The Newlywed Game

Long Weekend "Rap" Sheet

2010-09-07T14:49:00.000-07:00

I'm not quite sure what we did over Labor Day weekend:

I do remember...
Making Casey watch an obscene amount of 30 Rock, one episode in particular driving me nuts because he had to ID a whole slew of rappers for me, and was slightly aghast I couldn't name a Woo Tang Clan song (is that even how you spell that? I'm going to get it later.)

Convincing Casey to build me a planter box, only to decide I didn't like said planter box and now I have 200 lbs. of soil with no planter box to put it in.

Returning to the 21st century: we signed up for cable (but not all the way, just the 12 basic channels.) But before that Casey spent the afternoon seeing if could cheat cable from an antenna. Turns out you can! But only if you want to watch one Spanish-language channel.

Surfing Craig's List for free rock.

Trying to figure out where to get straps of leather. (What? You figure that one out.)

Going to Home Depot every day.

Making Casey (do you notice a lot of sentences start this way? I love you, honey!) lug in a free trunk to find a home for it, then lugging it back out when I decided it needed to be restained.

By far my crowning achievement was the total and utter smackdown of the pink chair- my $15 Value Village find, which after some repadding, restapling, rejiggering is thankfully no longer pink.

Before:

After:

Return of the gnome

2010-09-02T12:53:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up my parents indulged in a little game called “Pass the Poodle.” During a white elephant exchange my dad got stuck with perhaps the ugliest gift ever, an “art” piece (term used rather loosely here) of a macramé and macaroni- glued poodle on a piece of cardboard. My dad promptly left it in the giver’s bedroom (Scott Luell for you Eugenians). So began the great poodle war of the 1990s, 2000s, and probably, 2010s. Over the years, the poodle has gained a Mariners hat, been put on a roof, strung up a flag pole, and been given a Christmas light border as it has gotten punk’d back and forth between various Palmen and Luell members.

All this to say: I shouldn’t have underestimated him.

A couple of months ago, my dad left us a “present,” a very sad looking lawn gnome that he snuck into our front bushes- where it stayed for two days before he was found. Naturally when we went to Eugene last month, it only seemed fitting to leave the gnome where he truly belonged, back in my dad’s front bushes.

Alas, when Casey got to work on Monday morning, a giant box was on his desk. The return address read “Gnome Rescue,” and nestled inside was the above, our lovely gnome friend with a new t-shirt. The enclosed note reads:

Dada Casey,

I am so glad that you have found me! I fell asleep in the back of the Jeep and awoke to find myself in a thick patch of ivy. I quickly realized that I had been kidnapped by a not-so-merry band of hippies. I was taken to a commune and put on guard duty in an organic garden. Boy, poop “the organic in organic gardening” sure smells awful in 90-degree heat. I was forced to eat tofu! They rubbed me down with patchouli oil every night. They subjected me to second-hand smoke of the non-tobacco variety. They kept me up all night with ritual drumming. They tried to put my hair in dreadlocks but luckily, my porcelain was too thick. Of course, no one wears clothing in a commune so I had to steal this t-shirt from a puppy baby from Eugene. I hid in their All-Terrain Pram Stroller until they stopped at the Saturday Market. I then was able to make my way to the post office, find this box and make my way back to you, my precious gnome Daddy! My homey-gnomey! I am so glad that we are together again! Soon I will heal from my long hemp-infused nightmare. I promise I will remain vigilant at all times. Keep me safe

*Printed on 100% post-consumer recycled bath tissue.

Oh, it’s on now.

On why you should be glad you don't have to live with me

2010-07-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

Me: "Gah. Martha Stewart's calendar in her magazine pisses me off so much. July 21: I'm harvesting radicchio from my garden and then using to make my own pesto for a picnic on my yacht, while cruising my private lake. Martha, get a grip!"

Casey: "You complain about this every month. Maybe you should stop reading Martha's calendar if it makes you so mad."

Me: "But..."

Casey: "But then you'd have nothing to complain about, right?"

Kate: "That, and harvesting my own radicchio actually would be awesome."

Casey: "I'm going to the other room."

Status Update

2010-05-18T20:23:00.000-07:00

Every time I look at my blog (which, believe or not is multiple times a day so I can click through to your blogs), I sigh. I have been meaning to post, but when I think about it, I draw a blank, it seems like too big an undertaking after work, or lately- it would take me about 5 years to get you up to speed on the past few months. (I am also slightly miffed that no one seemed concerned when Bridget didn’t reappear right away- hello? Did you not read the last post? Did Mr. Darcy ever come back? (Yes) Did the room every get fully-painted? (Define “fully”) Was no one worried that I had obviously spent too much time with my own thoughts and had started hallucinating?)

So while catching up on everything seemed daunting, I realize that I have indeed been micro-blogging with my Facebook status updates. So I give you, the life and chronicles of Kate, part February-May:

February 25
Kate Calamusa: Is it weird to eat peanut butter straight from the jar? It is weird when you consider I'm doing it at the reception desk at work, uh right?

March 3
Kate Calamusa: apparently Washington state is trying to draw tourists here with this humdinger of a slogan: "Washington. The State." As in, "Not the city, darn it!" "Barack Obama does not live here!" "Our marketing team was hung over and couldn't think of anything else so we're going with it......"

March 9
Kate Calamusa: is not doing so good with "the words" today. Problematic when "being the words" is what you do for a living. Also problematic: calling it "the words"

March 11
Kate Calamusa: wants a bird named Fliza Minnelli

March 16
Kate Calamusa: They are are photographing a real, live snake in the office today. I WAS NOT WARNED ABOUT THIS.

March 17
Kate Calamusa: is embracing the out of shape person's workout: Sore abs! From coughing!

March 23
Kate Calamusa: is starting a competition with myself to see how long it takes me to hang the photo frames in the kitchen. I put them right smack in the middle of the floor when we moved in thinking after I tripped on them a few times, it would annoy me so much I would just do it. Streak so far: 2 months. Go me?

March 25
Kate Calamusa: had a dream last night that there was a velociraptor living in our master bedroom, and Casey and I didn't want to deal with the hassle of getting rid of it. So we just lived in the other half of our house. So even in my dreams, I'm still lazy.

March 26
Kate Calamusa: while watching 30 Rock last night: Kate: “I don't blame Liz Lemon. I'd push Jason Sudekis off the wagon too... to keep him available for me.” Casey: “Hey! You mean you aren't satisfied by this?” (Does an impressive shimmy.) Kate: “Yeh.... you have a piece of popcorn stuck to your shirt.” Casey: (looks down) “I know.”

April 1
Kate Calamusa: I feel a very Carrie Bradshaw moment coming: I just agreed to model in a fashion show. Please don't trip, please don't trip...

April 1
Kate Calamusa: is intrigued by this idea of Frenchwaffledcakes

April 13
Kate Calamusa: Oh my gravy- it's Glee day!!

April 29
Kate Calamusa: How you know are getting old: I just had to increase the view size of my Word doc to 300% because it was too small in the normal frame. Next step: start complaining about the damn teenagers driving too fast down the street (which they do, by the way).
May 12

Kate Calamusa: How bad is it on the "bad wife" scale to get the puppy you want and call it your hubby's birthday present even though that isn't what he asked for? Like a 5? 7?

7 hours ago
Kate Calamusa: When some people have crazy days at work, they drink wine. Me? I call Jimmy Johns and make them deliver a giant pickle to my desk.

My Bridget Jones Life

2010-02-18T21:00:00.000-08:00

[NOTE: THE AUTHOR OF THIS PIECE IN NO WAY INTENDS TO EVOKE PITY, BUT RATHER RELAY A HUMOROUS, RELATABLE ACCOUNT OF ONE WOMAN’S STRUGGLE FOR INTERNET. IN OTHER WORDS, OUR BRIDGET HAS PLUCKED HERSELF UP, EATEN CAKE AND DECIDED IT’S RATHER FUNNY, NOW (NOT THEN). THIS IS FOR YOU, DANA.]

Once there was a girl named Bridget Jones*, who sometimes is a bit of a klutz, a Calamity Jane or more often than not, tends to have stress-induced freak-outs.

It started simply enough, with a harmless puddle. A puddle that was soon enough in her shoes after a wayward bus splashed her on the walk to the office. We don’t need to talk about what happened in said office except that she arrived with soggy socks and exited with a mountain of frustration and slightly soggy socks. The only thing putting a spring in poor Bridget’s step was getting to talk to her charming, darling Mark Darcy* after work, out of the country on some important, pressing work* we are sure, because he is important, and charming and cute and….oh wait, where were we?

Right, Bridget bumbled her way home, fighting traffic, sweeping into the house to log onto Skype (after all, Bridget works in media, and Skype is free). Two minutes into a long-awaited conversation in which Mr. Darcy was of course, darling and charming, the connection goes dead. Bridget waits for Mark to reset the connection and call back. Nothing. Well he is a foreign land, give him a moment, she reasoned. She starts to kill time on Facebook and then realizes it is her Internet that is the problem, not the charming, darling man’s. She runs into the other room, pushing aside the paint cans and paint rollers (sometimes Bridget is well intentioned, but rarely finishes her hair-brained schemes, in this instance, the room she half painted resulting in a half blue, half gray guestroom) to reveal a modem blinking helplessly as it drowned into an Internetless abyss. Bridget, trying to maintain composure in light of this disappointing start, employs her IT where how and unplugs, replugs, unplugs, replugs, prods, says please nicely, clicks computer mouse, double clicks mouse, left clicks mouse, unplugs again, watches blinking red light, watches blinking red light, starts to plead, prods HARDER, gently slaps, slaps HARD, starts calling the modem names including “bugger” and “wanker”, hits, hits again, picks up, thinks about throwing against wall, HITS HARDER, starts to call names at MUCH LOUDER DECIBEL LEVEL, WHY WON’T YOU WORK WHEN I NEED YOU? YOU PIECE OF……

Mountain of frustration, soggy socks, puddles, no charming man at home- all come crumbling down and our Bridget, our stressed out Bridget collapses sobbing on top the friggin’ traitor of a modem, fat mascara-laden tears hitting the paint tarp, which luckily is still wet enough to get paint on her pants. Thirty minutes of ugly cry (you know the ugly cry, not the dainty, a tear or two, sniffle, but snot, mascara, headache resulting cry) later, Bridget realizes there is only one thing she can do, the only thing a woman can do to pick herself back up, what every strong, competent woman does when her composure has cracked. Crawling out of the guest room to the kitchen, Bridget reaches into the freezer, grabs the Thin Mint ice cream tub and the closest utensil available- in this case a butter knife, and uses it to shovel the ice cream into her mouth for the next hour while watching Ryan Reynolds in “The Proposal” and then finishing off the carton by licking the inside of it. That’s right, what every strong, competent woman would do, use a butter knife to polish off the tub. I am woman, hear me eat.

* Kate Calamusa changed her name to protect her privacy in this tale… oh, drat.
* Also known as the charming, darling Mr. Calamusa
* Or in Haiti all of February working

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

2010-02-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

Hi lovelies!

I’ve neglected to post about the new house because I wanted to post before/after pics (no more purple kitchen! Guest room-almost- repainted!), but somewhere hidden in the abyss of boxes in the garage is one very important thing: the camera cable. Once I unearth it I will post pics but in the meantime, a running list of the things I love about the new place will have to suffice:

1. There is a giant, well stocked, quiet Target three miles away. I repeat, a giant Target with hundreds of parking spaces a mere five-minute drive away. Bonus: same strip mall contains a Payless Shoe Source, Jo-Ann Fabrics and a TJ Maxx. Downside: cannot be good for my budget.

2. Two bathtubs to soak in after a long day at work.

3. A plant nursery at the end of the street.

4. The plethora of authentica taquerias.

5. The morning sunlight through the picture window in the living room.

6. Closet organizers specifically for my shoes.

7. For the first time in my entire married life every scrap of clothing is clean thanks to a washer and dryer that doesn’t require quarters. (SIDE NOTE: Casey has a lot of clothes. Must bring this up next time he mentions my clothing obsession.)

8. Dishwasher. ‘Nuff said.

9. A garage so the Bug doesn’t freeze at night.

10. Winco. Winco. Winco. Oh, and an awesome, cheap bakery: Wild Wheat.

Now if only my favorite guy was here to share all my favorite things- 16 days to go.

Pics to come!

Moving Hazards

2010-01-21T13:56:00.000-08:00

So… (awkward pause)… It’s been a while. I do apologize for the absence, but closing, packing, plumbing, almost moving (I’ll get to that in a second) and the Haiti crisis have completely depleted all creative thought. Status: we were going to move last weekend, but then the earthquake hit Haiti and Casey’s three days off got postponed (along with our move). First of all, thank you to all who have checked up on us, taken me to movies and perused Ikea with me while Casey has been working, it is so very appreciated and has kept me well entertained.

Also entertaining (or frustrating, depending on my mood): when you move, you inevitably pack up all your belongings, yes? And Kate Palmen (not using my married name here, this is an inherited Palmen trait, for sure) feels the need to “plan ahead” and so 3 days before the move, she has practically everything in a box, and a very good chunk of it already at the new house, because: “Don’t you see?” she says to her ever-patient husband, who is getting really tired of having things ripped from his hands while he is using them so it can be packed. “We can’t possibly have things just lying around the day we move. It must be all organized and labeled by what room it goes in the house. Where’s my tape gun and blue Sharpie?”

And then you don’t actually move, won’t for another two weeks, you are forced to eat your cereal out of a traveler coffee mug because someone packed all the bowls and took them to house. Plus the cups, the cookie sheets, the last roll of TP, and oh the horror, all the movies. And even if it is by some miracle still in the apartment, it’s been tightly sealed with packing tape away in a box, and good luck finding the camera cable to upload the photos of the house to show the bloggy people, it is lost in the abyss that is Kate’s organizational (de)feat.

The pile of boxes in the corner

2009-12-18T10:25:00.000-08:00

People, it’s time to face the inevitable: I have got to start thinking about moving, because (supposedly) we close on the house 3 weeks from today. I’ve started to make a pile of packing materials in a corner of the apartment, none of which have anything packed in them because I just cannot make myself do it quite yet.

The reasons are twofold: I still don’t think I have quite come to terms with the fact that we actually bought a house that we are actually going to move into and I will be leaveing the neighborhood where I’ve spent the last 6 years. Am I excited about this? Completely, utterly, totally. Have I quite grasped it? No. And I have a feeling that for the first four weeks or so I will feel like I am playing house- at someone else’s house.

The other reason? I am in a bit of denial over the physical task of moving, yet again. In the 5-plus years Casey and I have been together, there have been 11 moves between the two of us. I inwardly cringe to think how much stuff we actually have to move now with our accumulated junk (although the good news of moving 20 miles away is you really don’t have to do that much packing, you just throw clothes in the back seat of the Bug).

But the solace in this move is for the first time in my adult life, I am moving into a place with no expiration date. In college (and after), you know you are living there for a year and then up and leaving. It’s quite liberating to realize I have no clue when we are moving again, but odds are I have more than a year (oh please, oh please) to call this place home.

Frozen assets

2009-12-09T18:47:00.001-08:00

Hey gals!
Remember that conversation we had like a year ago about how they don't heat the bathroom at work, which was causing major health concerns? And how, I would wait so long to avoid sitting on the freezing toilet that I'd practically be doing a grown-up version of the kiddie "potty dance" at my desk?

Well, guess what? Now that it's decided not to get above freezing any day this week and was 22 degrees when I got to work this morning, guess how cold that glacial-like porcelain seat in the unheated bathroom is? AS COLD AS WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER. Glad we had this chat. Again.

a few steps closer...

2009-12-03T18:02:00.001-08:00

Okay, pending yet a few more things, we've bought the house! It's so incredibly exciting and scary and whole heap of other things, but more than anything, it's a huge new step. More to come...

How I know what polybutylene means

2009-11-24T13:39:00.000-08:00

Thank goodness my husband loves me so much, because I have been a drama queen this week. No, not in a girly way complaining about how he is ditching me for two weeks for Kenya (which he is, but since he has to do emergency comms training in the middle of Africa, I’m not going to bewail too much), but about PIPES. Yeh, polybutylene piping, which is all over our prospective new house and I have worked myself into a tizzy over it.

Apparently, polybutylene was the “pipe of the future… future…. future” when they installed it in the house, but in the last 20 years they have discovered that it has a delightful habit of spontaneously combusting. And the plumbing in the house runs through the attic, which given said spontaneous behavior could mean a big mess in a big hurry. So naturally I want it replaced before it spontaneously combusts over my brand new dining hutch, and so far its not looking favorable. I’m usually pretty level-headed, but this has honest to the plumbing gods gotten me so stressed out that I am just plain pathetic, and I need it to be over- fixed or not- so that I can stop having heart palpitations every 10 minutes. Bottom line is today (while at work no less) we have to decide whether or not to spend the cash to fix or walk away from the whole thing. New arch enemy in life: polybutylene. Good news is John & Kate are now off the hook.

Headed for the burbs?

2009-11-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

God is a comedian. A week ago, I was ready to throw in the proverbial real estate towel and hibernate for the winter in my cozy apartment. There were no houses out there. I checked Redfin incessantly and annoyingly often. Before our tour last weekend, I turned to Casey and said, “This could be a real stinker. I’m scratching the bottom of the barrel with these listings.”

A week later, pending paperwork and inspection, we’ve almost bought a house. And one I didn’t even see in all my real estate stalking and one that was just so inexplicably cute and homey that, even though it’s not the type of house I thought I wanted, it’s not in the area we started looking, I turned to Casey and said, “Done.” See? God definitely likes to throw curve balls.

That’s not to say I don’t have some trepidation about moving out of the area I’ve lived in (and loved) for the past 6 years, it will be weird. (Expect a few last minute posts on that as I bewail the loss of Caffe Ladro 2 minutes away and downtown a whopping 10. But we have a YARD people, and 2 FULL baths that I might actually feel are clean enough to soak in, so…) Getting to work will be tougher and when something breaks I can’t call the landlord and my gosh, we will have practically no fun money for a while. But more than that, I’m excited to start this phase of our lives, to have space to make our own and to continue to try and figure out what God has in store for us (Who I’m not convinced is finished with his punch line yet.) For now, just perhaps it’s a cute green house in Kent.

The Hunt

2009-10-20T09:56:00.000-07:00

How do you know what house is the right house? Some people have told me they have walked into one and have just known, other say that no matter where you end up, you make it home. I'm beginning to be a big believer in the latter. I'm not sure there are many situations life where you just know, maybe you have a good feeling, you feel led by God, whatever, but I don't think I have ever been 100 percent sure about anything, not even my lunch burrito (pork or chicken?). At some point, you make a choice and you live with it, some times it turns out to be a terrific choice, a fine one, or a horrible one, but that is just part of living.

All this to say- I'm very torn with house hunting. There are two houses that have some wonderful features, a few things that bug us and are in completely different parts of town- Rainier Beach and then in Kent. Those of you who know Seattle, know the word Rainier is usually not a good connotation and while the house is in a really cute area, the areas that surround it are not the best. And the other is near a lake (big plus) and walking trails but is farther south and this Seattle-ite is having a slight panic attack at living outside my beloved city (in the suburbs! Will people still come see us?)

So I go back and through between the two, each new piece of info (New roof! Bad schools! Park! Drug deals in park?) swaying me a different direction. The thought still lingers that there may be something else out there, but that will always be true and I do think that wherever we are it will be home, it would just be so nice to love my home.

Murky Waters

2009-09-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

I need a guidebook. I do apologize for being so lax in my blogging (Honestly, it’s a blog called The Newlywed Game and I can’t even blog about my 1st anniversary??? One sentence version: this has been the most incredible year of my life. Done) but the real estate search has taken over all my spare time, some work time and sleeping time. I now stalk Redfin for a living.

It’s not as though we are in a big hurry to move or close on a house, I just have this need not to miss THE house because I didn’t look hard enough. Case in point: I recently hunted out a house on a Thursday when it came on the market, by the time we saw it on Saturday, it was gone. And it was the first place that felt like it could have been home and it was slightly heartbreaking. I’m learning that even after all the work to find THE house (yes it does have to be in caps, thank you very much), the journey is just beginning: offers, money, inspectors and it’s all very overwhelming and surreal. And guess what? Talking about money is fun. Oh wait, no it’s not. It’s really, really not.

And thinking about spending THAT much money, you had better hope you like the darn house. And then we’re back where we started, trying to find THE house. Back to my stalker tendencies, I do promise to be more cheery next time (when we GET THE house!)

Real estate lurker

2009-09-15T21:37:00.000-07:00

Can't blog, too busy stalking Redfin.

This brain is full. Please try again later.

2009-08-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

Wow, sorry to have been such an MIA blogger, but things have been busy because: we have re-entered the real estate world.

And home loans and finding a realtor and cruising listings (All.The.Time.) in addition to working is exhausting and most of the time it feels like my head is going to explode from all the information, consideration and advice I keep jamming into my brain.

But I'm excited about the possibility of having our own place (please come visit me even though we are looking in the south end! It's cool there, really) but also slightly petrified because I'm starting to realize that sometime in the last couple of years, I became a grown-up and I did not see that coming. Part of me wants to embrace it (remember as a kid when all you wanted was to grow-up? I got my wish) or do something rebellious like tattooing a tramp stamp on my lower back in order to try and recapture my youth. (Kidding of course. Except for maybe a "My man is better than your man" tatty. That would be classy.)

In all seriousness, prayer is much appreciated and kind thoughts as well as make a pretty big leap forward.

Post-Vacation Haze

2009-08-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

Coupled with pre-vacay ADD, I now have post-vacation fog brain in which my mind refuses to wrap itself back around work. Ninety-percent of the time, I’m pretty happy working full-time, it gives me some purpose, I like the people I work with and seriously what would I do with myself all day? (Although you might get a few more blogs out of me, that’s for sure). But all it takes is a vacation for me to decide that lying around on the couch all day sitting on my soon-to-be ginormous backside eating bon bons wouldn’t be the worst way to go in life. There are several distinct phases to get to such an outrageous statement:

Stage 1, morning after return: “Why is it so early? I’m going to go back to sleep and then by the time I get up Mom will have cinnamon rolls done and I crawl out and eat them in my sweatpants with Julie & Julia…. Mmmm. CRIKEY! I have to go back to work today and there are NO MORE CINNAMON ROLLS AND NONE OF MY WORK PANTS WILL FIT RIGHT NOW. Sigh.”

Stage 2, mid-morning after return: “He wants me to file all the what? What is he talking about? Did I miss something while I was gone? I don’t want to, can I say no? Oh right, no I can’t because this is my JOB. DRAT.”

Stage 3, noon after return: “All I have for lunch is a pimento loaf and mayonnaise sandwich I found in the back of the fridge. I miss buffets.”

Stage 4, mid-afternoon after return: “I miss mid-afternoon naps too.”

Stage 5, way too late to be at work still, day after return: “HOW MANY HOURS A DAY AM I SUPPOSED TO WORK? 10? Have I always done this? Why don’t I remember how long a day this is? Why am I still here? Maybe all that sun addled my brain a bit.”

Stage 6, evening day after return: “Have finally reached the comfortable recesses of the big green couch with Flight of the Conchords on DVD and my bon bons; am not going back.”

Pre-Vacation ADD

2009-08-03T13:59:00.001-07:00

Tell me if this ever happens to you too: it's 3 days until I leave for a glorious sunny vacation on the houseboat in Idaho and my attention span for work is pretty much gone. Here is how my train of thought goes:

"Let's see here, I have until the 11th to finish that writing piece, so I should probably get working on it. OH WAIT, I'll need to turn that in before I leave on vacation because I won't be here on the 11th because I'LL BE ON VACATION, SQUUUEAALLL! Oh man, I should probably find a bathing suit that fits, and see what the weather is supposed to be like. Do you think they'll let me wear my cowboy boots with the steel-toed shoes on the plane or are those considered a weapon? I mean, I guess I could hurt someone with them but I certainly wouldn't. Maybe I should just pack them instead, but are they going to fit in my carry on bag? Maybe I can borrow a bag from someone. Does Casey have a bag that doesn't look all boy-like? He could really use a new bag, I think that other one is broken, plus maybe a new pair of pants. Shoot, I need to iron those dress pants before I go too. Not that packing pants in August really sounds necessary but as a chronic over-packer I don't understand that kind of logic. Why bring 2 when you can bring 6 pairs and have options? It's like having a moving closet. Oohh, wait wouldn't that be cool, a moving closet? I could just pull it over to the bathroom in the morning and pick out my outfit, and then drag it back into the bedroom later in the day! It'd probably be really heavy though with all my stuff in it, maybe if I vaccuum packed my clothes, it would work...."

And which point the phone rings at work, causing me to jump in my chair and realize I have no idea where I am for a minute or how much time has past that I've just been sitting at my desk at lollygagging. I mean, what have I been doing?

"Oh yeh, that's right, I'm going on vacation. SQUUEAAL! I should start packing, I wonder........"

Heat Wave

2009-07-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

Fair warning: if you are one of those people whose response to our Northwest heat wave has been: “It’s always this hot in Texas, in fact it’s even hotter, so stop complaining,” you should stop reading right now, cause you ain’t going to like what’s coming. Because. It’s. So. Freakin’. Hot. People. And I am going to complain until I collapse on the floor of my apartment with heat stroke because I don’t live in Texas, in fact I chose not to live there for this very reason, I don’t want to deal with 100-degree plus weather, umm ever. I live in Seattle because I like the rain, my jeans and sweaters and my morning lattes, not sweating while sitting in the apartment, getting burned by my car interior and instantly sticking to the leather chair every time I happen brush by it. In fact, the only thing running through my brain right now is that this post has to end prematurely although the material here is endless because of the laptop/heater on my lap that I am ready to chuck out the window at this moment to get away from it.

iWork

2009-07-13T10:49:00.000-07:00

It amuses how everyone has taken to putting “i” in front of product names, therefore obviously making it cooler. Every time I go into a Brookstone or a Sharper Image, there is a plethora of iPillows and iStereos, which I think are supposed to make me go like this, “Oh, an iPillow, this must be so much cooler than a regular pillow because it’s got an “I” in front of it, just like my iPod and iPhone are so cool. I have to have it!” When in fact I am paying $40 extra bucks for a regular pillow.

The reason I bring it up is because every stinking day I have work with the phone system at the office that is trying way too hard to be hip. When the phone rings you have to options, to press the “Answer” button or the “iDivert” button, which places the call straight into your voicemail. This presents numerous, slightly annoyed questions to pop into my head:

1. Um, why is not also iAnswer? Was there some sort of patent pending for some ridiculous board game called iAnswer where you have to recite the alphabet backwards in Hebrew while standing on your head so you couldn’t use it? Or they ran out of funds and could only spring for one iPhrase so they flipped a coin and iDivert won?

2. Also, phone system, do you realize that as the mere means by which people call to yell at me for not getting their subscription, you cannot nor never will be cool to me?

3. Why can I do super, extra spiffy things like iDivert people but not keep people on hold for more than a minute before you promptly hang up on them? Maybe you should have spent some of your patent money from claiming iDivert phrase on that fun little function instead, hmm?

4. I can also only assume you were made and programmed in some country where caller ID is some mythical and wondrous function that only comes on a day when you have impressed Santa Claus with your holiness and comes and goes on whim, am I right? Well apparently today the jolly bearded man in the big red suit is very, very pissed at me.

5.If I were to whack said iDivert button with my keyboard over lack of caller ID frustration, what would it be called then? iBreak? No, that one is taken too? Darn it. What about iHateyou? It has a certain ring to it…

6. Why are trying so hard to get me to like you? Do you have low self-esteem, did you maker not give you enough love in your childhood, or just want to fit in with the popular iPhones? How sad, good luck with that…

Before the movie begins....

2009-06-25T13:34:00.001-07:00

I adore my husband, because he takes me to see chick flicks on Wednesday nights (“The Proposal” was adorable by the way) but also because we have conversations like this:

Kate: “Sigh, I just love Sandra Bullock.”

Casey. “Meh.”

Kate: “Really? Why not? She’s so cute.”

Casey: “Universal truth: for some inexplicable reason girls all love Sandra Bullock. Guys do not. This also applies to Julia Roberts and Meg Ryan.”

Kate: “But, why? They’re adorable.”

Casey: “Eww, no. They are not cute, Sandra’s definitely had a nose job. Why do you like them?”

Kate: “Because they’re real, ya know? I can relate to them. I could be them. Megan Fox, I can’t be her.”

Casey: “Thank goodness, she looks like a tranny.”

Five seconds later…

Kate: “Who would you have play you in a movie about your life?”

Casey: “Ummm…. Ethan Hawke maybe?”

Kate: “Oh my gosh, you are so much hotter than Ethan Hawke. No.”

Casey: “Not hot, huh?”

Kate: “No. Plus he cheated on his wife.”

Casey: “Who then?”

Kate: “Ryan Reynolds could play you. Both funny, tall… it could work.”

Casey (thinks about it for a second): “That’d be okay. Why, who would you have play you?”

Kate: “Rachel McAdams.”

Casey: “She doesn’t look anything like you!”

Kate: “Yes, she does. She’s white like me and short.”

Casey: “No, she’s blond and tall!”

Kate: “Are we talking about the same person?”

Casey: “I think Natalie Portman would be better.”

Kate: “Eww, no.”

Casey: “Why not?”

Kate: “Because I don’t think she’s all that nice, she kind of has that Ivy League snooty thing going. I couldn’t be friends with her.”

Casey: “You don’t know that! She seems nice…. Is part of your stipulation that they play you be that you could be friends with them?”

Kate: “Yes. Rachel and I could be friends, I’m sure of it. She’d be the type of friend that would totally stick up for you and be a good shopping partner. Natalie and I could never be friends, I mean she’d be nice to your face but then I bet she’d say bitchy things behind your back.”

Casey: “I’m confused.”

Kate: “Oooh, or Anne Hathaway! We could definitely be friends!”

Casey: When does the movie start?”

Minor victory

2009-06-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

I ate half of the cupcake and threw the rest of away. I realize that it would have been better to not have eaten any of it, but c'mon people, baby steps here....

Cupcake frosting

2009-06-22T10:48:00.000-07:00

Confession time: I've gained 10 pounds since the wedding. Which I am NOT happy about, not because I really care about the number on the scale, but because I can longer fit into my favorite pair of jeans and I am not (repeat: am not) about the submit to the utter pain-in-the-butt shopping trip that is trying to finding a new pair of jeans that aren't too long, are the right color and don't make my hips look twice as wide as normal. (Ladies, you know what I'm talking about right?)

I do admit that right after the wedding I let myself take a break from working out and eating better in some sort of adverse reaction to not having to fit into a specific white dress anymore (hoorah!) but my short break has turned into a 9-month hiatus. And as glorious as the eat-whatever-I-want privileges have been, I do miss feeling pretty good about myself and my body. (Note: I said pretty good, I've never really loved it, but up until the last 2 months I've been pretty okay with how I looked.) But between stressful work days that leave me too exhausted to work out and way too much sugar intake because of said-stress, I've decided that starting today, I have to get back on the horse and work out (I really have no excuse, I have a FREE gym membership through work) and start to eat better.

That was until I spent the morning slowly licking the frosting off a cupcake at my desk, trying to avoid eating it (guess what is going to happen at, oh about 3 p.m. today when I have my normal afternoon crash... bye, bye cupcake.) So starting tomorrow, really, honestly, truly I am going to start getting back into tip top shape. Hopefully.

(As we can see from cupcake frosting encounter, avoiding food is going to be an issue, so if anyone knows of any fabulous work-outs you should probably let me know so I can burn off a few of these frosting calories.)

Why I should NEVER take days off of work....

2009-06-12T09:46:00.000-07:00

... because when you spend your morning working on your book at El Diablo while sipping on a Cafe con Leche and having brunch with your sister; your afternoon perusing the racks at Target, planning out dinner and dessert and hanging art in the apartment, you start to think about never. working. again. Stupid money.

On The Other Side Of The Fence

2009-06-08T14:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went to a bridal shower, the first wedding-type thing-a-ma-bob I have been to since my whole wedding hoopla (apparently I am only using my made-up words in my post today. Good luck readers!) Anywho, I found myself clustered up with two of my friends from church, who both happened to be married, and we spent most of the shower gabbing about what we should have registered for when we got married, what our husbands are good about doing around the house (I haven’t done laundry since we got married. It’s okay, I’d hate me too if I were you) and telling the bride-to-be what an awesome mixing bowl and our electric mixer she picked out.

Next to us, sat a very newly-engaged gal who was pretty quiet most of the afternoon, listening to us talk away, until finally she let out a giggle and said, “ You are all… such… wives!” and then proceeded to take tips from us on wedding planning and life after wedding.

I obviously know I am a wife, I was in fact at my own wedding, but I had this odd moment where I realized that I have crossed over the fence and have gone to “the other side of the pasture” so to speak, where kitchen appliances become very exciting, we are now Matrons of Honor in weddings ( I almost passed out a couple of months ago when Marla asked me to be that….my immediate response, “Yes, if I don’t have to be called THAT, how old am I?”) and the next big life events in the future are houses and gulp, babies. And I just sort of sat there and thought, “Huh. This is new,” never before having been in the position of being considered wiser in the ways of marriage than, well just about anyone (well, maybe wiser that weird guy Carrot Top, because really what could THAT guy know about what it takes to have a successful marriage?? His hair is the color of Oscar Meyer Weiner packaging and he wears eyeliner for crying out loud.)

Have a lovely Monday and let me know if you need any unsolicited advice about china patterns, stain removers and great kitchen gadgets, I believe I am a bona-fide wife now.

Before and After

2009-06-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

As promised earlier today, here are the before pics of the dining area in the apartment.

Sad dining room, before:

Happy, very Seattle-centric dining room, after:

I'm super happy with the way it turned out!

DIY Project 2.0

2009-06-01T10:26:00.000-07:00

Poor Casey: his wife got yet another "bee in her bonnet" this weekend, and decided to redecorate the eating area in the apartment. Pics and details to come as soon as I find my camera cord to upload. Hope your Monday is sunny!

Kate

Things My Husband Has Taught Me About Marriage

2009-05-18T20:06:00.000-07:00

Since we have been married, Casey has developed a delightful little habit of trying to pants me when I wear my sweatpants around the house. That's right, I said "pants" as in the juvenile habit boys adopt on the playground to humiliate (or perhaps flirt with depending on who you ask) some poor pig-tailed little girl to try to make her cry.

One of the first weeks we were married, I tried to get up off the couch and Casey tried to stop me by grabbing my sweats and in what he views as a wonderful turn of events, discovered that the elastic band that makes sweatpants oh-so-wonderful has a lot of stretch to it and my pants ended up around my ankles in 1.2 seconds flat. Ever since, I've had to guard my backside and jet off the couch as quickly as possible to avoid this drafty fate, but more often than not, he gets that glint in his eye and he beats me to it.

Not five minutes ago, he grabbed my sweats as I got up to get my laptop and bemoaned in a most pathetic fashion:

"WWWHHHHYYY DO YOU DOOOOOO THAT????????"

To which he calmly replied, "What? Don't you know? That's what people do when they get married. It's because I love you that I pants you."

Regardless of the fact that he is totally full of CRAP, maybe he is in indeed still flirting with me after 7 months of marriage and 3 years of dating, so slightly appeased, I am now back on the couch but you can bet your butt (pun totally intended) I'm not getting back up again unless the house catches fire and even then, I'm waiting until he's out the door and my pants are safely secured before leaping up.

It's a bird, it's a plane... it's a bear?

2009-05-18T15:56:00.000-07:00

There is a black bear loose in the city and has been spotted in Magnolia, Ballard and then Shoreline today as animal control has tried to track it down. I know bears are extremely dangerous, your kids probably shouldn't play outside at the moment and yadda yadda yadda but every time I hear about a new bear sighting I almost collapse into giggles because I get this mental picture of a bear in disguise hanging out at Cupcake Royale in Ballard trying to hide out from the authorities:

Please be my friend

2009-05-11T16:09:00.000-07:00

{To my blog-ladies: below follows my new experiment in which I try to get people to join my book club. So far, we have one member, myself, although I don't think it is time to bemoan my lack of friends since I haven't actually sent this email out yet, but still. One. I have a general idea of who checks in here, but sadly I don't have your emails or you live too far away to come, which really bums me out because I am pretty sure that Mallory and Erin would be the best people EVER to have in a book club. But Seattlites, please shoot me an email (kate.calamusa@gmail.com) if you would like to take pity on me and join my semi-literary excuse to get to eat dessert or at the very least give me an ego boost by telling me that at least one other person will join, really.}

Re: Book Club

Hello lovely ladies in my life,

I have a proposal for you all: I have a deep, deep longing to be in a book club (perhaps its my voracious appetite for literature, perhaps it's just an excuse to get together with other women to chat or most likely an excuse to make a dessert) and am contemplating starting one of my own.

I'm thinking about keeping this simple: we meet at my place once a month (or once every two months! Or three! Or six!) to chat books and eat dessert. The format is pretty simple: each member picks out a a couple of books at our first planning meeting and we pick books for the year- whether they are serious, humorous, sassy or political. When your pick comes up, you lead an informal discussion on the book. If you can't make it one month, you skip it and come the next, or come even if you didn't finish the book and we'll fill you in.

So, here comes the crucial question: are you interested? Chime in if you are and I'll see if there is enough interest (it'll be fun, really!) and we'll pick out a day to get started, maybe a mid-week 7 p.m. gathering. This is most definitely not an exclusive invite either, if you have friends who might be interested, pass this along!

All the best,

Kate

The (un)Real World

2009-04-29T18:39:00.000-07:00

I never understand people who claim they have never cried while reading a book. I mean, I believe that they're telling me the truth, I just don't relate to that idea. I'm a notorious crier at movies (I started crying in the opening credits of The Notebook just because I knew what was coming) but when I read books, I get completely lost in them, so absorbed that I laugh and cry right along with the characters, going right into what is commonly known among family as "The Kate Zone," emerging days later a little confused at what year it is and where I am.

Last night Casey decided to watch a man movie so I crawled into bed with my latest book about the French court at Versailles under one of the King Louis (side note: France, there are male names other than Louis. Try a 1,001 Baby Names. Honestly.) It was starting out fantastically, my little peasant heroine fell in love with a courtier who in turn fell in love with her and built her this beautiful chateau and was going to marry her and it was going oh so well. Until Augustine the courtier decided to not only cheat on her but leave my lovely heroine destitute and heartbroken. The fact that I was sobbing during the heart-wrenching scene is a given but I was truly mad at him as well. I crawled out of the bed to grab more tissues, muttering to Augustine about what a genuine d-bag he was, how could you do that Marguerite, was it because she was a peasant? DON'T YOU KNOW THAT TRUE LOVE ONLY COMES AROUND ONCE IN A WHILE YOU IDIOT ? Casey, momentarily distracted from Max Payne, called out to me as I went back to bed, "Did you just mutter something about someone being a bastard???"

I woke up this morning genuinely mad at the entire male race (probably a good thing that my husband was still asleep or my wrath might have landed on an unsuspecting victim) and only after about 12 hours away from the book have I been able to calm down enough to not send death glares at every man that crosses my path.

TMI

2009-04-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it really doesn't pay to be friendly.

When strangers at coffee shops or on the phone at work ask me how I am, I always say, "Great. And how are you?" It's always surprising to me how many baristas and check-out people look totally shocked that someone would ask them this question (which might say something about our self-absorbed society, but that is a whole other post) and I admit I always feel cheerier after having a pleasant little exchange on the wonder that is Friday with my barista at Ladro.

This morning I was ready earlier than usual and decided to pop over the Fremont bridge for a change of pace and stop in PCC to grab a latte, sandwich and salad. The sun was shining, the water was beautiful, did I mention it was Friday? I was in an extra-special friendly mood, so as I waltzed up to the espresso counter and smiled at the gal behind it. "Hi," she said flatly. "How are you today?" I shot back a "Wonderful, how are you?"

"You don't want to know," she said, walking slowly over to me. A bit thrown off, I stammered, "I'm sorry."

"I really have to pee."

I just looked at her trying to think of what to say. I'm sorry? Do you want to go now and I'll wait? I don't think was really the answer I was going for?

"And its starting to burn."

Um, yeh.

How does one respond to that kind of statement? I began to seriously regret not only starting a conversation with this woman but also have her prepare my precious morning latte. I sputtered out another, "I'm sorry, that's no fun" while pretending to be throughly involved with searching through my purse for some mythical object that was apparently, very, very important to me because I spent the next few minutes with my head in my bag trying to find it.

She finally, after what felt like 2 years, handed me my latte, and I backed away slowly with a feeble, "Well hope you have a great day" and practically sprinted out to my car.

The dreaded D-E-N-T-I-S-T

2009-04-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

From: Mom
To: Kate and Kelsey
Subject: I'm cranky

"I'm cranky because.....I did one of those things we are supposed to do as a responsible adult. I went to the dentist-who by the way is not who makes me cranky, it's his lovely hygienist who by Webster's definition is an expert in hygiene.

Well, I beg to differ. First of all this one is a LOUD mouth breather and I can get a whiff of the garlic french fries she had for lunch even through her mask. And so help me, I understand what "turn toward me and turn away from me" means, I do not need hand signals and a congratulatory "VERY GOOD" every time I get it right. I was so tempted to clamp down on those annoying gesturing fingers it was all I could do to conform to the expected behavior.

And really, doesn't someone look at the size of ones giant hands and decide that they will not fit into the average sized persons mouth? I mean jockeys have to be a certain size as do astronauts, elevator operators, race car drivers, and cubicle workers-OK maybe I've gone too far but I'm telling you all I could think of was the Seinfeld episode where he dated the pretty blond with ginormous digits. And did anyone explain to her that the little vibrating wand was meant to polish the teeth-not the gums, lips and sides of the inner cheeks and the little suction apparatus was meant to remove the excess saliva not spray it all over my face and neck. Thank you Lord she had given me sunglasses or I'd have spit in my eyes as well.

And quite honestly I go to the dentist to update my lying abilities. "Yes I floss everyday and ALWAYS wear my night guard and would NEVER dream of eating a lemon or ice cubes with my pearly whites. I am so glad you think my oral hygiene is much improved over last time because I've made a serious lifestyle change in that department so I can get another VERY GOOD from you every 6 months," not so I can try to answer the same personal questions you ask me every time I come here while your ginormous hands are in my mouth and my jaw is aching. Now I know Kelsey my darling has experienced this same routine so will have sympathy for me - and by the way she wanted to know how your architect studies were going?

Okay now I feel much better having aired my displeasure and have another 6 months before I have to endure it again or try to explain to our very nice dentist why I want my records transferred.

Love to you -I'm off to take some advil and have pudding for dinner. MOM"

This is precisely why I haven't been to a dentist in two years. My teeth can just rot.

MIA Katie Bug

2009-04-15T20:29:00.000-07:00

Oh bloggy people, I miss you. I have been a terrible, no good, very bad blogger lately. I'm very tempted to whine for several paragraphs about how busy I have been, but you've all heard that one before, right? About how the job takes over all your waking hours, your apartment hasn't been cleaned in weeks, you find a piece of cracker stuck in your hair after spending the evening working on the couch only to realize that it was a cracker you ate yesterday and it possibly could have been lodged in there all day? No, not that one?...well this is awkward. I better be going then.

(Promise to get caught up soon, really.)

Ode to a taco truck

2009-03-11T13:18:00.000-07:00

I've always been slightly culinary-obsessed. Holly, I blame my mother for this too. Hence, I am always, always on the search for the perfect something- the perfect mac and cheese (hello Beecher's in the Market), the perfect latte (actually not in Seattle but Full City in Eugene- just 9 day until I get one. It's a good thing my parent's don't know this is the only reason I go visit. Oh wait, they read this blog.... I love you too?) and capping off the longest sentence in the world, the perfect taco.

And peps, I'm very serious about my tacos. I am in a perpetual state of searching for the best Mexican food in the city and I'm hardly ever satisfied (Carta de Oaxaca in Ballard comes close for the real deal). I am a Mexican food junkie, in fact one of the reasons I knew the hubby was the real deal was I found out he could eat Mexican as often as I can and loved it just as much, and I thought, okay I could spend my life with this guy.

But I digress from my point which is HOLY MOLE I just had an awesome taco. (Yeh, I feel the need to share. Again, culinary obsessed.) We have a taco truck down the street from work which in industrial SODO is my saving grace on crazy busy days and I trotted down this afternoon to get my normal veggie burrito. I ordered (perhaps another reason for my ode is that the nice gentleman charge me $1 less because I am one of the "regulars"), grabbed the bag and headed back to work. When I got back to my desk, I didn't have a burrito but 4 carnita tacos with onions and cilantro. Boy howdy, I thought I had died and gone to heaven after the first bite.

I probably have the worst breath ever from the onions and I feel like I ought to warn co-workers before they come by my desk so they don't faint from the stink, but man was that worth it. That was like pork-and-cilantro-induced-utopia, unbutton-your-now-too-tight-pants-afterwards good.

Taco truck, how I love thee.

When all else fails, you can always talk about the weather...

2009-03-09T08:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, I don't want sound like a Grumpy Gus, but dudes its March 9th and its snowing AGAIN! I don't know when I've ever wanted spring so badly, in fact I want it so much that I wore a short-sleeve shirt today (the whole wishful thinking and all) with my skirt and tights and now I am freezing my ass off watching it snow out the window. Big gargantuan sigh.

In other, less icy news, I don't believe I have shared a little tidbit with y'all and it may explain why I've gone missing the last few weeks: I got a promotion at work and am now the Assistant Editor for this little magazine I've grown to so dearly love. It's taken me two weeks to come down from cloud 9 (at least there wasn't any snow up there, sheesh) Anyways, I'm busier than I have ever been at work, but couldn't be happier about it. Like all good things, it happened in the oddest way, and I can only say God had a hand in it. (If you want to the full scoop, I'll tell you over coffee, it's a long one.)

Happy Monday and here's to wishful thoughts about skirts, sun and editing paradise,
K

Newlywed Status

2009-02-26T08:32:00.001-08:00

I'm not quite sure how long you get to keep the "newlywed" title. I had always thought that you could get away with that one for a couple of years at least. I fully intend to, mostly because I don't want to have to think up a new name for my blog (the horror), but also it is such an incredibly fun stage and I want to make it last as long as possible. Every once and a while you see those couples who have been married for 20 years that still tickle and laugh and are completely in love. And when you have to watch those couples its disgusting, to be one of those couples is A-MAZ-ING.

However, there does seem to be an argument that you can only call yourself a newlywed for a few short weeks which came up at work yesterday around the lunch table. The gals were talking about how long they knew their significant others before they got married and a co-worker turned to me and asked, "So how long have you been married now?"

"Five months."

"Well you are almost still a newlywed then huh?"

And I thought, "ALMOST? Woman, I still have the nail polish on my toes from the pedicure I got the week before my wedding." Which to me either means I seriously need to pay more attention to my grooming or I can definitely still count myself among the newlywed. I vote for the latter. Perhaps once that last remnant of mauve polish flakes off, I'll reconsider but for now I'm keeping my title.

Alright ladies, opinion time: How long can you call yourself a newlywed?

Ta-da!

2009-02-18T21:57:00.000-08:00

Every once and a while I get what I like to call, "a bee in my bonnet," usually encompassing some sort of crazy-hairbrained idea that turns into a major craft project. During the last year it was designing and making the programs for the wedding, which if you read my bride blog, you know was a major undertaking including cut fingers, tears, glue stuck in my hair that I had to cut out and a weekend-long design-a-thon in which I watched every Jane Austen movie ever made (ah, the single life.)

Last weekend, I caught another bug and poor Casey got drug to every fabric store in Seattle on my quest to build a headboard for our bed. I didn't really want to spend the money to buy a whole bed frame, so thank you Better Homes & Gardens, here is my baby.

Of course, there was a staple-in-the-finger incident, and two fingers super-glued together but all in all, perhaps one of my most successful projects ever.

The magazine industry....

2009-02-16T11:56:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I get mad that Lauren Weisberger beat me to the punch with The Devil Wears Prada because I could write a shockingly similar account based off my job. Some days.

A "Hair-y" Issue

2009-02-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

I don’t know about you, but hair salons make me extremely self-conscious. Maybe it’s all the mirrors, maybe its because I can see my hair at every angle and I never realized there was a piece of popcorn stuck in it or maybe its because I always feel the need to explain myself. Because let’s face it, by the time I actually manage to find the time to schedule an appointment, my hair is usually completely out of control and when greeted by the perfectly coifed receptionist, comparatively I look like The Shaggy Dog. And as I sit in the chair, I always feel the need to come up with an excuse of why my hair looks so bad, usually plopping into the seat with a “Man, it’s windy out there!” or “ I was in a rush this morning, I didn’t have time to dry it” while tossling my hair so the stylist can’t really tell how bad it is. I realize that the perfect solution to this dilemma would be to actually do my hair, but when you have an appointment at 11 am on Saturday, who’s really going to take all the time to fix their hair when someone will fix it for you in a couple of hours? Not me.

All this to say, that I was invited to attend the grand opening of a new salon last night and I was having a bad hair day, as in I was seriously P.O.ed at my head. (Side note: of course today I am having great hair. I did everything the same and it looks a million times better than yesterday.) I ended up working late on some writing pieces (another side note: when I write, I tend to play with my hair while thinking, turning the bangs into a major greaseball by 5 p.m.) and then ran to the party, which was of course full of the most perfectly-coifed, well-manicured, amazingly-colored women ever- of course all standing at about 6 feet as well. And I thought: I have entered the world of the Glamazons and I have very bad hair today.

If it hadn’t been for the appetizers and swag bag, I would have bolted right out of there but I don’t need my self-esteem for an hour if there are crab cakes involved.

Home Sweet Home? Home Sweet Condo? Home Sweet Apartment?

2009-02-12T13:14:00.000-08:00

We have been dabbling with the idea of buying a place for a while now. We actually started looking while we were engaged but I had to take a hiatus for that whole wedding thing that was going on and keeping me oh so busy. But now that we have been married for a few months, we are revisiting the topic again and people, it is so hard to know what to do.

Pros: Owning our own place would built equity, we could make a place our own, we could really settle down and stay in one place for a while, the prices are lowest they have been in almost a decade, etc.

Cons: Being strapped into a mortgage is kind of scary, the economy isn't particularly stable at the moment and if one of our companies shut down we would be in BIG trouble, home loans are harder to attain, we really would need to fairly certain we weren't going to up and move in a year, etc.

And everyone we ask has a different opinion: "It's a fantastic time to buy!" "It's the worst time to buy EVER!" Newspapers and news reels tell the same conflicting story and most of our conversations end with us looking at each other, shrugging our shoulders and saying, "I dunno."

But as confusing as the entire decision is, we have come to a conclusion of where this mythical home could possibly be: in sleepy, seaside Des Moines. Every time we go out exploring the different burbs, we somehow end up in Des Moines. Last week, we went to explore Georgetown (Seriously underwhelmed by that one. Next!) and somehow we end up 20 miles away in Des Moines. Again. It's quiet, on the water and seems very family-friendly. On our last trip, I counted 3 baby strollers and two dog-walkers on one street. I love it there, but the question remains, is now the right time and is it the right place? It means the leaving the city, which is bitter sweet for me- I get tired of the lack of parking, the crazy traffic and the sirens, but I also love downtown movies, living within 2 miles of a Tom Douglas restaurant and the awesome shopping.

Suffice it to say, if someone all-knowing and all-powerful (hmm... I know this guy I think, he's awesome) could hit us over the head with a clear-cut sign we would really appreciate it. And if the Mariners could win the pennant that would wonderful as well.

25 Things...

2009-02-05T18:34:00.000-08:00

Fine, I give in. I have been tagged to about 25 of the “25 Random Things” thread on Facebook but haven’t done one yet, well mostly because I wouldn’t even know how to post a note on Facebook, whom to tag and it would just end stressing me out. I’m what you call an “Old School” Facebook gal- I never add any of these new-fangled applications because every time I try to I end up confused and wondering how I joined the Biology Rocks! group. Long story short: it’s too complicated for an old lady like me and I would much rather put up on my blog- duh (that’s how you know I’m old school, I just said duh). Okay, here goes:

1. I have a square-inch wide patch of skin on both of my hips that I can’t feel. When I was younger I did gymnastics and apparently all that time leaning on the uneven bars permanently deadened the nerves in the area. It’s like having a teeny, tiny epidural right there, you can ram a pencil into for all I care, I won’t feel it.

2. When I was a little kid, I apparently wanted to grow up to be, and I quote, “ A Chinese lady who makes noodles.” And apparently when my mother tried to break it to me that while I could certainly make noodles, it was physically impossible for me to become Chinese I threw a world-class fit.

3. I wish life was one big giant musical. Seriously.

4. I also really wish I could sing (in my big giant life musical).

5. I have secret ambitions to write a book.

6. The only reason I joined the newspaper in college was because I thought the editor was cute. Good thing I end up marrying him.

7. I just decided in the last year that I like chocolate. Before my 22nd birthday, couldn’t stand the stuff but then apparently estrogen kicked in, I became a woman and I can’t get enough chocolate.

8. I don’t like cats. I usually make the excuse that its because I’m allergic but its really because when they stare at you they have this look in their eyes like they are plotting your death. It creeps me out.

9. When I have to go somewhere, I always go over all the different route options in my mind and decide what the most efficient way would be (gas, then bank, that way I don’t have to go back over the bridge). I also do this when I go to the hospital or the mall; I walk through the route in my mind ahead of time. I call this being “strategic”. Casey calls it being “anal”.

10. I loved Carl Winslow from the show “Family Matters” when I was a little kid. I thought he was awesome and so funny when he freaked out. I loved him so much that for Christmas I asked for an African-American baby doll-aptly named Carl of course. (Even funnier was that my sister Kelsey had one named after Edgar Martinez the baseball player. We were special kids.)

11. Lime Tostito chips, Taco Bell, Big Sexy Hair Spray, Sex and the City, Jalisco Restaurant, The Bachelor, 80’s attire and The Notebook always, always remind me of 5th Hill.

12. Speaking of hair spray, I llllllooovvve big hair. There is a Southern debutante within me that screams “More hairspray! Tease it more” every morning. It’s a constant battle to control this woman.

13. I grew up on Seattle Mariners baseball. My dad has season tickets for years and weekends were spent driving back and forth between Eugene and Seattle for games. I once had lunch with Alex Rodriguez (before the whole Madonna thing, eww), was there for Game 5 of the ’95 AL West Series and every picture I can find of myself between the 4th and 5th grade I am wearing the same thing: my Tasmanian Devil converse tennis shoes, jeans and my gray Mariners sweatshirt.

14. You’d never believe it NOW, but at one point in my life I was actually pretty athletic. One glorious year, I beat Sol Rexius in a footrace (if you are from Eugene you know this is BIG deal) and did more pull-ups than all the boys in my class for the Presidential Fitness Challenge. That was when I peaked. I was eight.

15. I want to apply to be on The Amazing Race TV show. I tell this people and they always laugh, and then I’m stuck sitting there twiddling my fingers because I’M SERIOUS. I’m trying to talk the hubby into let me quit my day job so I can concentrate on applying.

16. Oh, I’ve watched every season and I would kick some serious butt. Just so you know.

17. I’m left-handed, left-footed (soccer), bat left-handed, throw left-handed, but play tennis right-handed. Don’t ask, I’m not sure why either.

18. Two things can cure a bad day: Target and a bean and cheese burrito. Every time.

19. I have a polite phone voice that is much higher-pitched than my normal speaking voice. But it is reserved just for people I work with, who call into work, people at the insurance office and when I order takeout.

20. I also have a fake laugh to go along with these conversations. Nothing like my real laugh, much louder and more obnoxious with an occasional guffaw thrown in.

21. I seriously overestimate how much food we can eat and inevitably we have to eat off the same leftovers for a week and a half because I made a bathtub full of soup for two people.

22. How many more of these things do I have to come up with? Three? Oy vey….. I say oy vey a lot. #22 done.

23. I still drive my red bug, the one and only car I have driven since getting my driver’s license. He and I have a history and I will drive it until it literally falls apart. I love that car.

24. I sing in the car. Very loud and off-key. And if I catch people looking at me, it just makes me want to sing louder.

25. I eat popcorn for meals. I also count coffee as a food group and because I am so nutrition-savvy, I get 2-3 servings a day.

Hold It...... Hold It......

2009-02-02T12:23:00.001-08:00

Apparently, the building management for our office has decided to cut back in these harsh economic times and not heat the bathroom on our floor. Heck I am all for conservation and saving a buck or two, but it causing some serious health risks because it so blasted cold in there (and to be frank sitting on the seat is like sitting on a block of ice. Oh and remember without pants on too) that I keep waiting until I have pee so bad that I'm sure my bladder is going to explode before braving the Artic-like conditions.

This cannot be good for me.

One week. A whole lotta change.

2009-02-02T08:59:00.000-08:00

I was cruising through the blogroll this morning (glad you made it to Aussie safe and sound E! Happy 6 months Mallory and Jared!) and I happened to glance to the right to look at my most recent entry- and just stopped and shook my head. Despite being written a mere week and a half ago, the sentiments and ideas already seem extremely outdated in the wake of the last week.

A week ago today, I was ready to leave this job behind. And then three people got laid off. Then seven at the corporate office, including my position. And then two more. And then the job I was so ready to ditch became vitally important and all I wanted to do was to keep this job. Desperately. Maybe because the old adage is indeed true, you don't know what you've got until it's gone (or dangled in front of you). Or just maybe finding another job is this economy scares the bejeezes out of me (that's really much more likely.) But right now, I just want to sit my butt in this chair, claim it as my own and keep getting paid while I scheme up my next job idea (Can I write cookbooks without becoming a famous chef first? I don't want to start my restaurant or have cooking show, I just want to book deal. Anyone interested?) I may indeed want to leave this job but I want to leave on my own terms, not someone else's. (I realize that really isn't what you SHOULD say, but I'm all about being honest here. That's just how I feel.)

Needless to say it was an incredibly emotional week- ironically, the people laid off were my favorites, just great, honest, hard-working people who I am praying for now because I know it's been really rough on them.

Here's to hoping this Monday is considerably better than the last.

Time for a change?

2009-01-22T15:30:00.001-08:00

I'm having a quarter life crisis. It's not like a mid-life crisis- I'm not freaking out about my hair going gray or having lost my youthful good looks (which I don't have to begin with so I anticipate that one to be very easy one day) but I have hit a different crisis nonetheless: I'm starting to wonder if I made a wrong move back in college.

I enjoyed my journalism classes, I love to write but to be honest why I wanted to be in the magazine industry is beginning to be overshadowed by the feeling that I should have gone with my first love: teaching.

Becoming a teacher was always the "plan" growing up. I decided I wanted to teach the 3rd grade, when I was in about, oh the 3rd grade. I counseled at camp, babysat, and worked at the church nursery. Then when I was 16, a couple of friends and I took up teaching a 1st grade Sunday School class. I thought it would be glorious. It was hard. Guess what? Six year-olds can be tough, they don't have much of an attention span and a few of them could have cared less about this guy Jesus we kept talking about. And guess what? Sixteen year-olds (including myself, ahem) can be tough too and I got frustrated and figured that teaching wasn't for me because I wasn't patient enough.( I look back on that now and just wince. Of course I wasn't patient enough. I was sixteen, I could barely pay attention outside of movies and pep rallies. Sermons at church seemed endless. I can only hope that the last decade has taught me a little something about the virtue and if nothing else, dealing with staff members complaining about Sharpie marks on their chairs and not socking them in the face is a testament to this fact.) And that was the end of my teaching aspirations and a few years later, my writing bug had taken hold and I end up in the journalism program, which I really did love.

As you may noticed from the last few posts (or as Casey put it the other day,"I read your angry blog today." Yeesh) things have not been going great at work. Two years after graduation, I am still a glorified receptionist. Now don't get me wrong, I am more than willing to pay my dues but I am starting to wonder if I have a hit a proverbial wall, stuck in a spot that is very good for the company (a receptionist/office manager/writer/web editor at a very small salary) and not very good for me. I'm beat down, I'm angry and I am really tired of being take advantage of.

But perhaps maybe the most discouraging of all, I miss making a difference, I miss feeling like what I am doing matters. I miss watching children's eyes light up when they "get it". I miss having a purpose outside of directing phone calls. I want to serve God and I wonder if maybe he is calling me to do something else. Or maybe I just want to escape this situation and do something I really love. And man, I do love kids.

So there it is, my mid-20's crisis- to teach or not to teach? To hang on to the magazine dream or finally, finally let that one go? A part of me wants to wipe the slate clean and start over, to do something that I was maybe too scared to do 6 years ago. The other still desperately wants to be an editor at Seattle magazine. We'll see, but in the meantime, I am praying that God will give a clear-cut sign either way even if I have to wait for it, though it may test my newfound patience. All the more fitting because if I am going teach I'll probably need even more of that one.

A Love Letter

2009-01-20T09:00:00.000-08:00

I realize that for a blog named "The Newlywed Game" I haven't spoken much about my newlywed status but today that's going to change peps. Today, Casey and I celebrate four months of wedded bliss. And I mean that, bliss. I suppose the most cynical of people would declare we are still in the honeymoon phase, and perhaps we are. But I never have been more fulfilled, more content and more ecstatically excited about life than I have in my four months with Casey.

We've learned a lot about each other in the last couple of months, which after dating for nearly 4 years, you would think we would know all there is to know, but I continue to be surprised and delighted with the man I married. And to be honest I expected the transition into living together to have a few bumps in it but it has been very smooth, full of laughter as we have observed each other's quirks. (I'm allowed to say this because on our date this weekend I asked him, " You know we haven't had any real fights since we got married. Did you kind of expect there would be more of a transition and that it might be tougher?" He looked up and gave me a sheepish grin and said, "Is it okay if I say yes?")

Yes, I am sure we are still getting the hang of this thing called marriage and it won't always be this easy but every day I am amazed at how I love my husband more each morning than I did the morning before- even when he's grumpy and sleepy in the early morning and, like this A.M., does especially funny things like yell at his alarm clock "ALARM OF SATAN!" as he turns it off.

This is my, albeit very public, love letter to him. Thank you for loving me unconditionally, for challenging me and always supporting my hair-brained ideas (Friday: "I want to learn how to make a cheesecake!" Sunday: "Let's move to Latin America so I can quit my job!" Monday: "I'm going to become a teacher so that I get MLK Day off!") I love you and can't wait to see where life takes us.

Your wife

A break from the insanity

2009-01-06T16:50:00.000-08:00

Okay fine, I don't have any more excuses for being so deplorably absent from my blog. First it was the office move prep that kept me busy, and then we were out of town for the holidays and finally, the new office is trying to kill me and rob me of my sanity. But by what I believe has to be divine intervention to get me to slow down for a second, I have come down with a nasty cold that has me sounding like a frog as my head threatens to implode. So, since I was ordered to go home today by my boss because I think she got tired of me trying to rasp out words and coughing all over the place, I have been given the much-needed time back to catch up on my blog.

And of course, I'm not really sure what to say. I admit it, my job is officially kicking my ass at the moment. Those of you who know me well know that I am a creature of habit, I don't particularly enjoy change. I like it to come gradually and not surprise me with something life-altering out of left field. As much as the office moving isn't exactly earth-shattering it has been enough change to have me feeling all off-kilter. I drive to work now after being a faithful bus rider for three years. I don't get to go by my old coffee shop in the market anymore where they knew my name and knew what I would order before I got to the counter. I have to learn new coding systems, keys and alarm codes. The part I like best about my job- the writing and editing- is on hiatus until I can get the office up and running.

I know, I know, I can hear you all grumbling now, and if you are actually still reading this, I'm actually impressed. But I just feel as if I am in a little glass snow globe that someone decided to shake up a bit. I'm still rooted in place, but there are all sorts of stuff flying around in the air I am trying to reorganize all over again- someone has thrown off "my groove" and it is exhausting trying to get back into again. Maybe its a little post-holiday let-down, maybe its the fact that its still blasted cold here or maybe just because I have a frog voice, but at the moment it seems like every ounce of energy is going towards this job (which most of you has never been my dream career, but rather the way to work into the dream job and what is okay for now) instead of things I love- my husband, my friends, writing, blogging. And as you can imagine, I don't like it.

I don't know what I need to fix it either. I mean I know I need this whole office move to be done with it, but I could use a swift kick in the pants at the moment to get myself going again. Any volunteers?

To the faithful...

2008-12-15T08:41:00.000-08:00

Dear faithful few readers,

I have not died, though you might not know it given the sad, neglected state of the blog. Though I have plenty of material to write about, I'm afraid the great "Seattle Magazine Moves to SODO 2009" project (short explanation: my office is moving and somehow, since God has a sense of humor, I have been put in charge of the whole thing and having to learn to be patient and cling to God for support. It's good for me, but boy, is it painful at times) has taken over most of my waking hours and the precious few left are reserved for the hubby and trying to escape for the holidays to see family. So, I am taking a short, self-imposed break but will be back in the New Year with lots of updates and being my usual, smart-assy (is that a word? I like it, so whatever)self. Many happy wishes and have a lovely holiday season with your loved ones, catch you in 2009.

A Bed For One

2008-11-18T14:27:00.000-08:00

It's funny how quickly you can get used to certain things. For 23 years of my life, I slept alone except on those rare family vacations where Kelsey and I would keep each other up all night kicking one another in the hotel bed we had to share. I like having my own space to sleep, to stretch out as much as I like and have the covers just as I liked. I slept well, I dare say great even.

After just 8 weeks of marriage, I've found out I can't sleep without Casey in the bed with me. He's been gone for 2 nights on business and I have slept like crap. Last night, I read until my eyes were about ready to fall out of my head, but as soon as I turned out the light, I tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity, all alone in my big bed.

The ironic part is that we don't even touch when we're sleeping normally. He has his side and I have mine but I know he's there. And of course, even though he's gone I can't enjoy the luxury of sleeping in the middle of the bed, I have to sleep on my side so when I look over there is a big gapping hole in his spot where he should be, cuddled up with the covers thrown over his head when he's trying to pretend his still asleep in the morning, and usually a leg hanging off the side.

I would understand it if we had been married and sharing a bed for decades but its been 8 weeks- its pretty amazing how quickly the little habits of marriage seem right and natural and anything resembling your single life is completely foreign, and for me at least, non too pleasant anymore. Come back hubby so I can get some sleep!!

The word of the day: CHEF

2008-11-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

I am such a culinary goober. While other people might get excited and drool over themselves when they run into movie stars and sports legends, I get completely tongue-tied and dorky when I see celebrity chefs. Maybe its because, lord knows, I love food, or maybe because I'm envious of their talent, or maybe because there has always been a part of me that wanted to go to culinary school. The day I met Tom Douglas still ranks among my best days ever (don't worry not above my wedding day or anything but definitely better than my rain soaked college graduation) and if I ever saw a Top Chef contestant I would demand an autograph.

So, as you can imagine I just about peed my pants last night when I met two of Seattle's best chefs: Scott Staples and Matt Dillon. I was playing bouncer to one of our uber-swanky work parties and as soon as I saw their names on the door list, I started to cross my fingers, just hoping they would actually show up. And oh my gosh, I may have mentioned this before, but I was such a goober when they did. When Matt Dillon walked in, I didn't even wait for him to say his name before I thrust out my hand and said, "Hi! I'm Kate and I love your food." No joke. Word for word, like I was teenage girl you just saw the cast of High School Musical. I had to repress a girlish giggle even. I'm not sure whether he was flattered or thought I was like a stalker but he laughed so oh well. Scott Staples and I had a less embarrassing moment but at the end of the party I marched up to him and told him point blankly that we loved Quinn's and had a great time and managed not to be quite so well, gooberish in doing so. I think. Possibly. Actually probably not. Oh well.

But seriously, people you would thought have I'd died and gone to heaven- I was that excited. My co-worker looked at me with this look like, "Seriously? That wasn't Justin Timberlake you just met or anything" And then, to make it all this even better, I am still on Cloud 9 today because tonight, TOP CHEF premieres. OH yeh, baby.

It's official...and in other news....

2008-11-10T08:56:00.000-08:00

... I am now a Calamusa! Well, at least as far as Washington state is concerned. Saturday morning we drug ourselves out of bed to get to the Greenwood DMV before it opened and managed to get out of there with a name change and a brand-new Washington state license for Casey in less than 30 minutes. (Non-Seattle folks, this is an amazing feat, I have never, never gotten in and out of a DMV so fast nor actually had a friendly person help me who actually managed to stay cheery when I asked dumb questions like, "So do I sign with my new or old name?") Now I just have to find the Social Security office that is supposedly downtown somewhere so I can change the name there. I can't imagine I would get lucky enough to get through THERE in under an hour with cheery help so I suppose there will be an entire post soon on that fun adventure....

..... I worked in the children's department at church yesterday which I do every couple of weeks and we had an odd collection of just little girls and no little boys. We were asking them what they wanted to be when they grow up and all three piped up, "A MOM!" I had kind of forgotten that at 3 years old outside of being a princess or a ballerina that is pretty much what all little girls- including myself- want to do and I started to wonder at what point in our lives do we start to get it hammered in to us that we have to do MORE than that, that we can't be just moms, we have to have a career as well.

They asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up (which I love the idea that I am actually not grown-up yet but as we discuss car insurance and perhaps buying a house, it seems less and less likely we are still kids.) I told them I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I got a whole bunch of blank stares. One little girl named Ella crinkled up her nose and said, "But is that any fun?" in a tone that clearly stated she didn't think it would be. I told them that it was a lot of fun and that I got to write stories about people and sometimes I even made up stories for the book I was writing (oh gosh, confession time, see below). This seemed to appease them a little bit and after that Ella decided she too would like to be a writer but only if she could still be just like her mom as well. Sounds good to me kid.

..... And following up on the aforementioned book, yes I am writing a book or least trying to. I hate to even post it up here because I am really embarrassed that I have the audacity to think I am even capable of writing one, but I have to try. It is something I have always wanted to, in fact, the life dream would be to stay at home, drink coffee and write and ACTUALLY HAVE SOMEONE WANT TO BUY THE MANUSCRIPT. I have been working on an idea for several years actually and unfortunately haven't written a thing in months, but as part of my "official" post, I am official vowing to start working on it again. Really. Someone ask me every once and a while how its going just to keep me accountable. This means you Mom. This is your "Mom Job"- nag your daughter and make sure she actually gets something down on paper instead of randomly blogging about trips to the DMV.

Hypocrite

2008-11-07T13:37:00.000-08:00

I find it ironic that I by no means update my blog everyday, heck I'm lucky if I get one post up a week, but that I get miffed if my favorite blogs don't update like several times of day for my reading enjoyment. Huh. I'm going to hang my head in shame now while I think up at least a few good posts.

Kate's discovery of the day....

2008-11-04T14:07:00.000-08:00

I know this will make me sound like an old-timer, but is Christmas coming earlier this year? I swear I usually have to wait at least a few more weeks for this one. Usually I would argue about Christmas starting way too early (its November 4th for crying out loud, but happy election day and thanks for the advice on voting gals, I appreciate your wise thoughts and as Holly suggested maybe I'll just run myself next time ;) but I love this one so much I don't even care:

Peppermint mocha time has arrived at Starbucks! Wooppee! Sneaking out of work right now to snag one....

Voting Conundrum

2008-11-03T10:19:00.000-08:00

I usually keep this blog to more light-hearted subject matter, but like most Americans I would imagine, its hard sometimes to be optimistic in the times we are facing with our economic crisis and the upcoming election tomorrow. I like to keep myself pretty well informed and ever since I turned 18 I have voted in every election and primary I could. But this year, I find myself dragging my feet because well frankly, I have been extremely disillusioned with the entire election process. Don't even get me started on the fact that I have had to watch more Darcy Burner v. Dave Reicher mud-slinging than I thought was humanly possible and I can't even vote on them because we're not in their district or that if I have to watch one more Gregoire or Rossi informercial I am going to pull my hair out, but here's my big question:

Do I vote for someone if I don't think they are the right man for the job just for the sake of voting?

Let me put it this way, both Obama and McCain pretty much terrify me when I think of them leading our nation, both for very different reasons. I won't go into my entire inner debate, but while I like aspects of both of their plans, I don't think either of them will really be able to do all they promise. It feels very apathetic and unpatriotic to me to not vote, but at the same time I really don't feel comfortable checking either box. The ballot is sitting on my desk and I would need to mail it in today, but I'm not sure I will.

I'm more than willing to have someone to convince me otherwise but to be honest people, its awfully discouraging to even myself that I just don't even care anymore and want the whole thing to be over with, with my vote or not. I just know that putting that thing in the mail won't make me feel any better, in fact it may make me feel like even more of a sell-out to vote for someone I don't even believe in.

Wedding Recap #2 Is Up!

2008-10-24T09:32:00.001-07:00

Again, same place as last time:

http://www.seattlebridemag.com
http://www.orbridemag.com

And yes, I promise to come up with some original blogging material for this blog soon!

The wedding recap has commenced...

2008-10-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

....over on the Bride sites and since I am way too lazy to post in both places, I'll just send you there. They're under the Blog sections per usual.

http://www.seattlebridemag.com
http://www.orbridemag.com

SWOON: The wedding pics are here!

2008-10-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

Wow! James McCormick, you are one talented man! That's all I can say!!!

http://www.studiocoburg.com/wedding%20galleries/calamusa/index.html

In case anyone was wonderning...

2008-10-17T13:03:00.000-07:00

The neighbor is still hocking up giant loogies every morning for my enjoyment. Blech.

Reasons why I looooooove being married, #1

2008-10-13T14:28:00.000-07:00

I suppose it won't always be like this but the thing I love most about marriage at the moment is the fact that it feels like you are at a giant slumber party at your best friend's house ALL THE TIME, full of movies, popcorn, pjs, giggling in bed but with the added benefit of cuddling with your cute sleepy hubby as well (who is extra-special cute when he's sleepy.... and extra-special grumpy cute when you try to get him out of bed in time for work in the morning.)

Things we learned on the teeny, tiny island of Rarotonga

2008-10-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

It's here, it's here! The long-awaited tale of the honeymoon! Okay, so maybe you haven't been anticipating it, but I have been meaning to sit down and write it for weeks, so at least I have been excited to relay to you the following thoughts: what we learned in the Cook Islands:

1. SHOES ARE ALWAYS OPTIONAL. Seriously, while driving, in restaurants, on scooters, everyone was barefoot- as a long flip flop worshipper, I was instantly enthralled.

2. IF THERE IS A MUD PUDDLE, CASEY WILL FIND IT. We spend a morning ATVing through the jungle (words cannot even describe how amazingly beautiful it was) and we came back a little sunburned and very muddy because the driver who shall not be named made it his/her special mission to plow through every mud hole on the island. Note: there is ONE paved main road on the island, hence lots of dirt roads, hence after the pouring tropical rain of the day before, LOTS of mud.

3. HONOR THY WELL-ENDOWED GODS. The first time we walk into the hotel, in the middle of the lobby, we notice something, something well odd and to our childish brains, quite funny. On either side of the big double doors are huge wooden statues that look like some sort of local legend, god...and our eyes travel from the massive size of the statue to the massive, well, ahem, ding-a-ding-ding he's a sportin'. And we saw him (who turned out to be a fertility god) everywhere, in gift shops in small form, as a decorative embellishment at the hotel, ON THE BACK OF THE $3 BILL. And every time, IT WAS HUGE. (Check out the assets in the picture).

4. HONOR THY FAMILY AND NEIGHBORS. On a more serious note but no less interesting, we learned a lot about the local Cook Island culture. There is no such thing as buying and selling land on Raro (yep, that's what locals call it, we're in the know)- every family is given a plot of land and it is always theirs. They can lease out the land for 60 years but everything is passed down generation to generation. As a result, they bury their family members on the land to keep them nearby, even in death. The cemeteries are where foreigners are buried, locals are buried on the land. They also will tell you there are no homeless people, and there doesn't seem to be, everyone takes care of their family and of each other.

5. PAW PAW (AKA PAPAYA) GIVES KATE GAS. Casey thought there was a sulfur leak in our room until I finally 'fessed up, aww the romance. Aaaaand, moving on....

6. WE ARE EITHER INSANE.... OR JUST FROM SEATTLE. On Wednesday we took this amazing mountain tour in and around the island, looking at sacred sites and getting into the mountain interior. We sat in the back of a pickup truck (no seatbelts, no helmets, no insurance waiver, some US lawyer would have had a heart attack) and climbed up a muddy narrow trail into the interior in the pouring rain- and we were loving it. When we got to the top of the summit, Casey and I were the ONLY people to climb out of the truck to enjoy the view and take pictures--the other 20 people we were with stayed inside just because it was torrentially downpouring. Bunch of pansies.

7. CROISSANTS ARE AMAZING. Apparently, I went halfway around the world to decide I love croissants. In fact, I love them so much I had one (cough, cough, "Two!" Casey says) every morning at breakfast. After about the fifth day of this, my new husband asks me as I am jamming up my little slice of buttery heaven, "You do know they have those in America don't you?"

8. IF YOU HAVE WONDERED IF JURASSIC PARK IS REAL, WONDER NO MORE. On our tour around the island, we see up ahead of us around the bend a massive hotel complex. Only, as we get a little closer, we see that there aren't any people around, and there is an old sign out front saying "Hilton Rarotongan Resort" and then underneath " Investment opportunity." There are vines overgrowing the sign, all over the buildings, over the half-completed entrance. And then we get the story. Construction was started in 1985, something went south right before they were finished with construction and the hotel has sat there for the last 20 YEARS completed vacant and unused. There have been many owners but everyone has run out of funds or the government hasn't let them finish so it has just sat there, in prime beachfront location. The locals joke about it, calling it Jurassic Park because it seriously looks just like Jurassic Park in the second movie when they come back and its all grown over. I honestly expected a T-Rex to coming pouncing out at us at any second.

9. DON'T PUT YOUR CAMERA IN YOUR BACK POCKET. Because then you sit on it and break the LCD screen on the second day of your honeymoon and don't know what you are taking pictures of the entire time. Smart.

10. RARO IS A FISH AND SNORKELING PARADISE. The entire island is surrounded by a natural reef, which means the waves break about 300 yards off the beach. You can walk out those 300 yards in about chest deep water, completely surrounded by tropical fish of all colors, shapes and sizes- absolutely amazing. The area is also home to a different type of dark oyster that produces a greenish black pearl instead of a white one, and they are everywhere for the buying- you can buy handfuls of pearls at the Saturday market.

11. THE RARO CHICKEN POPULATION MAY SOON OUTNUMBER THE HUMANS. Literally everywhere. On the road, in yards, in houses, in restaurants at your feet while you are eating. And they don't seem to belong to anyone, just a bunch of chickens making more little baby chickens all over the island. And by the way, some sort of strange strain of rooster that doesn't understand you are only supposed to crow in the MORNING.

12. NEW ZEALAND ACCENTS ARE EVEN MORE BRILLIANT ON KIDS. Little kids from Zealand, running around saying things like, "The weather has been rubbish every since we got her Mummy." Freaking adorable.

13. WE DO NOT LIKE MARAMITE. We tried, we really did, but whooo, boy that must be an acquired taste. Hand me another croissant please.

As the Aussies and Kiwis would say,

Cheers!

We're BAAAAAACK....

2008-09-30T23:07:00.000-07:00

... as Mr and Mrs Calamusa! My head is still spinning from the last couple of weeks, from the wedding to the blissful week in the Cook Islands to back at the apartment as husband and wife! I'll go into more details about the wedding in coming posts, but in short, it was an all together amazing day, incredibly stress free (seriously people I surprised even myself with how calm I was pre-wedding) and the best moment of my entire life was hearing the pastor say, " I now pronounce you husband and wife" and looking into the tear-filled eyes (he got a little weepy folks, it was so adorable!) of my brand-new husband! I'll post links to pics ASAP and then fill you on on all the new customs we learned about in Raro! I am so excited to get caught up with y'all!!

That must be one GIANT loogie....

2008-09-10T15:51:00.000-07:00

Moving into a new place is always interesting. There are new smells to get used to, new creaks and groans in the floor and of course, new noises. The first time you hear these things, it sends you into a bit of a panic until you figure out what it is- especially if you are there by yourself- I've had a few moments since moving in, including one last night trying to figure out the gurgling noise coming from the bathroom and why water was coming UP the bathtub drain instead down like a normal tub.

But one new noise either has me giggling or gagging every morning but more importantly it happens EVERY morning, which sort of fascinates me. Apparently our bathroom/shower window faces the adjacent apartment building's bathroom windows as well. Mind you that they are across the parking lot from each other like 40 feet away, but by some odd twist of sound mechanics, I can hear everything that is going on in the other building's bathrooms. Showers going on and off, sink faucets turning, talking.

Well, one of my new neighbors has a bit of a morning routine. Before getting into the shower, he apparently has to stand in front of his sink and hock the biggest loogie known to mankind. Multiple times. Every gosh-darned morning. At first, I just thought maybe he had a cold or something, but without fail at 7 a.m. as I am stepping out of the shower, wait for it, here's comes the looooooogie! On mornings when I'm somehwhat coherent, this gives me the giggles, but when I'm a little tired and groggy, nothing says "Good morning! You're about to call in sick!" like listening to all that hocking. And the funniest part is the guy is like 40 feet away from me but I can literally hear him spitting phelgm (gosh guys, I probably should have warned you not to be eating while reading this, sorry!) like he is a yard away. He is either the loudest human being ever or I have moved into some sort of bizarre sonic portal, which makes me worry about making ANY noises in my own bathroom.

Aww, Morning- Loogie- Man, part of my new morning routine...

One Address

2008-08-31T22:28:00.000-07:00

Welp, we did it folks. All of my stuff; all of Casey's stuff- all at the same address!! We spent our long weekend corralling my stuff into our (our!) apartment, and Casey's parents brought us a truckload of furniture from Oregon and it has been a lot of packing and moving for the past 48 hours- all capped off by a trip to Costco Home today to buy a mattress.

And of course, though I am still sitting her amongst boxes (hey, I have my priorities straight- must connect Internet so I can blog before unloading freezer food), the place already looks like a completely different than it did a few days ago. I don't know if it is the new furniture (we have a new leather easy chair that I talked my parents out of, it is my new favorite thing EVER. I plan on living in that chair) or the "big-person" bed, but my gosh, it looks like grown-ups live here. Though I am not sure who those grownups are since we spent our evening flopping on the new bed (not the same as jumping, much more mature!) and eating ice cream straight out of the carton.

But I live here now, this is my home. And it is a home I will share with Casey, my husband and I can't wait, because in three (what seem like very long) weeks, we will truly be here, together. Finally five years after spying each other in HIstory of Baseball class and three and half years after a dinner at the Spaghetti Factory, we will be living here as husband and wife- at one address.

Again?

2008-08-26T09:38:00.001-07:00

Our office got broken into. For the second time this MONTH. Which means for the second time in a month I am doing major damage control at the office and setting up equipment I do not know how to set up. Which means I have been at the office since 6:45 a.m. this morning which leaves no extra brain function for creative posts about nesting and unpacking our kitchen this week. But I shall return.....

Proud Parents....

2008-08-19T11:33:00.000-07:00

.... of a brand new, 4-slice ultra premium Cuisinart toaster.

Yes, last night we broke out and started putting away the first of the wedding gifts! I have steadily been throwing things into the apartment, basically just piling them into the bedroom. When I got the house last night after my last dress fitting (yippee skippy! Oh except for the fact that I probably should stop eating like horse for the next month so it still fits!) I found the darling fiance organizing and cleaning the place- taking apart his bed frame and oh my gosh, there is a God in heaven, one of the foliage trees was gone as well! Well, the organizing became contagious and we started looking around it is was obvious that the toaster had seen better days so off it went and out came the brand-new toaster. After spending about twenty minutes just trying to get it out of the box.... seriously.... out it came and there we sat there staring at the first brand-new appliance either of us ever owned.

Casey: " Whoa."
Kate: " Wow, it has like five different settings. There is even a specific one for bagels!!"
Casey: " Ahhhhhhh," pushes down a clean and shiny lever.
Kate: "Oooh," pushes down other lever.
Casey: "Oh sweet, it has pull-out crumb cleaning trays!"

After this rather noise-heavy conversation (seriously reminiscent of cave people when discovering fire I should think...) we put it in a place of honor on top of the fridge to live for a few days and to get used to its new surroundings. Of course, then I got too excited and starting pulling more things out of boxes, becoming seriously entertaining by the most high-tech salad spinner known to mankind. Casey got excited too and yelled, "I'm so 'cited!!" and hopefully he means about moving in with me and not just about getting to use such a spiffy new toaster. Though I can't really blame him if its true, did I mention it can toast 4 slices at the same time on 4 different settings??? How can a girl compete with that?

Not A Good Sign

2008-08-18T12:00:00.001-07:00

You know that perhaps your job isn't the greatest and that just perhaps it is time to start considering a career move when your first reaction to the thought of getting fired is not of sheer horror or panic but this instead:

" That would sure save me the trouble of quitting. Plus I could go home early- AWESOME!"

Yeesh.

Olympic Fever!

2008-08-11T16:13:00.000-07:00

So you know how in your wedding vows you promise to love someone in good times and bad, for better for worse, in sickness and in health? Well, yesterday Casey found out my sickness. That's right, I have Olympic Fever.

I'm sorry but I am obsessed people. I don't know what it is but I could spend ALLLLL day watching road cycling or fencing or any type of sport if it has little 5-ring emblem at the bottom of the screen. I spent the entire 3 hours I spent at the trendy W Hotel this weekend tucked into the covers watching beach volleyball. Watching what would become the most depressing Mariner game ever I soon found out that I could see Michael Phelps win gold in the 200m on the TV in the owner's box if I craned my neck, bent over at a 90-degree angle and then sat on my hands to make a booster seat- so I did. I made Casey watch like 6 straight hours yesterday and drove him home at a lightning pace so I didn't miss any women's gymnastics (to be fair at last I was a good enough wifey to make him dinner during all that). I have so much national pride right now and I did a little victory dance when our good ol' boys just flat out beat the trash-talking French to win gold in 400m relay. And now, sitting her mid-day, I wish I could go home and do it all over again tonight or even better call in sick tomorrow, and watch all day as well. I've got it bad.

If we were already married I'd say, "Too bad, you promised to love me in sickness and in health so you'll just have to accept it" but he hasn't actually made that promise yet so I am sincerely hoping that he decides he can deal with my current malady. Hey, at least it only lasts for two weeks right?.... Every two years that is.... for the next 50-some odd years.... for a grand total of 25 more Olympic games..... Gulp....Please still marry me baby ;).

Merge!

2008-08-04T14:17:00.000-07:00

I officially dropped off the first box of stuff at Casey's- err, I mean OUR- apartment last night. Nothing grand or big but at the end of the night I LEFT IT THERE and I don't intend on taking it back. I'm going to start shuffling small loads here and there and pretty soon, my presence will be felt all over the place-ha ha ha evil laugh cackle cackle. The bachelor pad (and I mean bachelor people, with movie posters, hand me down couches, an N64 and leftovers from the 3 boys that have lived there this year) is about to get a surprise: a woman.

I admit it feels a little weird to be moving in to the apartment where the boys have roamed the last year. I felt kind of awkward leaving the stuff there last night mostly because I have always tried to be respectful of his space in the way he is of mine. But now (almost officially, we won't actually both be living there until after the 'moon) it is OUR space and well, I certainly doesn't feel like my space at all yet. It will, but not right now. Casey, bless his heart realizes this and bought cleaning supplies to spruce up the place (I'm sorry I'm neat and tidy and I realize its a sickness but I don't like dirty dishes piling up in the sink! Ahh, the horror!) and has promised to clean and move out stuff before I come in.

Which brings me to the real purpose of the post: the merging of the stuff. The question has become what do we throw out? What do we keep? What of his can't I stand and which of my stuff does he want to pitch before it ever even crosses the threshhold? How do we make two separate people's stuff into our stuff for our home? I can tell its going to take some negotiating. For example: the foliage.

I have been told that the plastic trees that have graced the apartment for the last couple of years must stay. Last night, I tried to gently ask whether or not the plastic foliage might be negotiable, in other words, honey can we maybe get rid of these? I might not have come across as subtly as I have hoped (though I am not sure what about "so do we HAVE to keep the foliage? I mean, really do we have to???" isn't subtle) and Casey was crestfallen at the idea of life without his trees. "But I like living things in the apartment. When I come home on gray Seattle ideas I like green things, it brightens my day." Great, so now if I take them away I am the mean lady who won't let him have the ONE thing that brightens his day. So the trees stay, although perhaps not in their current location.

In similar fashion, I have a few things the Musanator could do without as well. Case in point, last year I bought what I thought was a fantastic mirror for us. He took one look at it and said " It looks like the batman signal" which I would have thought was a good thing, but apparently not because the other day he looked at it and said with his nose crinkled up, "So is the Batman mirror making the trip?" in a tone that clearly stated he hoped not. I don't think my obsession with throw pillows is going to go over well either....

It all reminds me of the Friends episode where Chandler and Monica are moving in together and can't decide where to put anything or what to do with their stuff. But, hopefully, just like us, they work out with laughter (oh there'll be lots of that, I was laughing so hard I was crying last night when Casey explained how important the plastic was to him) and figure out how to make two lives into one, a merging of sorts:

Chandler: You know what I was thinking for the bedroom?
Monica: What?
Chandler: You know how they have those signs on the highway that say MERGE? Well I was thinking thats kinda like us, merging our stuff and our lives together. So we could one of those signs and put it over the bed, like MERGE. Get it?
Monica: Oh yeh, that's a great idea.
Chandler: Really?
Monica: No.

Don't get any ideas Musanator- I'll let you keep your trees but you can forget the MERGE sign.

Next Month

2008-07-31T08:52:00.000-07:00

Sorry guys, I have been a little obsessed with blogging over at orbridemag.com (and now, seattlebridemag.com as well, ha ha. I'm taking over the Northwest!) so I have been a little slow to post here. But the beauty of having my own personal blog is that I am allowed to post all the inappropriate/non-bridey things here (believe it or not there are things going on in life that have nothing to do with the wedding or lots of wedding going ons that I would rather not have complete strangers read). That being said, regardless, this will be very bridey anyways.

Tomorrow is August 1st, which means starting tomorrow when someone says, "So, when is the wedding?" the correct response is "Next month." WHAT??? Holy Gee Willickers! When did that happen? I feel like I just posted at the 100 day mark on the bride site and now we are looking at like 51 days (not that I'm counting or anything!). Wowzers. On the one hand it feels like it has been a very long time since we got engaged, but I can't believe that the wedding is just around the corner.

It's also starting to hit me- my life is going to change. Dana and I won't be living together anymore, the bank accounts will merge, life decisions will become a joint effort as opposed to a singular one, going to the grocery store even will be different with different tastes in food (we are both fiercely loyal to our margarine brands-seriously), there will be a boy sleeping next to me in bed. I was correcting a proof at work yesterday with my contact information and changed everything to my new last name and email- there in front of me, was physical evidence that is getting close and getting real- kate.calamusa@tigeroak.com!

A part of me thinks I should be freaked out about it, but I'm really not. I know its going to be different and be an adjustment, that it will probably be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. There will be things we will both have to get used to as we live together and set up house and where to even set up that house is completely up in the air (the housing search is on a bit of a hiatus, I just couldn't take on another thing in the next 6 weeks). Whether we will stay at these jobs that we are both less than thrilled about at the moment is completely up in the air, maybe we'll be in Latin America by next summer, maybe not. If you know me AT ALL, you know that usually the "not knowing" would drive me up the wall. But, somehow, with Casey that just seems to be part of the adventure- we are a team now. I like not knowing where is life is going to take us, it doesn't really matter to me, because I have safety and security, respect and love in him and in God, and that is all I need. I'm sure there will be unforeseen difficulties and I'll shed a little tear about not being Kate Palmen anymore when the time comes. But the promises I have in being Kate Calamusa, in being a helpmate and teammate, the wife of a man whom I dearly love, the mother of his children, are amazing and I cannot wait until.... next month when the wedding ends and the real journey begins.

The difference between men and women...

2008-07-25T09:51:00.001-07:00

Last week, I spent like a half an hour in Fred Meyer picking out birthday cards for my mom and mom-in-law. Now that Case and I are (almost) a married couple, I figure we can now get away with those brithday cards "from both of us." Now, I don't believe in sappy birthday cards, no no they have to be funny, so after an exhaustive search through a lot of fluffy cards, I found a couple of acceptable cards as follows:

Card #1:
Little stick woman: "We hope your birthday is full of rainbows and ponies and sparkles!"
Little stick man: "I am not saying that."
Little stick woman: "Then what would you suggest?
Little stick man: "We hope your birthday is full of monster trucks, beer and babes on trampolines!"
Little stick woman: "That is so juvenile."
Inside card: "We'll just settle on happy birthday! What? It keeps the peace."

Card #2:
Picture of beaver on the front of the card that is both holding a flower and farting at the same time.
Inside card: She wanted to get you a sweet card, and I wanted to give you a funny one. So we settled on one that was both. Happy birthday."

The Moms loved their respective cards and they were quite funny, but I couldn't help but think they were a bit stereotypical of both men and women. I mean its a card so not's a big deal, but as a woman I enjoy a god fart joke sometimes and Case is not exactly the monster truck and beer type. When you watch sitcoms, it seems as these prototypical gender roles are larger than life: the wife yelling at the husband for watching tv, the husband always wanting sex but never getting any. And really, I doubt that these stereotypes have much truth to them. I mean, really.

Cut to this week and I am writing a thank you note to mom-in-law for the lovely duvet comforter and cover she gave us for my shower. Inside of that card:

Kate:
Dear Mike & Sharon,
Thank you so much for the duvet comforter and cover you gave us for the shower! It was so thoughtful of you and I so appreciate you coming all the way to Oregon for the shower. The comforter will look great in our bedroom and I can't wait to find matching throw pillows to go with it. We love you, thank you so much!

Casey:
Mom & Dad,
Way to buy us a present that will help ensure you have lots of grandkids. Thanks!

Oh.

An "In" With The Big Guy Upstairs

2008-07-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

God emailed me this week.

No joke.

I logged into my gmail account and in my inbox was an email from god@gmail.com (I guess God likes gmail just like us humans) telling me of a job for an assistant editor in Oregon posted on Craigslist (apparently, God also cruises Craigslist for his followers in his spare time. I wonder if he could find me a good deal on a couch) Ironically, I also got an email from youshoulddothis@gmail.com for another job posting the same day, but I'm not really sure who that guy is. Maybe God has an executive assistant, although that sounds like a good email for Jesus too.

I am really glad that God takes me the time to shoot me an email about job listings, I had been getting emails from myself about them which always kind of freaked me out because I didn't remember doing any job hunting on the internet. Normally, I would blame Mr. Calamusa, in fact I know he gets a kick out of confusing me by making me think I've lost my marbles because I DON"T remember emailing myself. But well, an email from God doesn't sound like something Casey would make up.... or would he? Oooh, I don't think you should impersonate God, that's a smoting offense. Like fire right out of the sky type stuff. Good thing it wasn't Casey then.

The Oh-My-Gosh-We're-Getting-Married Moment of the Day

2008-07-15T08:53:00.000-07:00

I obviously know we are getting married. I've got a fiance, a wedding ring and a dress to prove it. But every once and a while it just hits me like a ton of bricks that we are getting married and Casey and I will soon be living together as husband and wife! And its funny when these moments come because they are usually really small little things, like the moment last night.

One of Casey's buddies asked him to be, as he put it, a groomsdude in his wedding in December. When Case called last night, he called to check and make sure it was okay for him to commit to going to their wedding right before Christmas.

Case: " I just thought I should probably check with you first because its right before Christmas and well, I realized it may affect OUR plans. I guess we can figure out with work and such how we can see our families the next week. Maybe we can go to my parent's and then yours or something."

Kate's Thought: Sure, December is fine. Wait a minute, we will be married in December. We will be living together and spending Chrsitmas together for the first time, I'll be his wife then. Wow, we are getting married!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kate, out loud: "Sure, sounds good to me."

What a wonderful realization!

Too Busy To Blog?

2008-07-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

I realize it certainly looks that way from my lack of posting. And we are busy, busy beavers trying to get the invitations out the door by the end of the month (a LOT of people moved in between the time we sent out our STDs and now and who knew that it takes so long to stamp, stuff and address neatly??), house hunting ( I think we are up to 12 condos visited now? Sincerely enjoying the dreaming and scheming there) and working (the office got broken into this weekend, computers stolen and I'm picking up the pieces)-- so I sincerely apologize for my absence of late BUT I admit, I am starting to drag a little bit.

Life is going at a breakneck pace at the moment and there are so many exciting moments (bridal shower next weekend!) that I am trying to savor, but I am soooooo exhausted too. With so many different things going on I sometimes have to fight the urge to take a great, big GIANT nap. I also realize that life will slow down again after the wedding and am really looking forward to cuddling up with my husband (did I just say husband? yes, yes I did!) in our own place. So, suffice it to say, I have been feeling a little less than inspired and don't really feel like coming up with new ideas. So my poor Oregon Bride blog is suffering (I threw up some post about not working out today just to get one up there) which isn't good since that one is for work and they actually expect me to work on it. Sigh..... do they make energy bars for life? Cause I think I need a big fat one right about now.

I've been keeping a secret....

2008-06-23T12:01:00.001-07:00

So, I am amazed that I have actually managed to keep my mouth shut about this, but since it is official I can now tell you: Casey and I are in this month's issue of Seattle Bride! A couple of people at work caught wind of our cake tasting party this spring and next thing I know, we are on page 41 with a delightful little story about it all! And as many stories as I have written about other people, I have never been in a story myself, and let me tell ya: its kinda weird and kinda wonderful.

Jamaica, Bahama, ain't got nothing on.....

2008-06-09T15:44:00.000-07:00

Rarotonga. Ra-ro-ton-ga. Yep, that's a real (albeit small) place located smack dab in the middle of an ocean and where we are officially headed for the honeymoon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I am just a tad excited, can you tell?)

As some of you may know, September is hurricane season (something someone who works in Disaster Relief knows all too well...hmm, who might that be? The future hubby perhaps?) which immediately cut out some desired Caribbean spots for the 'moon, so we started looking in Mexico and almost booked something there. But then, as I was dinking around on Costco Travel I saw a link for the Cook Islands and (she sheepishly admits here) I didn't know where they were, so I clicked.

Uh, hello? Like paradise on earth right next to New Zealand and miles and miles and miles away from everyone. With snorkeling, hiking, beaches, rainforests and beach bungalows all on a 25-mile wide island that has one road that goes around the coastline and one flight in from L.A. a week, I got way too excited about spending some time n the Cook Islands and it didn't take long to convince the Musa to ditch Mexico for Rarotonga. ("Night snorkeling???")

So, as excited as I am about the wedding, I am gloriously and deliriously excited about the week afterwards spent as a Mr and Mrs in a far away tropical land.

The Maiden Voyage

2008-05-11T17:51:00.000-07:00

... of my glorious Kitchen Aid mixer.

I have looked forward to owning my own Kitchen Aid since I was a little girl. Kelsey and I used to mix batter in my mom's when she would let us help make cupcake and cookies and I have, in a very odd way, perhaps equated owning one with adulthood- I always looked forward to being a grown-up so I could have one. (Okay, there were other reasons I wanted to grow up, but the Kitchen Aid has always been on the list). I promise I am not alone in this either, in college I distinctly remember joking with the girls about wanting to get married so we could register for a Kitchen Aid and then we all discussed what color we wanted- oh so many choices, they have special spring colors! I have no idea why, but a Kitchen Aid is one of those things every woman wants, no man understands, but in many of our minds, having one on the counter is just domestic and culinary bliss.

So bless my mother's heart, she didn't even make me wait to register for my mixer after we got in engaged, I found it underneath the Christmas tree in December. It is a perfect butter yellow and is the BIG one- awww. It was an early wedding present so I promised not to use until we got married, plus Dana and I really have no where to put it so for the last 6 months it has been sitting in my closet staring at me, just begging to be used. When I go to throw something in the laundry bin, there's my Kitchen Aid. When I go to grab a belt, there's my mixer, when I put on my shoes, there's my mixer suffocating in the box. And. I. Can't. Take. It. Any. More.

So today I pulled out the box and whipped up a batch of perfectly whipped lemon cooler cookies, then cleaned every piece, stuck it back in the box and shoved it back in closet. And I feel so much better that I don't even care that I probably broke a serious bit of etiquette by using one our wedding presents 5 months before the wedding. Sorry Dear Abby, I couldn't help it.

Wedding Bee Addict

2008-05-07T11:10:00.000-07:00

I am so pathetic.

A couple of months ago, Holly introduced me to the ultimate wedding blog, The WeddingBee, which is essentially like 40 wedding blogs in one as different brides from all over the United States write about their weddings. I started reading it like once a week, but then there were so many posts to get through, I started to check more frequently, upping it to every couple of days and I would check whether Miss Shortcake (everyone has foodie/flowery/girlie pseudonyms) had bought a dress or how Miss Lovebug's centerpieces were turning out. And then I got sucked in. I read it every day and then multiple times a day, and now I check more often than my email and I JUST CAN'T MISS A POST. We went out of town for the weekend and the first thing I checked when we got home was- of course- what had been happening at The Bee. And of course, I would give anything to be a Bee!

I have valiantly tried to justify my addiction to myself. "Look at all the great wedding ideas I have gotten from the Bee," which is true but hardly justification for checking it 3 times a day. But I can't give it up because in an odd way, I feel like I know these girls and as a bride I love knowing that someone else UNDERSTANDS how fun (and hard) wedding planning can be.

So for the next months, I fully intend to bask in my short-lived addiction to the Wedding Bee while I still can because I really can't justify it once I am a married lady who no longer needs ideas for place cards. But all this has got me wondering: what DID I used to do on the Internet? I must have looked at SOMETHING, but for the life of me I don't remember much before Bee Land. I hear a rumor that there are newspapers online but I think thats just hogwash.

I think I need a hobby. Does blogging count?

A New Beginning...

2008-05-06T09:01:00.000-07:00

Okay, perhaps I have jumped the gun a little bit by naming the new blog "The Newlywed Game," but my reasons are good, I promise.

1. Wedding planning stories are way too funny for you to miss out on, plus if I wait until we are married then I have no place to insert my sarcastic comments for the next 5 months and that my friends, would be tragic.

2. Although I am blogging for Oregon Bride magazine (shameless plug: check out my blog at http://www.orbridemag.com), there are things I cannot get away with mentioning on the blog because they are either inappropriate or have nothing to do with being a quote-unquote Oregon bride, like the delightful little story of the poor Parties To Go people being traumatized on their visit out to the wedding site after they saw an 80-year-old-man. Mowing the lawn. Buck naked. I mean buck naked people. Welcome to our classy Oregon wedding!

3. The college blog, in all its glory, no longer really applies to this new phase in our lives and its time to retire it to the green pastures of Collegeland. I started it my sophomore year when I didn't know what to do with my life, was still adjusting to life on my own, had just started to date Casey and was just a little bit awkward. I mean now its completely different: I don't know what to do with my life, I'm adjusting to life on my own, I am MARRYING Casey and man, I'm just so awkward. Oh wait. Never mind....

4. The freelancing gigs, for the time being, have dried up like the Sahara Desert due to some seriously fun corporate issues at work, so I desperately need an outlet to write- so sorry, you guys are stuck listening to me chat about new things including trying not to become a Bridezilla while trying to become a super crafty, do-it-yourself bride, trying to decide whether to buy or rent a place and in a very short amount of time living with a boy for the first time.

5. Oh, because blogger is free and because I can.