Things I Love About Fall

Once upon a time, someone described to me how our bodies and minds correlate to the seasons.  In fall, we begin to slow down and take stock of our lives, thinking about our next direction.  During winter, we take cold, hard evaluation of who we are, where we are, and what we want.  Spring is a time for putting those winter plans in action, and in Summer, we blossom in our new found path.  Rinse & repeat.  It's a cycle we continue our whole lives.  

From the I first heard that theory, I've appreciated each season a little bit more.  I really try to think about how the season relates to my own life--Am I celebrating how wonderful my life is?  Do I need to look more closely at my choices?  Do I need to slow down and make some plans?    

In the spirit of fall, here are a few of my favorite things about the season, and how they encourage me to slow down, relax, and prepare for the hard decisions ahead:  

1. Waking up in the morning, knowing that it's chilly outside, but being warm and snuggled under my 3 quilts, with Lucy-dog right next to me.  I'm so grateful that I have a safe haven--my home.

2. Watching Lucy-dog hop through piles of leaves.  Her little 3-inch long legs make it impossible for her to walk, so she bunny-hops.  This is quite possibly the cutest thing ever.  I could have ended up with any pound-hound, but I am so, so, so lucky that Lucy choose me to be her mommy. My life would be much emptier without her cuddles and wiggly butt.

3. Hot coffee in the morning, warm spicy chai in the afternoon, and piping hot anise tea at night.  I will remember to be grateful for the little pleasures in life.  

4. FOOTBALL--Go Dores! Last weekend, I got to see a Vandy game with my Dad, and it was quite possible one of the best days of my life.  I don't get to spend a lot of alone time with my Dad anymore, and I relish each time we have daddy-daughter days.

5.  My favorite holidays:  Halloween, my birthday, Turkey day, and CHRISTMAS (Ok, so maybe Christmas is in the winter, but I get to decorate for it in the fall!).  My dad used to walk us all over our little town trick-or-treating, and my plastic pumpkin was always overflowing.  Mom let us eat as much candy as we could manage when we got home, i.e. a little kid's dream.  I love, love, LOVE (one more time) LOVE being with my family, and fall holidays mean my whole family is together.  I am so lucky that the women in my family taught me how to cook, and holidays are my favorite times to be crammed in the kitchen with my mom & sister, asking for help with the gravy or making pies.  I will always remember my grandmother at the stove, stirring creamed corn, and I'll never forget the way her blackberry pies tasted.  

6.  Boots!  I finally get to drag my lovely Frye's out of the back of my closet.  Nothing reminds me of my glory days in Nashville more than pulling on my Harness boots and clomping around town.  I still remember the day (my birthday, actually) that my mom & dad bought them for me. 

So there you have it--Kate's preparation for the winter, little reminders of what makes me happy at this time of the year.  Just a little reflection on an underrated season.  I encourage you to use the falling leaves as a reminder to evaluate & remember the simple things that make you smile.  

Self-Soothing

Well, I knew it was coming:  my first breakdown of the semester.  A little early this semester, but, all things considered, I think I'm entitled to a little premature freak-out.  

On Sunday, everything reached a culmination point.  My seminar paper is due in a week and I haven't started.  I have no idea what is going on in my tax law class, and 0% motivation to study the Federal income tax code.  Things with S. are up-down-up-down-fake up-bottomless pit down, etc.  My friends all seem to have fallen off the face of the earth, as we're all under equal pressure this semester.  My hair looks like a version of Jenny Garth's stringy, rooty, mess circa 90210 (it's really hard to feel pretty with air-band hair).  In short, I was down about EVERYTHING. 

My mom has a favorite thing to say to me when I'm wallowing:  "Either live with it or do something about it."  So today, I engaged in a little self-therapy.  I made a list of everything that was contributing to my near-panic attack, and then made a second list of what I could do about those things.  I came to 2 conclusions:  they were all either things that I absolutely can't control--e.g. S's behavior--or things that I can take care of with a little hard work and preparation--work on paper NOW instead of writing this blog post.  I realize that sounds dangerously close to the AA serenity prayer (I know aaaalllll about this little ditty from several clients) but there is something incredibly calming about letting go of things that I can't change...and taking on the ones I can.  I know I can (and must) rock this paper, I will study my (Reuben-esque) rear off over the holiday, and I will get through this last year of law school.  I will.  

Those two little realizations have done a lot for my mental health.  Not to mention the two giant coolers of groceries and goodies my parents sent home with me.  Even thought I'm almost 26, still in school and brokedy-broke-broke, my parents still don't want me to starve.  In fact, they certainly don't want me to lose those last 5 Chilean pastry pounds, as evidenced by the amount of carbs I put up in my cabinet and fridge.   Mmm rice and pasta and homemade apple butter and peach rings!!!

And my #1 pick me up:  My mom bought me this.  I don't care if it's gross, I've wanted one ever since I saw the informercial at 3:30 a.m. a year ago during an intense bout of insomnia.  God bless TV marketing!  

So here's to the light at the end of the tunnel, better days, and letting go.  I'm so lucky to have a family who picks me up when I'm down and makes sure I have a full pantry.  And by this weekend, with a little luck and lots of work, I'll have a rough draft.  I might even take control of my hair & make an appointment.  

Middle of the Night Freak Outs

I've had raging insomnia for a handful of years now.  It started during my senior year in college and steadily escalated to the point that I actually got an Rx for chemical sleep assistance.  Keep in mind, I abhor taking little magic pills to cure what ails me.  The last time I actually sang myself a chemical lullaby was on the 10 hour flight to Santiago.  

My usual M.O. for falling asleep involves me shifting into various positions, convinced that I will fall asleep as soon as I find that perfect "spot."  This annoys my dog to no end, to the point that she frequently jumps of my bed and sleepily stumbles to the couch.  I swear she mutters, "screw that crazy lady, messin' with my beauty sleep" under her breath.  

Lately, I have been tossing and turning more than usual, and even after I finally fall asleep, I wake up in cold sweats, freaked out of my mind about some to-do or the other.  Last night was an extreme example.  Lucy-dog had long since packed up for the couch by the time I feel asleep, sometime after 2:30 a.m.  I proceeded to wake up almost every hour with a new paranoia.  

At 3:30, I couldn't remember my grandmother's voice.  I willed myself to stop crying and concentrate.  I eventually could remember the way she said, "Well I'll be!" and that calmed me enough to doze off again.  

At 4:30, I realized my seminar paper is due in 2 weeks.  I almost hopped out of bed to start reading journal articles, but I somehow fell asleep before I actually put a foot on the floor.  

At 5:30, why hadn't S. called me last night?  Or had he?  I couldn't remember?  I talked myself out of calling him in the wee hours of the morning, but made a mental note to check my phone in the morning to see if he had called (he had, twice). 

At 7:00, Lucy had to potty.  As in, HAD TO GO RIGHT NOW.  I stumbled outside in THE purple sweatpants, a black t-shirt with no bra, and a pair of grandma's old fuzzy socks...only to find that it was pouring down rain.  Being a bad mother, I let go of Lucy's leash and let her wander into the ivy-covered front yard to figure it out on her own.  My logic was that she would come back because she's terrified of rain.  Check one for Kate!  Back in my bed, I replayed that irresponsible action over and over and freaked out over my fear of Lucy running away.  Mental note to never do that again.  

At 8:15, my morning wake-up call from S.  He sounds too perky.  I went back to sleep

At 8:45, did S. call?  Shit, I have to write a paper today.  I have to pack for mom and dad's.  Have I called my dad lately?  Did my sister really say he's voting for Obama?  Too much.  Back to sleep.  

9:45.  SHIT.  Overslept almost 2 hours.  Laid awake thinking for a few minutes and finally remembered grandma's voice.  Her laugh.  

Welcome to a night in the life of K.  Fun, yes?  I'm laughing too.  But seriously, these midnight freak-outs are an indication of ONE.VERY.BIG.THING:  Finals are coming.  Only 4 weeks.  Paper due in 2.  

The night sweats have commenced.  I won't sleep well for the next month.  

It's crunch time.  

Learning to live with it.

During a discussion over ex-boyfriends, my 19 year-old friend A. told me something that is still haunting me.  A. and her long-time high school boyfriend broke up over a year ago, but she still affectionately mentions her ex every now & again.  She told me that she was certain they would never be together again (in fact, she is dating a great new guy).  But she also made this profound statement:  "The hardest part is realizing that I'm always going to be in love with him, and I have to live with that." 

How amazingly accurate. 

I don't really want to dig into the deeper details of my personal life to the entire web community, but it's sufficient to say that I've got to learn to live with my feelings for S.  Even if we can't be together, a piece of me will always fiercely love him.  I know it can't go back to the way it was, but damn!  how I wish it could.  I wish we could have our weekly late Sunday morning breakfasts, where we take our greasy heads out to eat eat greasy-spoon food.  I wish we could be that couple holding hands (PDA!  My only exception) as we browse boutique-y shops & share coffee.  I want to go back to our routine of calling each other morning, noon, and night.  I want him to hold me.  I want to hold him.  I want it back the way it was.

But we can't.  Instead, I've got to live with it.

Song Lyric Survey (Stolen from Lauren!)

Normal questions, harder answers.  Only answer in song lyrics.

Current relationship status:  "I've never been so alone, And I've never been so alive." (Third Eye Blind, Motorcycle Driveby)

Your first love:  "Had to find some higher ground, had some fear to get around.  You can't say what you don't know, later on won't work no more."  (Tom Petty, Square One) 

Do you believe in love at first sight? "I don't know if I can do that."  (Luke Bryan, I Don't Know If I Can Do That)

Your most recent ex:  "I keep letting you back in, how can I explain myself.  As painful as this thing has been, I just can be with no one else.  See I know what we've got to do, you let go, and I'll let go too."  (Ex Factor, Lauryn Hill)

Your best friend:  "And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call, you meant more to me than anyone I've ever loved at all.  But you taught me how to trust myself, and so I say to you, this is what I have to do."  (Missy Higgins, Where I Stood)

Sex:  "You keep me in a daydream, keep me going strong."  (Superstitious, Stevie Wonder) 

Marriage:  "I don't care for your fairytales.  You're so worried 'bout the maiden though you know she's only waiting on the next best thing."  (Fairytale, Sara Barellies)

Life:  "If you think time will change your ways, don't wait too long."  (Madeleine Peyroux, Don't Wait Too Long)

Death:  "When someone said count your blessings now, I guess I just didn't know how...I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again...and I won't forget you."  (Pink, Who Knew)

Your regrets:  "Now I've made some mistakes, I've lost some friends a long the way.  But I don't carry it because it's made me a better chick...I may not be what I'm supposed to, but I can tell you right now I ain't what I used to be."  (Mary J. Blige, Reflections)

High School:  "She used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows, sign her letters with X's and O's."  (She's An American Girl, Trisha Yearwood) 

Your worst enemy:  "There are people in your life who have come and gone, they let you down and they hurt your pride.  You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on.  You keep carrying that anger, it will eat you up inside."  (Don Henley, Heart of the Matter)

Authority:  "I opened my mouth and I heard myself, it can get pretty lonely when you show yourself, guess I could have made it easier on myself but I, I could never follow."  (Dixie Chicks, Long Way Around)

Politics:  Listen to all of Ray Lemontagne's "How Come."  But in particular:  "And justice can be a thief, and freedom can be an empty cup from which everybody wanna drink." 

Your religious stand/views:  "I hope that everybody can find a little flame.  Me, I say my prayers and then light myself on fire, walk out on a wire once again...." (Counting Crows, Goodnight Elizabeth)

Monday:  "Just another manic Monday..."  (The Bangles, Manic Monday.  Cliche and unoriginal, but soooo true.  Plus, this one was one of my favorite songs as a child and I would put this tape on repeat!)

Tuesday:  "The first sight of morning is grey and alarming, It's so disappointing the day has come so soon."  (Brandi Carlile, Late Morning Lullaby).  I HATE Tuesdays.

Wednesday:  "I'm halfway there...living on a prayer" (yup, that's some old school Bon Jovi for you!)  Did I mention I'm not a fan of the mid-week?  This is getting painfully unoriginal...

Thursday: "But what you've done here is put yourself between a bullet and a target, and it won't be long before you're pulling yourself away..."  (Bullet and A Target, Citizen Cope)

Friday:  "Heads California, Tails Carolinas, somewhere greener, somewhere warmer."  (Heads California, JoDee Messina)  Damn, but Fridays just make me want to hop in Gretta-Jetta and head...anywhere.  

Saturday:  OBVIOUSLY--"Worked hard all week, got a little jingle on a Tennessee Saturday night."  (Alabama, Dixieland Delight)  

Sunday:  "Although though now, most of my days are spent alone."  (Amos Lee, Arms of a Woman).  Loneliest day of the week.

Coffee:  "If the way you drank your coffee was the way you looked at me, I could take both my hands of the TV."  (Lisa Loeb, Lisa Listen)

Tea:  "And I'm weeping for honey and milk..." (Warm Whispers, Missy Higgins)

Alcohol:  "Bottle of red, bottle of white, ever kind of mood you're in tonight."  (Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, Billy Joel)

Cigarettes:  "I said no, no, no."  (Rehab, Amy Winehouse)

Lunch meat:  Hmm....don't eat it. 

Food:  "Love love love love love, Looove love love!!!"  (Bottle It Up, Sarah Barellies).

Color:  "When you have awoken, from all the dreams broken, come and dance with me, dance with, into the colors..."  (Ben Harper, Into the Colors)

Anything you'd like to add:  "She is young and she still has her confidence, and it's not too  late to tie up those loose ends." (Loose Ends, Rosie Thomas) 

When Did Women Stop Having Waists?

A burning question has been etched in my mind lately:

When did clothing companies stop designing for REAL women's bodies???

I know, I'm deep like that.  But let me just start this little rant with the fact that I have spent almost $150 in the past 2 months having my clothes tailored.  That's $150 I no longer get to spend on groceries.  I sure hope Thanksgiving produces lots and lot of leftovers...

I am a very averaged sized girl--5'3 and a size 4.  My body is proportional, i.e. my bottom half matches my top half just fine.  I even got all techie and posted a picture so you can see for yourself.  However, I can't find one damn thing that fits!  I have been blessed/cursed with a "woman's shape," i.e. I have breasts and hips and a small waist LIKE A NORMAL WOMAN.  Apparently, this makes me ineligible for 90% of the clothing on today's racks.  

I recently bought the cutest little suit--black tweed with tiny hints of bright colors, fitted skirt with big buttons, and the most darling little swing jacket with 3/4 sleeves.  It screams "wear me to interviews at non-profits!!!"  I love it.  However, it was a large part of that $150 tailoring bill.  Some women would have just passed on the little suit, claiming it didn't fit (C. is like this--if it doesn't fit off the rack she won't buy it.  C. is also shaped like those girls on ANTM).  What bothers me is that the suit DID fit, minus the fact that the waist was as wide as the hemline.  I hope you're thinking, "WTF?" because I certainly did.  In fact, EVERY SINGLE SUIT I tried on had the same problem.  And it wasn't that I was looking at cheap suits.  We're talking lawyer-sized budget (with a little help from Mom) priced ensembles for my first year of big-girl work.  For the past few years, almost every pair of pants, skirts, or especially dresses I've tried on have been the same size from bust to hips--straight.  Now how many women are actually shaped like a deck of cards?!  I would love to know how much money I've spent in the past year alone getting pants/skirts/dresses nipped in at the waist (we won't even go into hemming...).

However, any time I try on a vintage dress or skirt, it almost always fits perfectly.  It's nipped at the waist but allows room for my bosom and hips.  Vintage dresses are generally well-proportioned for my shape.  I've always said that I was born 50 years too late, and maybe this is the proof in the pudding.  Have women's bodies changed shape over the decades?  Or are designers just getting lazy and selling the same stuff they slap on their models?  Why can't I find ONE DRESS that is fitted at the waist???

I can only draw 2 conclusions from my little rant:

1. I'm so glad my mom just bought a nice sewing machine so she can start doing the dirty work!

2. Clothing companies only want to design for the "tall-skinnies."  My shape is "out" and boy-like bodies are in.  For women. 

Not trying to enact systemic change in the fashion industry, just try to blow off some steam and find some good work attire.  I have always been proud of my curves, and I've never had complaints from the fellas.  I wish designers would take a survey of what real women are shaped like and design for the rest of us.  

Tagged by H.

Yup, it's a meme.  Whoo hoo!  No, seriously, thanks to H. for allowing me to share 7 random things you don't know about me:

1. I had a serious problem with compound words as a child.  My favorite color was "pinkhot" and my dog lived in a "housedog."  I was a hot mess.  My mom notified the learning disability teacher to prepare a seat for me in his class.  I have no idea how I outgrew this.

2. I frequently daydream about throwing my law degree out a window and opening a small bakery/pie/coffee shop.  Nothing too big, but just my own little enterprise.  I will never actually do this because I have a huge fear that it will flop & I will be in debt and out of work. 

3. My dog truly is my alter ego.  We have the same weird habits, we are stubborn, we love to be outside but hate humidity or temperatures over 90 degrees, we like the warm spot left on the bed after someone gets up (for her, it's when I get up; for me, I used to do this with S.).  Sometimes I am freaked out by how similar we are.  Could my "soul mate" (ick, boo) be a dog???  (Further evidence that I will never again have a date.) 

4. Among the random chores I LOATHE are:  filling the Brita pitcher, taking out the recyclables, organizing my Sherman-tank sized jewelry box, and yes, replacing the roll of toilet paper.  I will go to great & ridiculous lengths to avoid these tasks.   

5. Although I have given almost $80K to the University of Louisville, I feel zero allegiance to the school.  On the other hand, I will be so terribly disappointed if my hypothetical children don't want to go to Vanderbilt. 

6. I spent the past 25 years worrying that I wasn't good enough & everyone else was more worthy than me.  This is the first time in my life I have been comfortable with my body, hair, face, opinions, intellect, and who I am as a person...and I am single, unemployed, and in massive debt.  Hmm...

7. Once I love someone, I will love them forever.  Even people I have sworn I will never speak to again.

So there you go.  It's like my own version of Post Secret!  I am tagging Bagel, Lauren, Victoria, Jessica, and what the hell, Lucie, you can do this twice!  ;)

Dear Employer With Dental & Eye Insurance, Please Hire Me.

DISCLAIMER to potential employers: We all need a laugh, right? Please hire me despite this post. Please. PLEASE.

It's no secret that these are scary times to be looking for a job. Especially scary when you want to enter the law-meets-public-service field and a certain "Maverick" says that it's time to suspend and/or cut the public service sector. The job hunt is freaking me out. Therefore, in my best effort to sell myself, I've created the PERFECT cover letter:

Dear Non-firm, Kumbayah-loving, low-paying Public Service Employer,


If you do not provide eye or dental insurance, go ahead and stop reading. I'm going to need to get this cavity filled eventually, and I certainly can't fix it on the measly salary you listed on your website. And my special contact lenses that aren't special enough to fall under my current insurance plan are cutting into my budget for apartment decorating and shoes. So if you can't give me some good benefits, throw this one in the can now. But please take note of my tasteful and expensive resume paper first--I spent at least $40 and 40 minutes picking it out.

My name is painfully common, but let me show you how uncommon and non-WASPy I am. I mean, I am a middle-class white girl from the Midwest with ancestors from Western Europe and was raised in a protestant church, but I'm different, I swear! I took a few "cultural perspectives" classes in college so I know about diversity. Also, I can speak Spanish, so that means I can totally relate to the underprivileged, underpaid Latino immigrants who came to our country to find a better life but really just find discrimination and heartbreak and lower-than-minimum-wage jobs. But I'm blonde, so I also relate to their sense of discrimination. Those blonde jokes are rough!

My resume lists lots of skills and experiences which sound really, really good on paper but which didn't teach me all that much. My former job? Hogwash. I spent most of my time avoiding my control-freak boss and disciplining college students against my will. And that coveted research position? I mostly just check legal citations while watching episodes of "Forensic Files" or Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations." Granted, I've had some great summer legal positions, so please ask me a lot about those experiences so I can go off about our foster care system or how much better produce is in Chile.

Wait, what? You want to know about my grades? I'm not prepared to talk about my grades! Ok, here's the thing--first year was really, really rough. I just couldn't handle all the arrogance and self-importance and bitchiness...and yes, I'm talking about the professors. How am I supposed to care about res judica when the Prof is distracting me with her Soul Glo hair and nasty stares? Not to mention that I took my spring semester finals with a 48-hour migraine and walking pneumonia. But never fear, I've now figured out the system! I borrow prior students' outlines & archived past exams from the law school and memorize them in time for the exam. Now I'm doing just fine! See how much I've learned?

I have also spent considerable time researching the proper code of conduct for attorneys. I can consume mulitple glasses of wine during a business lunch and still assume an air of professionalism. I also have considerable practice drinking entire bottles of wine at home while I "work." Do not worry, I never ever drive after drinking, and I don't make a habit of participating in illegal activity (unless it involves jaywalking or parking tickets). But I am well-versed in judicial schmoozing and sucking up to those in positions of authority in general. I have perfected my "yes-ma'am-whatever-you-say" smile as I secretly scream profanities in my head. Additionally, I look good in a suit and can walk easily in 4-inch heels.

Above all, I am an excellent baker and frequently make cookies and pastries for my co-workers and office events. Even if I have no idea what I should be doing at my desk, I will guarntee that you will never go hungry!

If the above information didn't make you want to hire me, let me try one last tactic: PLEASE PLEASE give me a job because my student loan debt is astronomical. PLEASE.

I promise to be the best attorney you've ever had and only check my personal e-mail 10x a day at work. And no more Facebook (unless it's an emergency, of course).

Looove,
Katie, your soon-to-be-new-hire, as long as you have dental.

Lazy Sunday

After a law school week from you-know-where, I decided to today today off.  My own version of Lazy Sunday.  I have done absolutely no law school related work today. 

FYI, typing that sentence was amazingly gratifying.  

Here's what I have done today:

1. Read the papers (L'ville Courier Journal and Washington Post), attempted the crossword

2. Had catch-up phone conversations with S. and my good friend H. 

3. Went to the grocery and planned my meals for the week. 

4. Made broth for vegetable soup

5. Made applesauce

6. Made challah--a long and tedious process but the result is sooo worth it! 

7. Made the infamous jam cookies

8. Completed my laundry, folded clothes, dusted/vacuumed my apartment

9. Planned my outfits for the week, including my interview suit for Wednesday 

10. Spent some extra cuddle time with Lulu.

Just my own little version of a lazy Sunday.  :)  

Touch

A funny thing happen at my internship this week....A co-worker hugged me.  

As most of my friends know, I'm not a touchy-feely type.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my friends and family.  Probably more than they realize.  Maybe even to stalker-esque capacity.  I love the wonderful people I am lucky enough to have in my life.  I'm just not so crazy about touching them.  

I should re-state that.  I don't touch the people in my life.  It's not that I am opposed to touching/hugging my friends and family, I just don't do it on a regular basis. 

Perhaps that is an odd thing, but not if you come from my clan.  Actually, I am the most touchy person in my family.  Other than hugging my parents when we say goodbye, which are usually initiated by me, I can't really think of an instance in which my family hugs.  It's just not our thing.  That is absolutely no reflection  of how we feel about each other--we are incredibly close.  We're just rather reserved folks, I suppose.  True WASPs.

The first time I met my friend C's mom, she enveloped me in one of the biggest hugs I've ever received.  I have to admit, I was freaked out.  Those are the types of hugs I reserve for friends I haven't seen in years or my Lucy-dog (yes, I hug my dog more than my family.  So what? She loves it).  I received a similar hug from a co-worker, whom I've only known for a month, after I delivered a bag of baked goodies to her office.  I was completely taken aback.  

However, the reason I was throw off was not because the hug wasn't welcome.  It was because it was so very welcome.  That hug made me realize how infrequently I touch or am touched by other people.  Ignoring the recent funeral (which ranks right up there with weddings for hug-giving), I cannot even remember the last time I hugged someone (although I'm sure C. hugged me last time I saw her!).  

As a single girl, maybe this is just a fact of life:  no man, no hugging.  Touch is a metaphor for intimacy--as Americans, we generally only touch those people who we care about and are close to (Note:  Other cultures seem to avoid this pitfall).   Hugging is amazingly restorative and healing--the literal reaching out and giving of comfort.  It's a simple way to say, "Hey, I care about you enough to risk smelling your unwashed hair and stale perfume."  And it's so damn simple.  So simple, in fact, that I didn't even realize I missed it.  

Sans man, I suppose I'll have to rely upon random co-workers and C. to give me a little bit of feel-good lovin' every once in awhile.  Even for a girl of my WASPy background, that's a depressing little reality.  So I'll be grateful for those random hugs I receive, even when they come from unexpected sources.  

 

Locker Room Etiquette

We've all been here before:  After a workout, you're trying to wrestle out of a sweaty sports-bra or swimsuit and doing your best to keep the girly parts covered, when you turn around, there she is--The Naked Woman.  

As someone who has spent a vast amount of hours in women's locker rooms, most of them before the age of 18, I have often found myself wondering what the proper etiquette is for changing in a locker room.  Should you wiggle yourself into a stall, writhing in and out of your clothing while trying not to drop you clean underpants in the toilet?  Note:  if you're in a locker room with few stalls, this will also garner some pretty evil glares from the ladies who just want to go potty but were forced to wait on you for over five minutes.  Or is it better to do some version of the towel-t-shirt swap while staying as physically close to your locker as possible?  I always end up flashing my derriere at someone anyway, but this is generally the one I try.  I ust say, I've got it down to an art at this point.  But then...we have the naked ladies who just put it all out there.  

Today, I had just finished drying my hair in the bathroom portion of the locker room, and when I walked back to the changing/locker area, there were not one but TWO naked ladies.  One was slathering on lotion, and the other was brushing her hair.  Ok...please tell me WHY you cannot do those things AFTER you at least put on your undies and bra?  I'm no prude, and I prance around all day in my undies...in the privacy of my own home.  However, I grew up in a modest-enough house to expect NOT to see some random woman's who-ha in the middle of the day.  To top it off, these 2 ladies in particular continued their entire getting-ready routine (lotion, hair-fixing, make-up) sans any type of garment.  Totally comfortable and completely oblivious. 

Don't get me wrong, you have the right to be comfortable.  If I could get away with it, I'd wear my dirty, ugly, old-as-hell, size XL Vandy sweatpants to work every day.  And I understand that putting on clothes after a locker-room shower is miserable (still sweating, etc). But there is also something to be said for respecting the comfort of those around you.  If you are doing the naked-walk all over the locker room, I feel like I'm being ambushed--don't look over there!  Shit, she moved, don't look left!  Ahh!  

Maybe I just have some random hang-up or eerily repressed feelings.  Am I just being a prude?Maybe I need to join the sexual revolution Part Deux.   So please tell me, what's a girl to do post-workout?  I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!

It's Over, But I'm Not Supposed To Talk To You.

Lately, I have had the great joy of rediscovering something I never even realized I'd lost:  My very best friend.  Otherwise known as the Ex (whom I'll call S). 

Why is it that, after a break-up, all of our friends tell us to stay away, not talk to the bastard, to act strong and happy and carefree?  Good riddance to him.  Stay away.  And above all, don't you DARE call him crying and asking what went wrong and askingwhy can't we be together and saying I still love you. DO NOT DO THIS.

But what if blowing off the recent ex means that you also have to say goodbye and break ties with your best friend?  Yes, I lost a boyfriend--a relationship, a companion, a person I could envision growing old with--but losing the friendship?  To me, that's the unbearable part.  I just cannot say a forever goodbye to the person who has been my confidant for the past five years and who knows the real, true Kate. 

I've received a lot of slack from friends for my continued relationship with S.  We still talk almost every day--I call him when I'm upset, I ask him about his job, we talk about the election, etc.  All the same things we used to talk about, but without the pressure of trying to make a relationship work.  And somehow, with that big, fat stress-bomb out of the picture, we've regained our friendship.  I could not be happier.  After all the drama, we finally found our way back to us.  S & K:  secret junk food eaters, nature lovers, travelers, amateur chefs, long drives with great conversations, best friends.  

So why do people keep telling me to cut him out of my life?  I realize that S and I's past track record doesn't make us overly trustworthy (on, of, on, off, but i still love him, never again, etc.).  But no worries, dear friends.  I'm not crawling back to him.  I am not delusional enough to think that it just-maybe-might-work-again-just-one-more-time.  I realize that it is over.  What I cannot realize, or accept, is that I am "supposed" to not want to talk to him or turn to him.  

This is the only way I know how to explain it:  He's my person.  

Soul-mate, schmoul-mate, but S is the one person who truly, 100% gets me.  And I can predict his every move before he even thinks about it.  I can truly tell him anything, whether it's that I think Mike Rowe is really hot or that I'm out of clean underwear or that I miss him.  No judgments.  Just understanding.  

It's no secret that the past month has been a rough one for me.  Through it all, one person was consistently and unfaltering there for me:  S.  He was there at 7 a.m. and 2 a.m. and 5 p.m.  He let me babble about anything.  He let me cry, whine, bitch, yell, sob, curse, and cry even more.  Not only was he there, but he was supportive.   He suffered a similar loss while we were in college, and it is beyond comforting to talk to someone who understands what happens when emotional roller coaster meets 2 papers, 1 research job, 1 internship, 5 classes, job searching, and Lucy-dog's attitude.  When most of my other friends flaked out (admittedly, I'm not big on asking for help), he was there.

Pardon me while I break the break-up taboo.  I will not hate him, I will not call him names, and I will not bash him to my friends.  I haven't forgotten why we broke up, but I do remember why we were great friends before we ever dated.  I realize that not all break ups are this amicable, but I am so grateful that ours is.  I'm so incredibly grateful to have my best friend back.

I realize that things will change once we start dating other people, but for now I'm relishing the return of S & K, the BFF edition.

Mood swings

I won't even pretend that my emotions haven't been all over the place lately.  

I DO NOT recommend (or wish upon my very worst enemy) the experience of being in your final year of law school with more work to do than hours in the day, looking for a job in a miserable economy...and then simultaneously losing your boyfriend of four and a half years and your perfect, wise, irreplaceable grandmother.  It's flat-out miserable.  

Now, I realize how very lucky I am.  In 8 months, I will possess a law degree.  I still have both my of parents, with whom I am very, very close, and the best sister on earth.  My dog is practically perfect in every way.  I've got great, funny, and clever friends. I have a (very nice) roof over my head, a car, a computer, etc. etc.  I am super healthy.  Heck, my football team is even doing great this year (Go 'Dores!).  While I generally despise this term, there is no denying that I have a very blessed life.  I am one lucky girl. 

But I can't seem to stop myself from bursting into tears in the baking aisle at the grocery.  Or staring into space instead of listening in class.  Or seeing a disheveled-looking couple getting breakfast at Panera on Sunday morning, and thinking, "that used to be us."  And then I feel guilty for being sad because I have so many good things in my life.  I have never been allowed to feel sorry for myself, and now is not the time to start.  

My grief over the loss of my grandmother is understandable to me.  It's ok to cry over the fact that I never learned how to can apple butter.  That seems normal, right?  I know I have the right to be sad about her passing, and I know it will take time to get used to missing her.  But it's the sadness over the break-up that's really getting under my skin.  Why do I get so sad about those couples at Panera when I have zero desire to hop back on the relationship bandwagon?  Why is it so painfully obvious that (literally) all my friends a getting married?  And why do I care so much that the only people who hit on me are 16 year-olds and scary old men???

I would be lying if I said I didn't have a fear of being that old women with too many cats (err, bassets) and an over-sized garden, who spends Christmas at the soup kitchen because she's got nowhere else to go.  So perhaps I'm just freaked out by the possibility of perpetual singledom.  Or maybe I'm slightly jealous when my friends throw around terms like "We're going to..." or "I get so mad at insert-significant-other's-name-here when he forgets to..."  I mean, who doesn't want someone else around to take out the trash and tell you that it's ok when you screw up at work?  Not to mention the benefits of having a built-in date to the inevitable glut of weddings/parties/alumni events which require attendance. 

However, someone recently pointed out to me that perhaps I'm having a overload of loss lately.  I will never be a student again, I will forever call the Ex "my ex," and I am slowly learning to say "My grandmother was" instead of "my grandmother is."  A loss of one thing tends to magnify the loss of another thing, and the only way to get over those losses are to embrace them, acknowledge them, and then find a way to push through and move on. 

I get out of bed every morning and go through the motions of my day.  I go to work and enjoy my job.  Every once and awhile, I hear something interesting in class.  I go to the gym and feel elated after a good workout.  I even laugh.  I am not unhappy in a general sense.  Amazingly, I feel like I've got my shit together more than I ever have.  I know that I'm going to be ok.  And even if I am that woman with the 20 dogs and a dusty old house, I'll be happy.  I know that.  

I just have to get through this hard time of grief and loss.  I have to push through it and remember how lucky I am.  I have to find some way to remember the things I once had, to know that I am a better person for having them, and to remember that I am still whole even without them.  I have to find a way to get up in the morning and feel okay again.

And you know where I think I'll start?  By canning some apple butter.  By myself.