordinaire; and Christy, sister extraordinaire. Christy does not have a website, but she created a profile so she could follow me. That's a good sister.

Welcome, guys. Welcome to the most boring site on the internet. What are you doing here anyway?

As previously stated, I have a cold. It's been 7 months now since the GREAT SICKNESS OF OCTOBER, so it's not so bad. I did get it Friday night through Sunday night, so it was thoughtful enough to ruin my entire weekend. But it was a good knitting weekend, I tell you what. Here's a washcloth:

I'm not going to lie. I made up my own pattern. "Pattern" being a loose term here because this is just a washcloth I decreased at the top, but hey can you decrease a washcloth? THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT. Click for the Craftster post (please comment. I'm desperate there. Well, here too).

I also finished this sock!

Some of you older fans of mine may remember me starting this sock a long time ago. I knit that sock. And then I knit its mate. And then I realized there was no way I could wear them comfortably because I apparently made the socks to fit the likes of a deer's leg. I don't think that was a good enough visual. What I mean is I made the sock LONG enough for my foot but not WIDE enough. And I thought first sock denial wouldn't apply to me.

I don't have any new pictures of the cats, but here's one from last year when I was working on crafts during Christmastime and got up for a minute.

And no I didn't finish the glove. We're currently not talking to each other.

Cinnamon and 12 followers.

2010-04-30T08:44:00.000-07:00

I AM KNITTING A GLOVE.

That's right, Susie Homemaker right here. Knitting gloves and making Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I finished the thumb of that glove.

It was hard to take a photo because of this:

Doesn't it look like he's coughing out a piece of paper in this one?

I told you, you've already tried paper, Cinnamon. You hate it.

Isn't he beautiful? He'll be 15 in August. It's been a long haul, Cin. Doo doo doo, oh, doo doo doo doo doo doo, oh. You will always be my baby. And you linger on.

But on to more important news. I'm sure when you came to my blog to read my newest post you gasped and lightly brought you hand up to your face and said, "Oh my! Katie has two new followers!" That's right! And one of them ISN'T RELATED TO ME.

Eat your Ikea bed frame?

2010-04-26T11:21:00.000-07:00

I was once in the hospital for being severely dehydrated after getting the flu. I was in 7th grade so I know you're all thinking, "She must have missed school!" but don't worry, I was hospitalized during spring break. My mom taught me common sense.

At one point the doctor or the nurse or someone else wearing something equally depressing was asking me if I had had diahrrea. This confused my father. He had been looming over me, as they had just given me a plate of food after being on an IV for a while (days? Weeks? Time just flies when you're having fun at a hospital) and I wasn't touching the food, and my father was trying to say, "Eat your lunch," (at least that's what I think) but what he actually said was, "Eat your diahrrea." Think he ever lived that one down? But he did write it in the get well card my mom got for me, which was hilarious. I mean, my mom and dad were there with me the whole time, it's not like my mom was sitting at home and read in the paper her that her 12 year old daughter was in the hospital and thought, "Maybe I should send a card..."

Speaking of this fun, they had put these little dividers in the toilet at the hospital so they could measure how much I was going #1 and #2 and comparing that with my intake. Think I deposited anything in that #2 container that week? Not with that cute male nurse running around, checking my toilet dividers, that's for sure.

This post was actually meant to talk about the bed that we got from Ikea. My dad posted a blog and the only thing I commented was "Eat your diahrrea" and I felt like telling the story to someone other than my family. Oh, only my family reads this blog? Hi, family!

For some reason unbeknown to me, Jesse has had absolutely no problem with banging his shins whenever he walks around the new bedframe. I, on the other hand, have been looking like this:

Attractive. Also, white much? Now, all of a sudden, Jesse is waking me up a million times a night (okay, maybe once or twice) from hitting the bed frame AS HARD AS POSSIBLE with his leg, thereby shaking the bed, jolting me awake, but just in case I'm still asleep he has to shout, "AAAAAHHHHHH, STUPID BED FRAME." Because the bed frame has quite the sense of humor. And is apparently kind of a d-bag.

Has anyone seen Suki?