27 July 2009

2 Strikes

against you, USPS!

A month ago, I decided to mail My Love a cutesy card. Just cuz I'm sweet like that.

I dropped it in the mail and went on my way.

About a week later, during a slow afternoon at work, I wrote My Love a letter. As I went to drop it in the mail, my cutesy card was in my inbox.

Huh?

So I went into the Post Office the next day and talked to the lady. Turns out, my address and postage were correct, but the machine had read my zipcode and sent it back to me. So she took both the card and letter and sent them out again.

A week later, I have the cutesy card in my inbox again but no letter.

Double huh?

So, I have patiently waited in a ridiculous line a second time to re-mail the cutesy card.

USPS, this one is on you. Don't strike out.

17 July 2009

I Will NOT Have the Football

I'm stating this for the record right now, before tweedledee and tweedledum get any evil ideas: KtMac does not have the football!


Somewhere way back in time, when my bros were not quite the developed jocks they are today, back when I was the tall one, and they didn't each easily outweigh me by a good 50 pounds, one or both of them (who can really remember at this point?) decided it would be the funniest thing in the world to announce, "Kt's got the football!" and then tackle me. For many painful downs.


By the time they got taller than me, I was, shall we say, less than amused by the thought of ending up on the bottom of the dogpile. But, when they outweigh me and actually use their muscles, I have two options:
1) Sit r.i.g.h.t.n.e.x.t.t.o.m.o.m. so close, I'm practically in her lap and hope she'll rescue me,
and when that fails, and I'm on the bottom again,
2) Ruthlessly pull leg hairs.


Since I'd like to be bruise-free, I'm stating, again, for the record, when the family shows up this weekend for PMac's lax tournament, KtMac does NOT have the football!



Mac kids clean up good.
Seriously peeps, this is going on record as one of the longest work days ever (falling only behind any work day that ends with me traveling somewhere) as I stare at the clock and anxiously await their arrival. Hope y'all have a great weekend too! (And here's hoping that come Monday morning, I'm blissfully bruise-free...)

14 July 2009

Finish Line

Mb tagged me the other day with this awesome award:


The rules for this award are fairly straight-forward:

1. Post a funny or sweet keepsake that tells something about you.
2. Pass the award on to 10 other bloggers that you think are keepers.
The problem is, I don't read 10 other blogs (yet), and the few readers I do have, don't all have blogs (yet). So, in lieu of passing this award onto 10 other bloggers, I'm challenging you, dear readers, to post a comment and tell me about a funny or sweet keepsake of yours. Because, dear readers, you are ALL keepers to me. So do it.

While I read Mb's story about the best valentine she ever got, I started pondering what treasured keepsake I might blog about. As soon as I walked into my apartment at the end of the day, I knew.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This little guy has made every single move I've made over the years with me. He's got a lot of love and probably more than a little crusted on dirt, but he still has a place of honor on my shelf.

Just in case you can't quite make out the fine, but important, print at the bottom, here's a close-up:
"Blessed Are They That Overcome."
My great Aunt Emma gave me when I was very young. For a long time, I liked him simply because Aunt Emma gave him to me. Plus, the puppy is cute. But it took many years before I understood the meaning behind this little boy with crutches crossing the finish line. And now, every time I cross a finish line, I think of both this little guy and my great Aunt Emma and smile at all the silent encouragement they have given me over the years.

Creative Compliments: Take Three

"Should've been a cowboy
Should've learned to rope and ride
Wearin' my six shooter
Ridin' my pony
On a cattle drive"

One of the holdovers from living in Colorado is my complete love of cowboys. So naturally, I couldn't resist a grin when I saw a cute cowboy on the train when I left work yesterday. Cowboy hats really stick out in this blue, black, grey suit town.

What I loved more than the cowboy hat was the cowboy manners. He stood back, saying "ma'am" as he let all disembarking females off the train before he got off. And, as he walked past me, he grinned, winked, and tipped that adorable hat in my direction.

So, it wasn't a spoken compliment, but it sure made my day just the same.

09 July 2009

Signs of Summer: Fourth of July - For Reals

Nothing screams summer quite like the all-American Fourth of July holiday. And nothing screams Fourth of July quite like the weekend I had with Mb and Sesky Lesky in the Dirty Jerze.


Not buying it? Allow me to make the following point(s):


1) Beachside picnic consisting of ubiquitous colorful beach umbrellas everywhere, sorching hot sand - seriously, burnt feet burn - and, most importantly, wayyyyyy too much food - fabulous sandwiches, cherries, grapes, watermelon, peaches, cookies, peanut m&ms, and a gallon of ice tea.

2) Boogie boarding! 'nuff said. With the skyline of Manhattan looming in the squinty-eyed distance.



Yes, I shamelessly swiped this pic of me and Sesky Lesky from Mb.


3) Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and an escape dog that should have been named Houdini. All of which segued into heart to heart in-depth conversations about meaningful things such as bad life decisions regarding hair color, similar naughty words in multiple languages, whether Lesky is now Amish, and, most importantly, "Book-Face."


4) Stimulating the economy by taking serious advantage of the Fourth of July sales and Jersey being sales tax free. A new outfit consisting of a Kate Hill dress and blazer and Anne Klein pumps for a whopping 23% of the original full price, with no sales tax? Oh hells yes.


5) Poolside lounging, trampoline jumping, and Polish BBQ food eating. The first resulted in some serious overeating. Not going to lie.


6) A sparkly patriotic Uncle Sam hat and red, white, and blue mardi gras beads. Don't hate. We know you wish you were as cool as we are, even when we show off our fabulous patriotism.



Zsa zsa made this bbq with her festive outfit.

7) Eyeing and vetoing suspicious carny rides. Well, one of the three of us was wise enough to opt for the paparazzi role. Eyeing and vetoing the ridiculous lines for classic carny foods such as funnel cakes and cotton candy. Even if I r-e-e-e-a-a-a-l-l-l-l-y-y-y wanted some funnel cake deliciousness.


All else fails, I could become a papparazzo.



8) Awesome Fireworks. On the Fourth of July. While listening to a band play Americana classics such as "Born in the USA" and "Proud to be an American." The latter of which prompted several hours of off-key, "I-won't-admit-I-don't-know-the-rest-of-the-words" repeat singing.

Before you get your hopes up that I'm that talented as a photographer, click here.

9) Late night bonfires and roasting Polish kielbasa. The perfect follow-up to fab fireworks is bonfires, vanilla-strawberry cake, and roasting kielbasa over open flames. Too much junk food kept me from personally roasting any kielbasa.

10) Lazily recovering from the festivities on the swing on the sunny deck. But being lazy didn't keep me from warily watching out for any stray bears that may have stumbled into the backyard. 10 miles outside of the Big Apple and we have to watch out for bears in the backyard?! Seriously, too country for this girl.

Fabulous weekend with fabulous company. Totally worthy of a repeat and/or scheming new adventures. As a side note, I seem to be coming up with all-time top-ten lists a lot lately. Think a career as a late-night talk show host is in the cards for me?

07 July 2009

Butterfly Dreams

When I was in high school, I had a giant paper butterfly floating in the corner of my bedroom. I loved her.

Somewhere in college, I decided I had outgrown her and took her down. I miss her.

While My Love still lived in Chicago, we spent an afternoon on the beach flying kites. Being my girly-girl self, I insisted on a butterfly kite. I loved it. My Love, on the other hand, had quite a bit of trouble keeping my kite in the air. After one particularly spectacular round of verbal abuse following more kite troubles, I scolded, "Hey! That's Miss Butterfly to you!"

See? Miss Butterfly in all her flying glory.

Sometime after that trip, My Love started calling me butterfly (among many other terms of endearment and muttered under breath curses). It stuck. I love it

I'm not ashamed to admit that this would look rockin' with my black, silver, and white decor.

Creative Compliments: Take Two

A newer arrival in my client's office stopped me in the hall today:

"I just love seeing that perma-smile. It's fantastic. You should market it."

Signs of Summer: Fourth of July

Peeps, I've been meaning to do a write-up of the fab Fourth weekend spent in the Dirty Jerze. However, I've been a wee, teeny, tiny bit busy (as it always seems lately) this week. So, for all the adventures and mischief I found myself in over the Fourth of July, check out Mb's great write-up.

Thanks Mb!