Around Town

Speed Walking Glory

June 10, 2008 by Kathryn

Dan supervised the kiddie festivities with mildly-annoyed resignation while I walked a 5K in the mud behind some of my running girlfriends. My joints are fairly bad and I once had a physical therapist tell me not to become a runner so I use that as an excuse to walk races with dignity. And I was chock full of dignity on Saturday, speed-walking along the gravel trail past the cows with my stretch pants rolled up to mid-calf to keep them out of the mud.

My original goal was to complete the 3 miles in less than an hour. By the time I finished my only goal was to not let the old lady with the cane cross the finish line before I did. She kept passing me as we walked along the trail and at first it stressed me out. Eventually I just had to face the fact that I was an amazing speed walking athlete and that if an old lady with a cane could pass me like that, then she was the freaking awesomest old lady with a cane who ever lived and thusly a worthy opponent. She was my nemesis and I could not let her win.

So towards the end of the race I ran a bit until I was a safe distance ahead of her and then crossed the finish line with a time of 1 hour and 30 seconds. I was glad to beat my arch rival but a little frustrated that I couldn’t walk 3 miles in under an hour. And then I saw a friendly face at the sidelines so I walked over to chat. After a few minutes went by, someone mentioned that although I had crossed the finish line, my place in the race wouldn’t be recorded until I walked another hundred yards and turned in my number. So yeah. Several people had passed me at that point, including the OLWAC, who was probably laughing to herself knowing that our epic struggle had ended and she had gotten her revenge.

But at least I got a free t-shirt… and a free banana… and some free water… all included in the $25 entrance fee. And I found out later that the clock at the finish line had been set to time a race that had started 15 minutes earlier so I’d actually walked the run in about 45 minutes, smashing my original goal to tiny shards of glory.

Land of Eternal Winter

June 9, 2008 by Kathryn

The sky is blue outside my window but I have trouble believing it. It’s been so gray and dark all day, all week, all YEAR. We have little bursts of sun and then back to weeks and weeks of oppressive grey like the sky is pressing down closer and closer, tighter and tighter until it chokes the very life and laughter out of every person, plant and rock in my little world.

Can I just tell you that today was not a good day for my mentals? They are not happy. I’m working up to being drug-free and proud in anticipation of a possible attempt at a third child and the strange fluctuations in my “special vitamins” we’re using to get there are leaving me in a bit of a rough way, complicated by the ratchin’-fratchin’ gloom of abysmal death and the fact that I’m not getting a ton of sleep.

Magoo has decided that sleeping through the night is for babies. Big boys prefer to get up and watch movies with their parents from hiding places in the hall, pass out on the floor or on the stairs. They also like to climb in bed with their parents at 2am, claiming to be afraid of T-Rex’s even though T-Rex’s are their best friends, and spend the rest of the night trying to make their elbow fit in their mommy’s nostril. Big boys are the super best.

This weekend our city had its summer festival, despite the cold and damp. Laylee begged us to let her ride her bike in the kiddy parade, claiming imperviousness to cold, bravery and fortitude beyond her years. After 45 minutes of waiting in the bone-chilling cold and rain for the parade to start with parents who had the nerve to put all the gloves and ski pants away because they mistakenly thought it was June, her fortitude waned, providing us with one of the best pictures ever taken by the camera of man.

Magoo, who insisted that his dad dress him in the non-waterproof jacket that a neighbor’s baby had left over at our house, was unfazed by the weather and left all who passed him humming “Fat Man in a Little Coat” by Chris Farley.

And then we went to a parade in the rain, full of dogs and tractors and large raccoon credit union mascots with matted fur who Laylee surmised must have escaped from Disneyland “because that’s where they have most of the people that look like that.”

Tune in tomorrow to find out about how I almost SLAUGHTERED an old lady with a cane in the 5K-race-through-the-mud portion of the festivities.

No Vehicular Urination in This Family

April 22, 2008 by Kathryn

I was driving around campus when I went to visit BYU earlier this month. Julie and I were meeting up for lunch and I arrived at the visitor parking lot with plenty of 2 minutes to spare. The lot was full but the attendant said I was welcome to drive around and double check. It really was full but in the spirit of great lurkers I’ve met in the past, I found a woman getting ready to leave, followed her to her car, put on my blinker and waited for her.

Another driver in a car smaller than my tank of familyhood headed down the aisle towards me, stopped on the other side of the exiting vehicle and put her blinker on as well. It was a showdown. It was a game of parking chicken. And she won. As soon as the car had backed fully out, she jetted in front of me and took the spot. I could do nothing but honk my horn, huff puff and throw an insane sort of adult hissy fit with my children looking on.

When I was certain there were no other spots available, I headed across campus to the additional parking by the stadium, about half a mile from where Julie and I were to meet. I dialed her cell phone. Breathing quickly through clenched teeth I growled that I would be late for lunch due to an extremely rude single woman who had no idea what it was like to tote two tired children all over the state through the snow and it might take me even longer than normal because I would have to take a side trip to the parking lot to key her car.

In the rearview mirror I caught sight of Laylee’s face, studying me closely like a mini-dose of Calm-the-Heck-Down-For-the-Sake-of-the-Children. I then started into a whole Pollyanna routine about how lucky we were to get to walk through the parking lot and see all the pretty cars and past the Marriot center and through a tunnel and over a bridge and down a spirally ramp and past a water feature and across a sidewalk and through the quad… in the snow. I told them I was sure that the mean lady wasn’t lucky enough to do ANY of those things. She had tried to be mean but in the end we had won out because we had gotten to take such an exciting and scenic walk.

The kids appeared to buy it and I even felt nearly recovered from my irrational psychotic rage by the time I met Julie for the first time. She’s as lovely as her blog and I’d hate to have terrified her with my red-faced saliva-spitting anger.

So I thought it was over… until yesterday.

We were driving in the car and suddenly Laylee asked, “Remember when we were at BYU and you said you wanted to pee in that lady’s car?”

Me: What?!
Laylee: That mean lady took our parking spot and you said you wanted to go back and pee in her car.
Me [wanting to redeem myself in her eyes but obviously not thinking it through]: NO! Honey. I would never pee in somebody’s car. I said I wanted to KEY… her… car.
Laylee: What’s “key”””
Me: It’s a bad mean thing that we should never do or even joke about and it was very inappropriate of me to even say and I am so sorry.
Laylee: But what””
Me: It’s too mean and I won’t ever do it.
Laylee: Um… okay…

So we don’t believe in urinary vandalism in this family. No ma’am. If we’re gonna do property damage, we’re gonna go for the gold. Ayaiyai! I wonder when I’ll ever learn to keep my big mouth shut when around little people with long memories and “enquiring minds.”

The Big Trip Report

April 5, 2008 by Kathryn

I have so much to tell you but honestly I’d rather just ask you for a band-aid. My feet are SHREDDED from all the cute shoes I’ve been wearing around the city. It seems that everything less than 5 miles away in New York is considered “close” and people just hoof it all over the city to save on cab fare. This would have been fine if I’d stuck with the white tennis shoes but I swapped them out for heels, heels, heels and I’m paying the price for my fabulousness. Mir hooked me up with several band-aids this morning but they’re failing miserably at this point. I’m not sure what kind of adhesive they use in Georgia but it doesn’t adhese as well as I’d like.

Still, I’d rather wear a non-sticky band-aid from Mir than a proper Northern band-aid any day. She is that rad. The first time I met her 2 years ago, I was providing her with a band-aid to help with what I believe was an unfortunate shaving incident.

Speaking of shaving, when I asked the lady at the deli next to our hotel if she had a razor for sale, she said, “Like for shaving?” and pantomimed running a razor across her chin and cheek. “Yes,” I replied. “Perhaps I didn’t pluck well enough,” I mused.

My blisteringly fabulous shoes were a topic of discussion at the closing keynote session today. Earlier in the day Elisa Camhort Page (who needs to stop adding names) commented on their cuteness and like any savvy shopping woman I smiled proudly and told her, “SIX BUCKS!” These little babies were on clearance at Fred Meyer and I liked them so much that I picked up an extra pair in a random size to give away to the first lucky size 10 Cinderella I came across.

So during Elisa’s closing session interview of The Budget Fashionista, she shared my story and I got to stand up and show off my bargain to a room full of bloggers and business people. Sweet. You’ve got to love a women’s conference. And I did. I loved the conference.

I was speaking on a panel with Method and A Squared Group about their Detox Seattle program, coming soon to a city near you, and I didn’t know quite what to expect from a blogging business conference. I blog but I’m not a business, although I do work with them from time to time in my blogging endeavors.

The conference was much more intimate than BlogHer’s main event and I felt like I really got to spend time building relationships that I had started with waves in passing at other conferences. The pace was good and there was a ton of information to absorb about good blogging practices, building buzz, working with marketing firms and businesses and what kind of wipes to use for your potty-training toddler.

My panel went really well, a case study on using social media as part of a successful marketing campaign. (Click here for the live blog. I’m case study #4) Method really did everything right in Seattle, a personal, sincere, respectful pitch, a great product, something valuable in exchange for my time, and excellent relationship building and follow up. Besides all that, every person we’ve met from Method and their marketing firm have been amazing people, people you want to hang out with, people you want to stay up all night giggling with and braiding each other’s hair while dancing to Milli Vanilli cassette tapes. (If they ever ask you to engage in those activities, accept their offer without delay.)

I had fun up there because I had a positive topic to speak on, my fellow panelists were rad, and the attendees were intelligent, positive, encouraging and engaging. (If they ever ask you to speak at BlogHer Business, accept their offer without delay.)

I got a brief chance to experience the city, crazy cab drivers, touring Times Square with Gabby’s too nice relatives, visiting the Empire State building with my cousin who lives in New York and didn’t act at all annoyed to be briefly tour around with me. She even humored me by taking one of those little bike trailers back to my hotel when we had a tough time hailing a cab. For 10 dollars, a very friendly and superhumanly strong man shuttled us for 10 blocks, being careful to swerve too close to moving vehicles and laugh at our reactions. I suppose near-death is part of the fun of the experience and he expects a bigger tip for taking you to the edge of safety without dropping you off the cliff.

In an attempt to increase the frequency with which I invite strange foreigners to my hotel room, I had a nice chat with Sarah, whom I see becoming a great friend and collaborator. She is really someone worth knowing and not just because of the accent or the fact that I’m hoping she’ll show me around next time I’m in London.

The main message I’d leave with marketers is that bloggers write about experiences. If you can give them a great experience with your product or service, chances are they will write about it because it’s part of their life and they want to talk about their life. By in large they do not want to talk about your potato chips or premium shoe laces. They want to talk about their life. If you can find a creative way to make your brand a part of their life in a mutually beneficial way with an experience attached, chances of getting your message out are greater. If a blog is a representation of me, then I’m not going to write about something unless it reflects who I am and what I want to be associated with. So choose carefully who you market to and find a way to partner with them, rather than expecting complimentary advertising.

Now I have one last thing. As I was walking through the airport this afternoon, I caught my reflection in a mirror and noticed that the back of my skirt was caught in my laptop bag and my back-ish half was hanging all kinds of out. I don’t know how long I’d been like that, but I’d been walking around for at least 10 minutes with my bags before I noticed it. For the love of human dignity, if you see someone walking around like that, let them know, I BESEECH YOU!

Little Mamma in the Big City

April 3, 2008 by Kathryn

New York cab drivers should all have GPS units installed in their cars, not so much to show them where they’re going but to show the passenger where they’re going and how many circles they’re driving to get there. I also think all fares should come with a can of whiplash repellent or at the very least a disposable neck brace or collar.

And how much should you tip a cab driver? Do they get the same as a hair dresser or bank teller? And who all should get a tip? It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled anywhere tip-worthy and I’m a bit confused. You tip the guy who takes your bags and the one who hails you a cab at the front door of the hotel. You tip the crazy guy who plays the trumpet poorly on the street corner with his eyes closed so you’re left wondering if he’s blind or if he just thinks you’ll put more money in his hat if he’s not looking directly at you.

I think you tip the door-holder guy but do you tip the guy in the uniform standing next to the revolving door and smiling at you as you walk in? Do you tip his mom? I’m not sure about all of this. I think I’ll just stuff my bra full of ones and shimmy everywhere I go, letting the bills fall where they may.

Back in the day, I traveled a lot for business. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in big cities across the US but I’ve never been anywhere like New York. People seem to laugh louder here and walk harder, beating the pavement into submission with their feet. I try to walk like them but I’m not sure if I’m doing it right or just look like Laylee on the verge of a fit.

Traffic lights mean nothing to pedestrians here. To cab drivers they’re simply a justification for running people over.

I’m torn between my desire to take pictures of every brick and speck of dirt and the wish to appear like a hip city dweller despite my white sneakers and wide-eyedness. I’m beginning to think the secret to this is weaving boldly through the speeding cars with no apparent concern for health or safety. I think it will take more than 2 days in the city to cultivate this type of peer-pressure-induced kamikazality.

And the honking. There is a lot. And sirens. And crazy people. And hot dogs.

The cars outside my window sound like a river and I’m smiling because my cab driver was honked at multiple times by other cab drivers and I think this means we won.

Mamma Mia with the Snorffles

March 20, 2008 by Kathryn

On Tuesday I was heading for serious sickness but I was conflicted because I had serious tickets to see Mamma Mia! with a few of my SeattleMomBlogs peeps and I felt I MUST GO. So I did. I packed my huge mom purse full of tissues and headed out with Eve driving my car because I was unfit for the road.

She is just getting over a nasty little something as well and we were worried about cross contamination so we drove with the windows down most of the way as I sniffled, snorffled, hacked and coughed my way to girls’ night out.

Isabel, lovely as ever, did not seem even a bit bothered when we called to tell her we’d arrived at the theatre early and could she please bring us some cough lozenges when she came. And she brought them and all the people sitting around us rejoiced. I tried really really hard to time my coughing fits and nose-blowing fests for the height of the crescendos during the big show stoppers and I used hand sanitizer liberally. I feel fairly confident I did not infect any of my fellow ABBA lovers and honestly I think everyone was having too good a time to notice my… ahem… special sound effects.

To a lifelong ABBA fan, Mamma Mia! was complete and total fun. It was like a really well choreographed slumber party with several hundred excited friends. The acting and vocals were fabulous and I’ve never seen an audience that pumped up at a Broadway musical performance, laughing and clapping as each new ABBA song was woven into the story. I was amazed how well it flowed and today as I listened to my Gold album, I couldn’t get the images of the play out of my mind. I love the CD more than ever.

Just before bed tonight I took a wee break from being sick and had a full on dance party with the kids like my mom used to do with us when we were little, only back then the ABBA was on vinyl and it was a little less “old school.” If you have a chance, go see the show sometime. It’s only in Seattle through this weekend but I think it’s touring all over and there’s a film version coming out this year starring Meryl Streep, Colin Firth and Pierce Brosnan. Can’t wait!

And He Shall Have Bubbles Wherever He Goes

March 17, 2008 by Kathryn

Magoo is obsessed with bubbles. He is driven to play with them. Whenever he has a hole in his schedule, he slips out on the front porch for a little quality time with his liquid soap, glycerin and a plastic wand. Dan is not nearly as traumatized by the thought of Magoo playing with that kind of wand as he is about him wearing the pink princess pull-ups I snagged on freecycle from a seller who forgot to mention the gender of her recently potty-trained child and whom I forgot to ask.

He brings the bubbles in the van whenever we go out and leaves them in his cup holder until it’s time to get out of the car. Through the Target parking lot, down the sidewalks of the outdoor mall, standing outside of Subway. Everywhere we go he blows the bubbles while I hold onto him by the scruff of his parka.

The bubbles match his personality perfectly, round, happy, bouncy and colorful until suddenly he pops and I throw him in bed.

I am forever entertained by him.

Mamma Mia!

March 4, 2008 by Kathryn

ABBA on broadway?!! Transported to Seattle?!!

I am ridiculously excited for this chance to go out for a night on the town with my ladies and see Mamma Mia! at the Paramount.

If you live in the Seattle area and want to join us for opening night, get your tickets and let me know. We’ll meet up for desert or something.

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Saturday

March 2, 2008 by Kathryn

Today was Saturday.

We did some things.

My friend moved to Germany and left behind this gorgeous wreath and Dan let me claim it and bring it home even though he thinks it looks a bit like a ball of hair in a shower drain. To me it looks like beautiful funky nature.

I like it so much that I drove 10mph all the way home holding the wreath outside my car window to avoid cramming it into the car and breaking it. My hand may need to be amputated from freezation but at least I’ll have a pretty wall to look at while I recover from surgery.

Laylee’s been working hard to integrate “Big Miffy” into our family and it seems that Miffy is getting along just fine.

She thinks safety is the best policy and always buckles up.

Her face looks like it was MADE for the window in our Little Tikes castle.

She never complains about what I feed her.

She does all her homework without getting any marker on herself or others.

While Miffy worked scrubbing the bathrooms, I ran off to a local antique store where I found these adorable milk glass snack plates and cups and the vintage cloth napkins they’re sitting on. While I was in the store, my thoughts were never far from my antiques guru Karen. I kept thinking, “What would Karen do? What would Karen buy? Would Karen think I looked good in this vintage Smurf hat?”

At dinner tonight we were talking about manners and Dan began to demonstrate good posture. “Wow,” said Laylee, “You’re sitting really straight.”

She sat up a little taller.

“Look. I’m straight too.”

She looked at me.

“You’re pretty straight Mom, except for your breasts.”

We played outside in the sun and in the rain, sometimes simultaneously.

And then I had a culinary festival of poserhood and baked my own granola! I can finally hold my head up high in Seattle.

And then I wrote about it all on the internet.

And then I went to bed.

The Word on the Street

February 27, 2008 by Kathryn

Today I overheard a man on his cell phone, asking his friend if he had “arterial” motives. Maybe his friend was a little too concerned about his own cardiovascular health.

Laylee says her stuffed bear Eddie is starting preschool next week. I asked if he was excited and she said “I don’t think he even knows. He probably forgot. He’s really forgettable.” Laylee is not.

Magoo has started referring to himself in the 3rd person… as a T-Rex… but sometimes he forgets. Today he forgot his identity for a moment. “Mommy. Can Buddy play with… Um… um… [lowering his voice an octave]… Can the BIG T-REX play with your ball?”

After the tenth time watching and rewatching this video clip of my infant nephew, Laylee looked up at me skeptically and said, “Mom. I can’t understand a WORD he’s saying!” With her tone of voice she was clearly calling him some sort of incommunicative idiot-tard. He may be cute, but that kid is not gonna get along very well in life until he learns to speak so people can understand him.

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