Recently, my friend Heather was having a birthday. I really wanted to give her a present that sent the message, "Hey friend. You're someone I give a shit about," but, I didn't have a lot of time to make her something handmade-- which is my usual go-to way of telling someone they are important to me.
Luckily, last winter, I worked out a pattern for a warm winter hat that knits up in just a few hours. All it took was one nap time, and this hand-knitted token of my affection was cranked out and ready for the snow.
When Heather opened it, I could tell she really knew how much I gave a shit about her. I'm posting it here for you all, so that you too can knit up quick, cute, gifts-- hopefully in time for Christmas.
I also created this absolutely amazing Christmas card, which Sean quickly refused to send out. I guess we all know how ungrateful Sean really is to me for making him and Millie such incredible STAR WARS themed halloween costumes.
I am still in disbelief that Sean has vetoed this card.
I hope you all have a really good Christmas (Endor happy new year!), and that you get to spend your holiday with people you totally, absolutely, give 100% of a shit about!
As many of you know, my sister Tori has been living with us for the past year. She's been taking a "gap year" from college. If we were rich people, she'd probably spend this gap year volunteering on organic farms in Italy, staying in lots of stinky hostels, and doing some obscure language immersion program. But, since we're not rich people, instead she did an immersion program in "working for a living," which gave her valuable insight in how much it blows to be a grown up person. Wisely, she has decided to return to the aderol-fueled, two showers a week, shuffle-board-is-a-real-sport, reality that is American academia. In a few weeks, she be moving to Athens, Ohio, where she will be attending Thirsty Thursdays Ohio University. She's only got a month to go before school starts, and she still needs to find housing, so in desperation, she recently crafted this roommate wanted ad for Craigslist: subject: Transfer student seeking roommate
My name is Tori. I'm a 22 year old transfer student who will be moving
to Athens in August. I am looking for an apartment/ house or potential
roommates. I have no gender preference about roommates. I will be
studying wildlife biology. I am returning to school after taking some
time off to work. I am very responsible and respectful. I would prefer
something within 15-20 minute walking distance or closer to campus. I
have a 6 year old lab mix named River, so I would prefer something pet
friendly. I am hoping for something under $550 including utilities.
My main concern is that this add is boring misleading, because it is in no way an accurate representation of how much my sister kicks ass. Tori is fun, friendly, and-- if you are hungover---will cook you a fried egg sandwich that would make Paula Deen look like Jenny Craig. That's why today, she and I crafted this revised craigslist ad, which I think we all can agree will attract the caliber of roommate she so richly deserves:
Subject: Transfer Student seeking wealthy heiress as roommate
I am a 22 year old transfer student who will be moving to
Athens this fall. I am seeking a roommate, preferably someone who is a wealthy
heiress who could support my extravagant lifestyle of PBR and craft mac and
cheese. I am seeking a pet friendly place because I have a dog. I know that a
dog should appeal to an heiress although my 70 pound lab mix probably won't fit
in your purse. You are welcome to try it as long as you pay for any resulting
damage.... to your expensive purse.
About me: I will be studying wildlife biology, so I'm
interested in a roommate whose parents might be willing to make donations to
the penniless conservation organizations I will be working for in the future.
I'm originally from the mountains of North Carolina. I am sassy and southern
and would make a hilarious counterpoint to your privileged heiress upbringing.
I'm a hippie who is not at all materialistic so you can count on me to be
respectful of all your expensive shit.
With everything I am bringing to the table all I ask is that
you pay for 95% of the rent and 100% of the utilities. In return I'll kill 100%
of spiders*, and cook you tons of delicious vegetarian meals. Oh-- I
forgot to tell you, I'm a vegetarian, so (by default) now you are too. I
know your rich ass doesn't know how to cook for yourself.
* By "kill" spiders, what I actually mean is catch
them in an overturned cup and release them outside-- I'm not a monster!
Applicants
can respond by email or by social media. If there are not pictures of you and
Pharrell Williams on your instagram, you need not apply.
I know what you're thinking. "Your sister is hilarious!" I know. After reading that you probably all want to be my sister's roommate, which is totally understandable. If you happen to know a rich heiress who is looking for a quirky hippie sidekick, please let Tori know immediately. Also, if you are Pharrell Williams, please come to Tori's going away party at our house. The party may get rowdy, but we can pretty much guarantee that the next morning Tori will cook you a fried egg sandwich.
Today we celebrated Millie's first birthday. That's right, Millie is ONE. I was racking my brain trying to decide what AWESOME gift we could get her, when I realized that she won't remember it anyways. So, if she ever asks you about it, please tell her that for her first birthday we got her a pony but it already died.
*The pony's name was Thunder, and it had a rainbow mane.
** No young lady! Of course you can't have another pony! Not after you let the first one die!
I know I'll always remember today-- the way we woke Millie up by singing "Happy Birthday" as she bounced in her crib, how it felt to watch her open her first birthday present, and the surgical precision in which she disemboweled her birthday cake----but I'm worried that Millie will forget all about this time of her life. That's why, for her birthday I've decided to make her this time capsule, to remind her of all the most important things in her life at year one. Dear Millie, Happy birthday little one! If you're reading this time capsule, you are probably already really mad at me, because you have found this blog.* *Just kidding, you can't stay mad at me!I bought you a pony! Anyways, here is a sample of a few of the most important things in your life at age one: #1: Kingsley Snuggle Bear
You may not remember him now, but he used to be pretty much the center of your universe. He went to bed with you every night, and protected you from all the dangers of the world, such as homemade peach baby food and non-xylophone based musical expression. #2: Cup
Did you know that you could say "cup" when you were 8 months old? It's true. Say it with me now. "Cup." Feel good? There was a time in your life when you had no greater thrill than to say "cup" repeatedly. Every morning when you would wake up, you would look at me urgently and yell "CUP!" to me until we walked into the living room and found your cup.
3#: The Television Remote
Oh what wonders lie within this magical device? What secrets will you unlock? What treasures will you seek? With what courage and fortitude will you display SUBTITLES. Millie, there was a time in which you could operate a television remote with such alarming dexterity that all but the most sophisticated technophile was POWERLESS TO STOP YOU. *note to self- The next time Millie is bored, take her to best buy and let her wreak havoc on the AV salesmen. ** other note to self- while I am there, ask them to show me how to make these subtitles stop displaying. # 4:Bedtime Songs
When you were young Millie, I would sing you to sleep every night. I would cradle you in my arms and sing "swing low" and "edelweiss" and "plastic Jesus" to you until you shut your tiny, exhausted eyes. Then, I would creep into the other room and write snarky blog posts and drink wine, because even mommies need a break sometimes. And by "break" I mean "drink." #5: ROAR ROAR
This is the title of a book that you used to really love. "ROAR ROAR" was not much of a verbal masterpiece, but it did have some pretty sweet photos of tigers, bears, and a creepy little panda cub with a fury crotch. Every day you would beg for us to read ROAR ROAR, and then you would snatch the book out of our hands and throw it across the room shouting "ROAR ROAR!" You are awesome. *more fury than a normal Panda crotch I mean. ** let me explain. Here is the photo of the panda crotch I'm talking about.
It will be 15 years until you read this Millie, and by then *fingers crossed* you'll have learned not to pet panda crotches, and you probably won't let me sing you to sleep anymore. We'll probably still be fighting over the remote, but at least you'll be able to retrieve your own cup. Little one, I want you to know that no matter how many birthdays you have, I'll always be here with you, delighting in the things you love, and loving them because they are important to you (except your boyfriends, I will hate those guys.) I also want to make sure that you never ever forget THUNDER, your awesome childhood pony. There's no need to thank us Millie, that's just the kind of parents we are. Happy Birthday Baby Girl!
Lately I've been really into a certain iconic songwriter and I want you to guess who it is. I'll give you a hint. This person is:
a.) One of the great american songwriters of all time
b.) Owner of some of the perkiest boobs of all time
If you answered Dolly Parton, you got it right. If you didn't answer Dolly Parton, it's pretty obvious that you don't know shit about her. You might think that just because Dolly is a sweet southern blonde with titties the size of aquatic mooring buoys, that she couldn't be a good songwriter. You couldn't be more wrong. Did you know that Dolly wrote "I Will Always Love You," the theme to The Bodyguard and Whitney Houston mega hit? Do you remember Ghetto Superstar? The catchiest song at your 9th grade homecoming dance? Yeah, Dolly made that melody famous in 1983, so you've really got her to thank for that hot sophomore named Justin who squeezed your butt that night. YOU'RE WELCOME JUSTIN. Perhaps now you're beginning to see why, of all people, Dolly Parton has the social cachet to start her own theme-park.*
*I am not making that up. It is called Dollywood, and I want to go there for my birthday.
Undoubtedly, one of Dolly's best songs is the heart-wrenching gal-to-gal plea, Jolene. In this song, Dolly sings to a red haired vixen named Jolene and begs her not to steal her man-- even though she totally could. If you are unfamiliar with this song, here is a video of Dolly singing it from 1974, in which she wears a purple bellbottom pantsuit and TOTALLY PULLS IT OFF.
The word you're looking for is "adorable."
Because I love Dolly so much, I've recently learned to play Jolene on my guitar. I'm usually not one to criticize a master songwriter like Miss Parton, but I'm having trouble finding the song to be very relatable. Why didn't Dolly just beat Jolene's ass? That's what I would have done. Also, I'm finding it hard to believe that a woman who was as beautiful as Dolly and in possession of so many pimped out purple pantsuits would ever have to worry about her man's wandering eye. It's just not realistic.
That's why last night I wrote a few new verses to the song Jolene. Nothing could ever touch Dolly's original, but I hope it can do justice to the way I feel about Jolene. Jolene, if you're reading this, I want you to know that you don't have a chance in hell of taking Dolly's man. I'm serious. NOT A CHANCE. So here you go Dolly, I've got your back girl and hope to see you next fall-- as you may have heard, I'll be coming to Dollywood for my birthday.
I know what you're thinking "Don't be so dramatic Katie, how cold could it really be?"
I would like to respond to your question with a visual aid:
I accept your apology.
This is not a joke thermometer. I did not buy it in some sort of sick joke shop. This is the the actual thermometer outside of our garage, and it basically reads "Get BACK INSIDE, Ass-Faces."
I want to design a new sort of thermometer, which screams at people whenever it is below zero degrees outside. If, for instance, it was 5 degrees below zero, and someone was trying to scrape off their car and go to work, this thermometer would scream at them "HEY. You have paid sick days and a Hulu Plus subscription-- don't be a hero."
Or, if it was MUCH colder than that---as cold for instance, as it is in Ohio today--- the thermometer would scream dramatically: "You can't go out there! Your Taun-Taun will freeze before it reaches the first marker!" and then you could shout defiantly back at your Thermometer: "Then I'll see you in Hell!!" And then you would try to reach your office anyways.
This video, entitled "Luke Skywalker, Worst Scout Ever" made me laugh so hard I peed cried.
(Ok fine. I peed.)
Incidentally, I have never been gladder that Sean commutes to work via bicycle rather than by Taun-Taun, because those things are pretty unreliable in the cold.
Look at this Taun-Taun. That thing is already dead.
But can we get serious for a minute?
I THINK THERE ARE DEMENTORS OUTSIDE OUR WINDOWS.
Things are looking positively eldritch at our house right now, and I think of all people I've seen Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban enough times to know a Dementor attack when I see one.
My House
The Hogwarts Express
So, here I am-- sitting in my living room and waiting out the cold.* Tomorrow morning I'll have to fight my way through the Dementors and the frozen windows and make my way to work. When I do, I'm really hoping that my Patronus doesn't take the shape of a Taun-Taun, because it that thing wouldn't last too long in these conditions. At any rate, it probably wouldn't make it out of our driveway, and I don't want to hear my thermometer screaming "I told you so!" **
* Ok, fine. I'm drinking.
** I'll see you in Hell, Thermometer!
It's New Years Day, which means you all better get straight to work on making some New Years Resolutions. If you haven't even started working on your resolutions yet---GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. If you don't act soon, all the good gym memberships will be gone.
I find it's best to avoid procrastination, which is why I always write my New Year's Resolutions on New Years Eve while I'm drinking. Nothing gets my creative juices flowing like guzzling cheap corbel out of plastic champagne flutes. The only potential drawback to this strategy is that my resolutions are occasionally a bit lofty and un-achievable. For instance, here are a few of the new years resolutions I came up with last night:
1. Meet Michael Pollan
2. Ride on a Unicorn
3. Keep the Baby Alive
Now, I know what you're thinking: numbers 1 and 2 might be a bit grandiose. I KNOW RIGHT. It's always best to revisit my resolutions in the morning with a sober and critical eye, which allows me to ask myself the tough questions. "Katie, is this really realistic? Would you really be able to RIDE a unicorn? Of course not. It's probably never even worn a bridle before." That's why this morning I changed resolution number 2 to say.
2. Ride Pet a Unicorn
Much better. Now, you may also be wondering about resolution number 3: Keep the Baby Alive. I find it's best to adopt at least one resolution that I was planning to do anyways, just to give me a sense of accomplishment at the end of the year. That's why in years past my list has contained resolutions such as: wash the dog, and buy cilantro.
Last year, Sean and I decided to take the pressure off of 2013 by making only one resolution: keep the baby alive. Whatever else went wrong in our lives, we figured as long as that baby was alive we were doing a bang-up job. We found this approach to be wondrously successful. When our plumbing backed up and we found our basement flooded with sewage (aka: Lake Shiticaca), we just smiled and said, oh well-- at least the baby is alive! When it took us four months to refinish our deck, we said-- "Great job team! That baby is alive!" And when our list of needed home repairs got too long to fit on a single page, we even wrote "KEEP THE BABY ALIVE" on that list list to remind us that the most important thing was getting done.
Last night, Sean and I sat with our champagne flutes watching our baby-- who was happy, healthy, and (woot woot!) ALIVE---playing in the living room with the other children. We felt a warm sense of New Year's accomplishment spreading through us, (which feels like regular accomplishment, only bubblier.) As we watched her, Millie looked up at us, gave us a dazzling smile, then crammed a tiny metal car in her mouth.
Our baby can't exactly talk yet, but I know she's making some resolutions for next year too. They probably involve riding the dog and shoving nickels into the DVD player. I hope I'm able to instill some of my sense and reasoning into her goals (Don't be ridiculous Millie, what kind of a bridle do you have for that dog?!") But I know in 2014 no matter what her resolutions are, I'll be there-- focused on mine. Millie-- your mommy may not get to meet Michael Pollan, but you bet your ass I'm going to keep that baby alive in the coming year.* **
*Mommy's only joking. Of course I will meet Michael Pollan.
** Take that nickel out of the DVD player young lady!
