tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863048613402452412024-03-18T22:38:16.912-05:00Edenborg EditionSharing thoughts
that keep us thinkingKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-32378716267730397912011-05-27T19:56:00.000-05:002011-05-27T19:56:24.177-05:00Back to the Future<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Dissertation's done</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Moving on to something new</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And no more haiku. </strong></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nataliedee.com/062806/fortune-cookie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://www.nataliedee.com/062806/fortune-cookie.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><a href="http://www.nataliedee.com/">http://www.nataliedee.com/</a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Beware, consitent blogging coming soon ...</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-71964322793639587842010-12-05T20:51:00.000-06:002010-12-05T20:51:02.193-06:00You Name It<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JSHN1VGgWA84TfNGdu7BTGjQIMz79vwYTKANUR0WmwIUmKNw4WrTlk9u6uPxm_fNxW6Bsiw3gpdEXjVE6X1W1ratVegphwfarxEDC8Q-T9UXPa903xE32v0wGcOGjiWs391ZyJWHqIg/s1600/ornament3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JSHN1VGgWA84TfNGdu7BTGjQIMz79vwYTKANUR0WmwIUmKNw4WrTlk9u6uPxm_fNxW6Bsiw3gpdEXjVE6X1W1ratVegphwfarxEDC8Q-T9UXPa903xE32v0wGcOGjiWs391ZyJWHqIg/s320/ornament3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Before I even opened the box that contained our Christmas decorations today, the first memory I had was of a small wooden angel ornament. It's not an ornate ornament. And my reason for liking it has nothing to do with the holiday. This ornament has my name on it. I know, it doesn't seem like a big deal. (And as you can tell, Grace wasn't quite so impressed with it.) The thing is my name was spelled right on this tiny piece of wood. And that was -- and apparently still is -- a big deal to me. Here's why. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">These days I go by Kate. I was born Katherine and was called Katey. As a grade school kiddo, I had a heck of a time finding anything with my name spelled right on it. Many other kids had folders and pencils displaying their names. One of those kids was my best friend Katie. Everything had her name on it, not mine. The spelling of "ie" was much, much more prevalent than "ey." (And mind you, back in the late-70s, early 80s it wasn't so easy to get things personalized like it is today. Heck, you can even have your dog's name embroidered on a pet bed.) </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfVSyWt3QJuHlLfE1y_35PmlVkc77nnstN4TW5w4CxbaT-nvZKHdazFppyMmKtLpbyNDP1oZjX1zZsNq3qqgpWWG3l-6sTZ8UIA7v8EcxGMxzVgJaff7tDL9HjJSaIPss3Bq_2vkuRZo/s1600/ornament.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfVSyWt3QJuHlLfE1y_35PmlVkc77nnstN4TW5w4CxbaT-nvZKHdazFppyMmKtLpbyNDP1oZjX1zZsNq3qqgpWWG3l-6sTZ8UIA7v8EcxGMxzVgJaff7tDL9HjJSaIPss3Bq_2vkuRZo/s200/ornament.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I rather liked being Katey with an "ey." It suited me and I was proud of it. And it was especially fun once I learned to write in cursive and could use the tail of my "y" to cross my "t." That said, I still longed for seeing my name on things. Oddly enough, when I started my newspaper journalism career in college, I decided to change the byline on my stories from Katey to Kate. I finally had the chance to see my name -- Katey -- in print and I changed it. Sometimes I kinda want to go back to my Kateyhood. Back to the day when I first saw my name in print, on an angel ornament. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSI4UHcca6yXFb2JOeBo7JOhKvxclPqyPuFIhF0LU8je89xpTnh6Bwgqn-izQZXL8PEUK8pzCdv_7iZj9lqf3j5SgYpc7VKbW08AXbCKIgd38_6vIM0aKWKjauG1hS_U1A5MCF3qnvAI/s1600/ornament.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSI4UHcca6yXFb2JOeBo7JOhKvxclPqyPuFIhF0LU8je89xpTnh6Bwgqn-izQZXL8PEUK8pzCdv_7iZj9lqf3j5SgYpc7VKbW08AXbCKIgd38_6vIM0aKWKjauG1hS_U1A5MCF3qnvAI/s200/ornament.JPG" width="200" /></a>Turns out that Grace got her own angel ornament with her name on it this year, a snowman angel, but an angel nonetheless. I'm sure she loves seeing her name in print as much as I do. Or she will. Once she's old enough to read, that is. </div></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=59908" type="text/javascript">
</script><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-68044163263005305942010-10-07T09:53:00.000-05:002010-10-07T09:53:27.188-05:00Keeping Watch<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Day-to-day routines</strong><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Replaced by a new normal</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Time keeps keeps on ticking.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span id="goog_1395877303"></span><span id="goog_1395877304"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhf2Bk4ucWFfDaZy-_FTQocm7WkLJuYTEA62_74p2RUl0uCrpL4mixGDCue1hdJK_1JaSFrA7fUs1Zb9DWN0oIifxB8jO7XQYwKbnrxoXu30lRsgKYe1plfXgvHFgvrYDNggVLyDvorQ/s1600/watch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhf2Bk4ucWFfDaZy-_FTQocm7WkLJuYTEA62_74p2RUl0uCrpL4mixGDCue1hdJK_1JaSFrA7fUs1Zb9DWN0oIifxB8jO7XQYwKbnrxoXu30lRsgKYe1plfXgvHFgvrYDNggVLyDvorQ/s200/watch.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I put my dad's watch on my wrist the day he went into the hospital and have been wearing it ever since. Planning to give it back to him very soon.</span></i></div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-29413835864514651242010-08-16T11:03:00.001-05:002010-08-16T14:40:25.750-05:00Hair Haiku (Delay Due to Dissertation)<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Had a slight delay<br />
Hair is not cut nor colored<br />
Needs to happen soon.</b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5GcKttCO70bum3K_D2Dv3zelnMe3spWjnv-QaBF8equsooY_QdEHlkvUJoDaqjIv6lM9_XWF7kzDZVQr8qG8Omfm4We_0_fhx8i3OrosMK8ugMGihDGIyrJZB8YBS2EknSdKImJZzGQc/s320/lookin-like-an-acid-casualty.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nataliedee.com/"><em>www.nataliedee.com</em></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** I am a fan of Natalie Dee's comic illustrations. Much of what she does isn't quite as ... errr, uhhh ... clean. This one seemed suitable <br />
and appropriate for my family friendly blog.</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-4651913508266807092010-07-27T10:57:00.001-05:002010-07-27T11:13:50.526-05:00Doing Once Done<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4I-dbPkouMa32sltabjFrwRFJwT6A-xA-0P3xubbI9BcAJRSF18t-0aoyGFwceuCzU_nRSHRIYYfjpFFuPuukK7nsQFZ0V2kz2bnEMigIeipLUdfZde4IAoz8Csmnf5yu0XUQRg3g94/s1600/list.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4I-dbPkouMa32sltabjFrwRFJwT6A-xA-0P3xubbI9BcAJRSF18t-0aoyGFwceuCzU_nRSHRIYYfjpFFuPuukK7nsQFZ0V2kz2bnEMigIeipLUdfZde4IAoz8Csmnf5yu0XUQRg3g94/s320/list.jpg" /></a>Seems like everyone has some version of a summer to-do list but since I have this one thing that needs to get done this summer, I thought it made sense to write a <b>Post-Dissertation To-Do List</b>. And here it is. The items are in no particular order, just the order they popped into my head.<br />
<div></div><ul><li>Plan Japanese-esque garden for our yard </li>
<ul><li><i>Minus the water features, otherwise known as mosquito breeding grounds.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Relaunch the blog </li>
<ul><li><i>Perhaps under a new name, how exciting.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Get a quilt rack </li>
<ul><li><i>It's the little things, I tell ya.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Hold a garage sale in spring</li>
<ul><li><i>Oodles of stuff -- baby stuff, my stuff, random stuff, stuff-stuff -- piling up.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>See some great bands/hear some great music</li>
<ul><li><i>Ok, so I've already been doing some of this, this summer. I have to stay sane somehow.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Take some time alone with Jay </li>
<ul><li><i>It'll be great to be able take some time together where I'm not even the slightest bit distracted by the everlasting, looming project. </i></li>
</ul>
<li>Take an improv class </li>
<ul><li><i>Bet that took you by surprise. Very much outta my comfort zone.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Do some training activity with Ella Puggeroo</li>
<ul><li><i>She deserves some one-on-one attention from us -- at least that's what she's told us. </i></li>
</ul>
<li>Play soccer </li>
<ul><li><i>Not as easy as it sounds. I need to learn more about the game first and all the lessons around here are for kiddos. </i></li>
</ul>
<li>Do a weekly cool craft or adventure with Grace</li>
<ul><li><i> This is one of the most motivating items on this list.</i></li>
</ul>
<li>Write a kid's book</li>
<ul><li><i>Have had some ideas bouncing around for awhile. Just need the time to pin them down. </i></li>
</ul>
<li>Write my own book(s)</li>
<ul><li><i>Something I would love-love to do, or at least be able to focus on it. </i></li>
</ul></ul>Ah, focus. That's what's been shifting so much over the last five years. So much of what has happened in the last half decade was never on a to-do list, but I'm so glad it was done. <br />
<ul></ul>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-82214473717331807572010-07-14T09:38:00.000-05:002010-07-14T09:38:01.335-05:00Social Media SalonI got a shorter haircut relatively recently (you know, a cut where people ask "I thought you were going to grow your hair out?") and now I'm rethinking what I want to do with my hair. It's one length (bangs too) that is right at chin level. I haven't colored it in three years, so it's a medium brown, very straight. <br />
<br />
<div> </div>Here are my options:<br />
<ul><li>Keep it at the present length and color it </li>
<li>Cut it shorter</li>
<li>Cut it shorter and color it</li>
</ul>Keeping it as is, is <b>not </b>an option.<br />
<br />
<div> </div>I tend to get stuck in ruts when it come to hairstyles and such (another blog topic entirely : ), so I thought I'd toss this out here on the blog and Twitter (follow @kateered) to get a wider variety of perspectives. This strategy was inspired by a co-worker and fellow blogger -- <a href="http://www.thesnyder5.com/2010/06/taking-twitter-shopping.html">Molly at The Snyder 5</a> -- who sought feedback on formal dresswear.<br />
<br />
<div> </div>Please vote for which cut and/or color look you like (A is the top photo and F is the bottom photo; I think you can figure out the rest). <br />
<br />
<div> </div>A: COLOR = Bold, chunky blond, red highlights CUT = Similar length to mine right now, but she has bangs.<br />
B: COLOR = Very Subtle, highlights CUT= The length of her hair is just a touch longer than mine.<br />
C: COLOR = Even bolder, chunky blond, red highlights CUT= Shorter than mine, with bangs and layering<br />
D: COLOR = Deep red, burgundy highlights CUT= Shorter than mine<br />
E: COLOR = Blond, light highlights in the front CUT= Shorter than mine<br />
F: COLOR = Full blond (not likely to go this route) CUT = Shorter than mine<br />
<br />
<div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdgRZL51YZhhyeegXNXPY0WOZnxSShR-mmr_VOxOt2Huj22RLWS4_17AIjT0m5oFZ3WoEuO3XF1gv7I4p7IdL1k2Z9QMJObTeKXvJNvaOa41PtIJPiqbzq7RDiV2ucuuScAh15uDGsUI/s1600/hair1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdgRZL51YZhhyeegXNXPY0WOZnxSShR-mmr_VOxOt2Huj22RLWS4_17AIjT0m5oFZ3WoEuO3XF1gv7I4p7IdL1k2Z9QMJObTeKXvJNvaOa41PtIJPiqbzq7RDiV2ucuuScAh15uDGsUI/s320/hair1.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3waolBufcldAsweHdSiL5plQzjyPwt1AHChrwZb9Okr_ggR4Rzqayl1z5XzU71TU8v559dzq2uh3spdGQQObRF4mqr8k5fnjUSN3I1qMho605omxgGylV902OEHo2dALEbyR9DI4Jts/s1600/hair3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3waolBufcldAsweHdSiL5plQzjyPwt1AHChrwZb9Okr_ggR4Rzqayl1z5XzU71TU8v559dzq2uh3spdGQQObRF4mqr8k5fnjUSN3I1qMho605omxgGylV902OEHo2dALEbyR9DI4Jts/s320/hair3.jpg" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELMRfg_l5L6NRjkeauQsJlJerCh42XDVUSzGyT5NgtlO2FQzoz63QtRXiqZrX5fVVP2efKoEb8YHhdvKKXrfVIuBiDDjQdB-NqgxMG9UjOKnk49OUTAAC-AJyIXmhQBCyzkE1-B5iURk/s1600/hair2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELMRfg_l5L6NRjkeauQsJlJerCh42XDVUSzGyT5NgtlO2FQzoz63QtRXiqZrX5fVVP2efKoEb8YHhdvKKXrfVIuBiDDjQdB-NqgxMG9UjOKnk49OUTAAC-AJyIXmhQBCyzkE1-B5iURk/s320/hair2.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHRLdfS-s_ir8GACN3W6sjx8KFlvwtvuTvvBrvPucfVXPc5sb7t2IRgvUxPsZifkrTOaVxMZp1QL6BSPqFHaIlf3ceVIIImszNjwFyqFEKqNKu1_pAUIYzd4oyXI6f-lLD29Msndf71o/s1600/hair4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHRLdfS-s_ir8GACN3W6sjx8KFlvwtvuTvvBrvPucfVXPc5sb7t2IRgvUxPsZifkrTOaVxMZp1QL6BSPqFHaIlf3ceVIIImszNjwFyqFEKqNKu1_pAUIYzd4oyXI6f-lLD29Msndf71o/s320/hair4.jpg" width="264" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7jxaloAaFn4UJkkJRsnq7zizobLrpHyLHDAxeSyZbjGJY63CTmB811rp6Fzgxs3wBicToMH2miUxIS9krhlqynLErHIJqMLditk6Vojm5exppqita4eW8yLoXqLWCzxm3mCIFaFuEqU/s1600/hair5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7jxaloAaFn4UJkkJRsnq7zizobLrpHyLHDAxeSyZbjGJY63CTmB811rp6Fzgxs3wBicToMH2miUxIS9krhlqynLErHIJqMLditk6Vojm5exppqita4eW8yLoXqLWCzxm3mCIFaFuEqU/s320/hair5.jpg" width="228" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BGr1CaRLp2xni78CA8u3E8MIqOhQnt9zRP4_NWuPbdhJqqgtmrT_uIAIIG7KYVPxCFJCNDe-3JGNeXdDJeomYu1OPHM5duKdWOiGcG5si8GA8jGwvu8gwWzChBa77WAEMF5UBAKMhU0/s1600/simpson-short-hair-picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BGr1CaRLp2xni78CA8u3E8MIqOhQnt9zRP4_NWuPbdhJqqgtmrT_uIAIIG7KYVPxCFJCNDe-3JGNeXdDJeomYu1OPHM5duKdWOiGcG5si8GA8jGwvu8gwWzChBa77WAEMF5UBAKMhU0/s320/simpson-short-hair-picture.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><br />
<div> </div><br />
<div> You can provide your feedback in these ways:</div><ul><li>Tweet on Twitter (follow @kateered)</li>
<li>Comment on Facebook </li>
<li>Post a comment on EdenborgEdition.blogspot.com (right here!) </li>
</ul>I thank you in advance for your insights and will keep posting about the incoming votes and final results. (Don't let the faces in the photographs bias you. Just because a cut and color makes Jessica Simpson or Keira Knightley look good, doesn't mean it'll do the same for me.)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-53784733868974337302010-07-04T22:25:00.003-05:002010-07-04T22:35:09.849-05:00Music to My Ears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJEnllTSjCEU1iqVMehe1rh9skJlb0bpmhni_KZ4XddRkFKGOQPOPvvZwYBaRf0Mrnf48Lh75x3IYbcrTYsWxwyHv72PLPaCbNkB2ZyCwuojCK7OtTxDZJP7sQTF3yjuh1HJiLBDLIpaQ/s1600/South.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJEnllTSjCEU1iqVMehe1rh9skJlb0bpmhni_KZ4XddRkFKGOQPOPvvZwYBaRf0Mrnf48Lh75x3IYbcrTYsWxwyHv72PLPaCbNkB2ZyCwuojCK7OtTxDZJP7sQTF3yjuh1HJiLBDLIpaQ/s200/South.bmp" width="200" /></a></div>Even though I haven't yet written about it here, music is very important to me. I can't sing, I can't play an instrument (but for a few -- very few -- chords on the guitar), but I love music. (I even created an South Park-themed avatar with headphones to illustrate my liking of music.) So, I'm thinking there will be many blog posts on this topic to come. <br />
<br />
But as a starter, I hit shuffle on my iPod and took note of the first 10 random songs that came up. Here they are with some commentary. I've also put the links to the albums these songs are on on iTunes in case you're interested. I like to be handy like that. (This was also inspired by fellow blogger <a href="http://www.themarketingmama.com/2010/07/hook-up-my-ipod.html">Marketing Mama's recent plea</a> to hook her up with some new music.) And no, no one is paying me to recommend them. And since these aren't my top 10 favorite songs, so I am not really even recommending them. They are mentioned because they happened to come up in the mix. <br />
<br />
You are now entering Kate's iPod:<br />
<br />
1. Noella Rae: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/fly-me-back/id48781112">Brenda Weiler</a> -- Singer-songwriter from the Midwest who played the 400 Bar in Minneapolis a lot. I went to quite a few of her shows when I lived in the Twin Cities and she's awesome live. Love, love all of her albums. She has such a powerful voice and reminds me of the girl/woman I see myself as -- in my mind : )<br />
<br />
2. Something In the Way: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/something-in-the-way-ep/id351152658">Best Coast</a> -- This is a new girl band I just started to listen to. We'll I guess that would mean they're a new band to me, not new in general. Their sound is 60s garage rocky with the girl group sound. The "oldies" music I listened to while growing up definitely has influenced my present musical tastes.<br />
<br />
3. The Right Place: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/monsters-of-folk/id329917165">Monsters of Folk</a> -- This group is a great mix of some of the top musicians in -- the realm of music known as indie-rock. I'm not sure yet exactly what indie-rock means to me except that these guys rock the folk world.<br />
<br />
4. New Shoes:<a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/these-streets/id213008576"> Paolo Nutini</a> -- Jay and I share iPod music and this was one of his purchases. This guy has a dancy cool sound. It's creative and soulful. You'll like it.<br />
<br />
5. Idumea: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/american-angels-songs-hope/id86022104">Anonymous 4</a> -- This group of women sing inspirational a capella -- very soothing. Great for dissertation work. I usually can't study while listening to music with lyrics. Still, I get sick of listening to Mozart and since these voices are not singing in English, it's a very welcome break. <br />
<br />
6. I'll Cover You: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/rent-1996-original-broadway/id79307967">Original Broadway Cast of Rent</a> -- This album reminds me of when Jay and I first started dating. He had seen Rent and really wanted to share the show with me. I listened to the music before I saw the show. Our relationship and that show will always be connected in my mind and heart.<br />
<br />
7. When I Drink: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/the-gleam-ep/id308077648">The Avett Brothers</a> -- This has been my obsession band for the past eight months or so. They've been around for a number of years but I just found them toward the end of last year. I heart them.<br />
<br />
8. The Sweet Part of the City:<a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/heaven-is-whenever/id364375607"> The Hold Steady</a> -- Neat. This is the concert my husband is at this very moment. He hearts them. <br />
<br />
9. Paranoia in B Major: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/emotionalism-bonus-track-version/id253497527">The Avett Brothers</a> -- Love this song. Not surprising that a second song from this band showed up. They have by far the most songs on my ipod. I'll count them ... 56. Told you I was obsessed.<br />
<br />
10. Winter's Come & Gone: <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/you-are-my-little-bird/id219402664">Elizabeth Mitchell</a> -- This is from the first kid's album I got for Gracie. It's still by far the one I like the most.The best song on this album is her version of Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Much easier on the ears than Elmo's Song.<br />
<br />
And we now I return to my dissertation soundtrack. Hello Mozart, my old friend.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-31028256402038422042010-06-22T21:14:00.001-05:002010-06-22T21:15:15.030-05:00Dissertation Haiku, For All of You = Part II<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>Only six more months</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>Until the final deadline</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>It needs to get done.</b><br />
<br />
The sooner I get done, the sooner I get to <br />
spend more time with this little face.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDS9WcVQsxR9mjNju_-txQu40USLj9Hc532UDw_mdvovfpdGYM-1qqRcWhyphenhyphenDEOJ1sWLOohi0s3uITNnCbaZrUiA85wItxcrj3sYVS_ERyMf1EQmJM2yiM8zxNF4Ny5RGx5WfWtqQ-xFpU/s1600/MITtens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDS9WcVQsxR9mjNju_-txQu40USLj9Hc532UDw_mdvovfpdGYM-1qqRcWhyphenhyphenDEOJ1sWLOohi0s3uITNnCbaZrUiA85wItxcrj3sYVS_ERyMf1EQmJM2yiM8zxNF4Ny5RGx5WfWtqQ-xFpU/s320/MITtens.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">How's that for motivation?</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em><strong>** Yes, those are socks on her hands.</strong></em></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-46514737005464367552010-05-30T19:59:00.001-05:002010-05-31T10:37:59.777-05:00Dissertation Haiku, For All of You<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Data entry done</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Coding now begins -- how fun</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Want to be in sun</strong></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>** I know a haiku doesn't need to (and perhaps shouldn't) rhyme, but I lucked out.</strong></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-26415822048935526912010-05-24T13:45:00.001-05:002010-05-24T15:07:40.526-05:00Hello to Good BuysSo, I'm not really a shopper.<br />
<br />
My parents, husband and best friends can attest to how not-fun it can be to shop with Kate. I'm frugal and I don't like crowds. Recently I've come across a shopping experience that helps address one of my shopping issues: the multitude of consignment sales that pop up this time of year. There was one near my hometown a few months ago so I decided to partake in full force as a consigner, volunteer and buyer.<br />
<br />
I hadn't really gotten rid of very much of Grace's clothing and so we had two bins and two huge boxes of her clothes and two other boxes of miscellaneous items (this isn't including any of the big items like swings and bouncy seats). So I decided it was time to let some stuff go. If (if, if, if, if, if) we decide to have another child, I kept some favorites and some necessities, but I winnowed the "stuff" in half. That left me with over 150 items (mostly clothes) to sell. Those of you who've priced things for a garage sale know how tedious the task can be, even more so for a consignment sale where there are particular rules, good rules but ones that make the process slower than you'd like. <br />
<br />
The volunteering part was motivated by my desire to get into the sale early. Volunteers get in a day before regular shoppers. This was great for a crowd-avoider like me. Or so I thought. As I was hanging up some items on the rows and rows of kiddo clothing I overheard some one say: "Then when they open at 5:30 everyone just runs." I inquired further and yes, they were indeed refering to the volunteer pre-sale, not the sale-sale. I started calculating how many volunteers were working my shift, times the number of shifts ... yikes. This was going to be over a hundred shoppers.<br />
<br />
I showed up to the pre-sale 15 minutes early and had to park on the street and stand in an already parking lot-long line. I happened to stand next to someone who was in the same mindset as me. We both were not fixated on needing to get any one thing. No "Cabbage Patch Kid/Tickle Me Elmo/Toy Of The Moment" stampeding for me.<br />
<br />
Once inside the pace was brisk, but no one was rude at all. Big ticket items where gone quickly but I did snag a few choice deals for Grace. And found some cute outfits that were higher-end brands that I'd never ever buy at full price but would spend 2 to 5 bucks on.<br />
<br />
Then my bag and shoe obsession kicked in:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz12fXU7ufFIdED9DWZfY4ZtKKzjXDbFT5Zcb30p52Fovvv2SETbmpQtvH1tc6IitHIVYOaA04IUl2EwVCkpL-Dmcv3cQ_ly1TunIinlHlBjUiDOdTIeSXzi5ItnZu0UlRawIm2QJuQs/s1600/0409001635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz12fXU7ufFIdED9DWZfY4ZtKKzjXDbFT5Zcb30p52Fovvv2SETbmpQtvH1tc6IitHIVYOaA04IUl2EwVCkpL-Dmcv3cQ_ly1TunIinlHlBjUiDOdTIeSXzi5ItnZu0UlRawIm2QJuQs/s400/0409001635.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8vBq4LT7MTdco_mv4WWlcbw8xOTaF6TzEaaVIBaEswTBIROcE-Yn-ABKXQSvp79ymYt2gjxl4HILZNzQMduFX0oX-H3HLxukYjKpHKCvKpsknrC_EU0ZtBg9iNy6k3cL2cDAdF9iqks/s1600/0409001629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8vBq4LT7MTdco_mv4WWlcbw8xOTaF6TzEaaVIBaEswTBIROcE-Yn-ABKXQSvp79ymYt2gjxl4HILZNzQMduFX0oX-H3HLxukYjKpHKCvKpsknrC_EU0ZtBg9iNy6k3cL2cDAdF9iqks/s400/0409001629.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
They were just too cute to pass up. Those that remember my <a href="http://edenborgedition.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html">True Colors</a> post are likely shocked to see the pink theme in these items. And then there's this ... I bought her a play kitchen. But wait! I also got her a chair that looks like a tree stump with a lizard on it. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3T_xhpnOfQkfYv3pokmdfs2FTkyX4W3Oy1sBsJZGuhmIktW9GgyZToGHtA54-PmNEi7MeXBdtUY190e7pTW_5qvaQGxcO1fdKe7hSPdUB-XnoAXQkaeeoRt5nGWQgMPY6iHM_dIuDf8/s1600/0409000656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3T_xhpnOfQkfYv3pokmdfs2FTkyX4W3Oy1sBsJZGuhmIktW9GgyZToGHtA54-PmNEi7MeXBdtUY190e7pTW_5qvaQGxcO1fdKe7hSPdUB-XnoAXQkaeeoRt5nGWQgMPY6iHM_dIuDf8/s200/0409000656.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH2S7gJUV6VS0xC7rInVLYIt24HJm5igHx72FpNz6McP9NCuJwDBjSyNVP5V_7IpxnmbJfBDXIPLs5IwIcEQnELpfsT9fCHYrzRkS3rMY6n34MonwS9sh0_PlTIFTvAOMOpvUo0inwcE/s1600/0409000656a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH2S7gJUV6VS0xC7rInVLYIt24HJm5igHx72FpNz6McP9NCuJwDBjSyNVP5V_7IpxnmbJfBDXIPLs5IwIcEQnELpfsT9fCHYrzRkS3rMY6n34MonwS9sh0_PlTIFTvAOMOpvUo0inwcE/s200/0409000656a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Domestic chore-themed toy + outdoorsy reptile-themed seating = my very own Little Miss Muffet. </div><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">** Ok, I know a spider isn't a reptile and the little girl didn't likely make her own curds and whey ... but still : )</span></b>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-53176703013601714672010-05-02T15:10:00.002-05:002010-05-02T15:15:54.065-05:00The Long and The Short<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I REALLLLLLLY want to blog more -- I have lots to say. But here's why I'm not saying it right now. It starts with "diss" and ends in "ertation." It is what I need to get done-done before I can be the dedicated blogger that I'd like to be. This long paper/book/project/unwieldly weight-on-my-mind needs to be done in December 2010, no ifs, ands or buts. See the <a href="http://edenborgedition.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html">True Colors</a> blog post for a reminder of the general gist of my research. </div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj81ee0aC5q9hOwlTv-h0ahGVEJGJe2-guT8wI5pwdkRoKX_GEkdF1xaV4WPx7qJMY0dBD3AeKV32RGxKnQ1YRS4-7h59H-YshvLlHl7TXKknTZnHWl730oSE4Z2_qQnhj99iRFSpRd8/s1600/calvin1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj81ee0aC5q9hOwlTv-h0ahGVEJGJe2-guT8wI5pwdkRoKX_GEkdF1xaV4WPx7qJMY0dBD3AeKV32RGxKnQ1YRS4-7h59H-YshvLlHl7TXKknTZnHWl730oSE4Z2_qQnhj99iRFSpRd8/s320/calvin1.gif" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6e0fl2fG6CX2BHcsUQXVsZyAiequJTsl-F-QVpoU-owYbZ2kixSef53EONgHsgk87CvujmXgvKNca0uwadfxoZ-zsnvwsOLGnGGDmhQgWhJR2tmCjS889wA9jsKwI9j6znXYRKPU3FwQ/s1600/calvin2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6e0fl2fG6CX2BHcsUQXVsZyAiequJTsl-F-QVpoU-owYbZ2kixSef53EONgHsgk87CvujmXgvKNca0uwadfxoZ-zsnvwsOLGnGGDmhQgWhJR2tmCjS889wA9jsKwI9j6znXYRKPU3FwQ/s320/calvin2.gif" tt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">(As you'll notice, I have been "finishing" my dissertation since 2008 -- I haven't been in the right "mood" until this year : )</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So, why am I blogging about this? Two reasons: a) As an FYI to those who check in regularly. And b) As a way to keep me honest. Keep me on track. Keep me accountable. If I have all of you aware of my task then I need to make and meet my goals. Accountablity to the masses (heee) will be good. Once a month I'll write a longer blog. But at other times I'll be doing a dissertation blurb or brief Edenborg update. These might, if you're lucky, turn up in the form of haikus.</div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Diss Lowdown:</strong> This weekend I must continue to tackle data entry (reading children's periodicals from the 1920s and 1930s). Two more publications to go. By the end of May I should be done with this stage and on to data analysis by June. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Let the accountablity begin!Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-78672867238204333282010-04-05T07:50:00.001-05:002010-04-05T09:43:25.332-05:00Getting Lost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8ifTbS__IEOWJBKZP5ii93XB8hgkPW8qfFqt2c3rzGwPwt6tYxWOzNWcLbiO4f1hTZTFFLvlDTa73FI1fMql03de6TxLhY43QiYmGAzIo7aBRkfvQZVQMeXKgM3S6IJWyhuDV42o8ng/s1600/LostLogo_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8ifTbS__IEOWJBKZP5ii93XB8hgkPW8qfFqt2c3rzGwPwt6tYxWOzNWcLbiO4f1hTZTFFLvlDTa73FI1fMql03de6TxLhY43QiYmGAzIo7aBRkfvQZVQMeXKgM3S6IJWyhuDV42o8ng/s200/LostLogo_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Apologies for leaving your question unanswered. I left you dedicated readers hanging -- anxious to find out what I think of Lost. Or maybe you we too busy thinking about what you think about ALL of the unanswered questions of Lost.<br />
<br />
I want to commend those of you who've been dedicated watchers of the show. Wow. I would've gotten frustrated long ago. As I indicated in an earlier post I'm a newbie to the show. That said, at this point, I feel like I know just about as much about what's really going as long-time viewers. <br />
<br />
Jay and I watch the show on DVR so he's able to stop and explain bits of who certain people are or tell me what a certain place or object meant in previous seasons. We mess with each other every now and then saying "Ohhhh, I get it." Or "Ahhh, it all makes sense now." <br />
<br />
I did have a proud moment when watching it one night. I figured out that Claire was Jack's sister on my own (before they reminded viewers of that this season). Small victories. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqA2RGrxWtvpJhtS3eMvjC-km226Ezih-h4ZMRcaCP_nCyFJDB7bMvxYIwAPWTu48nwkrsQBNqysXjAF3BVN2k6N7BCZ_cSVQZv3Hw_xb5_oV3Al43y_FtZG0Jjwr8RNIEFZm5YZ4CDXM/s1600/kate-allie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqA2RGrxWtvpJhtS3eMvjC-km226Ezih-h4ZMRcaCP_nCyFJDB7bMvxYIwAPWTu48nwkrsQBNqysXjAF3BVN2k6N7BCZ_cSVQZv3Hw_xb5_oV3Al43y_FtZG0Jjwr8RNIEFZm5YZ4CDXM/s320/kate-allie.jpg" /></a></div>I have to say, it's interesting to see who shows up on the show -- such as the guy who played Chip on Kate and Allie, back in the day. He had a gun! Chip shouldn't have a gun. Where's his mom? Was his mom Kate or Allie? And was "Kate" Jane Curtain, or was she "Allie"? And what's the other mom's real name anyhow? <br />
<br />
Who knew one show could instigate so many questions?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-27819072509421331032010-03-18T14:25:00.004-05:002010-03-18T14:32:38.348-05:00Body Movin'I bought a jogging stroller for a reason. But that reason comes and goes. In spring and fall I feel motivated to jog. Summer, not so much. It's no fun running in sticky weather. And winter, forget it. Jogging in freezing temps or inside on a track makes the task that much more of a challenge.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's nice out today, I'm home and I'm inspired by my husband's plans to start running. And I need a break from this dissertation work. The perfect time to jog -- if there is such a thing. The last few years I've done the <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml">Couch-to-5K</a> program which is supposed to allow my body to adjust to the fact that I'm asking it to do something I don't do very often. Run. I usually get through the nine weeks of the program and then am reminded that I really don't like running. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
So now that I've communicated my ambivalence for running I'll let you know what I'd really rather do. Swim. But given that we're out in the woods, the closest pool is 20 minutes or so away. That I can handle, but in order to swim laps I have to join a gym (which doesn't make financial sense to do just for swimming) or swim at the my old high school pool which isn't heated and might not have lanes open for lap swim. </div><br />
Long story, short. I need my exercising to be convenient. Running is that. So I'm off. I'll let you know how day one of week one goes ... be back shortly. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV43NYvTCkT4LWQVum6H0zXYaNkoq7BkEsqKBLmBBo5PYXZMIlHC8ZReP5MMZevUfrFAiGPK8jSB40xcnOHhEqmzWApMjZJVJgtAd5VHuu0kytzJbSMwptqnnsJ89fTwp1LBTkC_bBvM/s1600-h/ipod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><strong></strong></a></div><br />
<strong>Later in the afternoon</strong><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV43NYvTCkT4LWQVum6H0zXYaNkoq7BkEsqKBLmBBo5PYXZMIlHC8ZReP5MMZevUfrFAiGPK8jSB40xcnOHhEqmzWApMjZJVJgtAd5VHuu0kytzJbSMwptqnnsJ89fTwp1LBTkC_bBvM/s1600/ipod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVV43NYvTCkT4LWQVum6H0zXYaNkoq7BkEsqKBLmBBo5PYXZMIlHC8ZReP5MMZevUfrFAiGPK8jSB40xcnOHhEqmzWApMjZJVJgtAd5VHuu0kytzJbSMwptqnnsJ89fTwp1LBTkC_bBvM/s200/ipod.jpg" vt="true" width="200" /></a>Not tooooo bad. Before I headed out I downloaded a free running app for my iPod touch called <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/321run-touch/id320476262?mt=8">321run</a> (thanks Jay : ). It lets you know when to run and when to walk so you don't have to use a watch to track the time. Anything that makes the process easier can help keep me moving. My iPod just might help make me a runner. Nothing can stop me now ... except maybe the snow we're supposed to get tomorrow.</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-12787031934256184642010-03-15T10:49:00.001-05:002010-03-15T11:06:48.264-05:00Strolling into Spring"Peoples! Peoples walking!"<br />
<br />
Peoples were indeed out and about yesterday. I felt the need to get outside with Grace for a bit, so we took a stroller walk around in town. I contemplated jogging, but that urge left me quite quickly. Just being outside without a bulky coat was refreshing enough. We went around a few parks and through a college campus so there was a lot for Gracie to see.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxOiNCwIvftRtczcYLqH1NBB4CjvCtqtNiGTKmRS4Fz-QMw-k5IWVMiG0h0PR7RFWml4y62COP1R9829luDYrLuAgpsfeiIkx0-QfIKD8cEjAC1pFckcaMpgyD8AwC-YZNWQFpRfoPqw/s1600-h/spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxOiNCwIvftRtczcYLqH1NBB4CjvCtqtNiGTKmRS4Fz-QMw-k5IWVMiG0h0PR7RFWml4y62COP1R9829luDYrLuAgpsfeiIkx0-QfIKD8cEjAC1pFckcaMpgyD8AwC-YZNWQFpRfoPqw/s320/spring.jpg" vt="true" /></a>As we strolled I realized in many ways this was Grace's first spring -- at least a spring that she could interact with. As we took our walk she took on the role of tour guide calling out things and pointing:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"This way."</strong> (Directing me to cross the street to get a better look a what some "peoples" were doing.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"Ooo, ooo. Catch."</strong> (Commenting on some college "kids" playing Frisbee.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"Birdies! Aww. Awww."</strong> (That's her bird call.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"Ooohhh."</strong> (In reaction to a skateboarder.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"Go Mommy!"</strong> (Directing me to go faster up a steep hill. Great little personal trainer : )<br />
<br />
Guess I didn't need to go for that jog after all.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-23399118725593921062010-03-09T12:55:00.003-06:002010-03-09T13:01:01.970-06:00Cutting Remarks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb185a8Icyo_VgoABAdE6jiwM1ZB9LBfYU9C7vMfIruq2qTWunBpqhkevpNEhNMZyDU-yUyn0Cd1Bbu1pu0VL4lr5MiYGNJN_9zEAVbpRimZm6Y0HiFC2UGi2_LPY4P2rYZnXYVUxNI2c/s1600-h/hair2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb185a8Icyo_VgoABAdE6jiwM1ZB9LBfYU9C7vMfIruq2qTWunBpqhkevpNEhNMZyDU-yUyn0Cd1Bbu1pu0VL4lr5MiYGNJN_9zEAVbpRimZm6Y0HiFC2UGi2_LPY4P2rYZnXYVUxNI2c/s320/hair2.jpg" /></a></div>Grace had her first (real) haircut this weekend. Jay and I have trimmed her bangs a number of times over the past months, but she's never had a haircut-haircut. <br />
<br />
Gracie has these curly curls. Very cute, but tangly. Her hair was almost to the middle of her back. It was getting caught in bibs and stuck in her mouth. And it was becoming great collector of stray bits of food. It was time. <br />
<br />
No beauty salon for this girl. We took her to SportsClips where her dad goes. They have little TVs that we thought might help keep her distracted if things got a bit sad. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8LgrHUrJqwDj5UySYDB9eYyBaHsbShsiDg5jXj27XFldyBMDQmIi3QjGNK4IYfcIYywChmz15L58EfeARA6I54IfUa6LfF7m2TroyCJNTpFDvskOvgxI9uGua9bBaCxUBtD4_ybMEwE/s1600-h/hair1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8LgrHUrJqwDj5UySYDB9eYyBaHsbShsiDg5jXj27XFldyBMDQmIi3QjGNK4IYfcIYywChmz15L58EfeARA6I54IfUa6LfF7m2TroyCJNTpFDvskOvgxI9uGua9bBaCxUBtD4_ybMEwE/s320/hair1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">She had a few seconds of tears, but then caught a look of herself in the mirror. Then she was distracted by the others getting their hair trimmed -- two young boys. And then she realized there was a TV right by the chair. As a true 2010 mom, I brought my ipod touch with as well (that's my hand in the picture). I've loaded some Sesame Street podcasts and other toddler distractions on to the gadget.</div><br />
Three inches were taken off and it made for the perfect length for a toddler. I kinda wanted to go a bit shorter, but didn't have the heart to have them cut out all of the curls ... yet.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">** And of course she was offered a sucker before we left : )</span></strong>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-9151196997724175982010-03-04T11:00:00.007-06:002010-03-04T11:04:08.967-06:00Healing Words<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlqwN_L5XyxXAUlLidv-EwvSJHP9Xg_PraNrNv4j3gb4AgsexyWTKYUArkPI-5HEjFJIKCOKJYYQt36r3aYUvJvHxJRadGxdLKSXMMHBs1hrQ8zpj0VyAPZJY5uH-r7zpWHiU-ATzQg4/s1600-h/eded.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlqwN_L5XyxXAUlLidv-EwvSJHP9Xg_PraNrNv4j3gb4AgsexyWTKYUArkPI-5HEjFJIKCOKJYYQt36r3aYUvJvHxJRadGxdLKSXMMHBs1hrQ8zpj0VyAPZJY5uH-r7zpWHiU-ATzQg4/s320/eded.jpg" width="240" /></a>I've been sick and/or injured for almost two months now and just so you know, I don't deal well with not being healthy. I don't whine about it -- I get frustrated with it. <br />
<br />
A perfect example: I was coughing so hard a few weeks ago I pulled or tore something in my lower back. I felt a pop and knew that movement wouldn't be particularly fun from that point forward. While I spend my workdays at a desk, I spend my nights and weekends with a toddler. We spend so much time on the floor playing. We also spend time running around -- mostly doing races down the hallway. Some time is also spent on me picking Grace up to console her after a fall, give a hug or transport her to her time out spot. This back thing limited all of that. </div><br />
Grace and I were alone (well Ella was there : ) in the house when my injury happened. As I forsaw my limitations I started to cry out of pain and frustration. <br />
<br />
Gracie looked at me with her concerned face all scrunched up and asked, "Mommy sad?" <br />
<br />
I explained, "Mommy's got an owie." <br />
<br />
She looked at me and said, "I kiss it." <br />
<br />
And she did. <br />
<br />
The pain, of course, was still there, but my state of mind and heart were all better.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-18428701093560495992010-02-26T11:48:00.001-06:002010-02-26T12:11:44.011-06:00Weekly Wondering: Stuck on the Sucker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHT4UmeodhIJscz41JrSBq4NO9m8K_CsEsaVTNhKWl_gRluVfX5UJNxjsw_NqOb-46C-g2770jN4Lu-vZEvgg4v8wN4NBbKZATJurhRfu8jjf_625lmWdH6blTOO-7NYhx5qC3lgV535Q/s1600-h/carelmo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHT4UmeodhIJscz41JrSBq4NO9m8K_CsEsaVTNhKWl_gRluVfX5UJNxjsw_NqOb-46C-g2770jN4Lu-vZEvgg4v8wN4NBbKZATJurhRfu8jjf_625lmWdH6blTOO-7NYhx5qC3lgV535Q/s320/carelmo.jpg" /></a></div>People seem to feel the need to give my kiddo candy, this is especially grocery store cashiers and even doctors. And not only is it candy, it's almost always a sucker. <br />
<br />
Two problems with this:<br />
<br />
1) They hand this to the child as you are leaving where ever it is you're at. That means after we get outside I'll need to pry the candy away from Grace as she wails, "Minnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeee!" Fun times.<br />
<br />
2) I'm pretty sure Grace hasn't had a sucker before. At least not to my knowledge. This means if I do let her have it, I'd likely find it stuck on the seat of the car, in Elmo fur (see picture) or, even worse, her in hair. Grace always drops things when she's in her car seat -- sometimes intentionally as if to say "Hey, I'm going to toss this on the floor and tell Mommy to get it because it's a fun game to play while she's driving." <br />
<br />
So, I ask, why suckers? There's got to be some other item that could work, something else that says: "Here you go, thanks for being a good toddler and not shrieking in our store/waiting room/urgent care office."Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-21657940997959453752010-02-17T08:01:00.003-06:002010-02-17T08:03:18.678-06:00Weekly Wondering: The Case of the ipod Touch<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFxesLwM1XWJJpgmiCduzr0IS4zOUUZ3OqNXfmxlrIRUb2tCgKEuCGwb_Lqs-rmjW91j5SROlRpSa5fAD-aNUtQ9jG07tFMHEwxo9O_FULGiaQYwkOOZjZAdtKB3WhTdL1pGtItbhVxM/s1600/bootie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFxesLwM1XWJJpgmiCduzr0IS4zOUUZ3OqNXfmxlrIRUb2tCgKEuCGwb_Lqs-rmjW91j5SROlRpSa5fAD-aNUtQ9jG07tFMHEwxo9O_FULGiaQYwkOOZjZAdtKB3WhTdL1pGtItbhVxM/s200/bootie.jpg" width="200" /></a>A few weeks ago I lost the case that I kept my ipod Touch in. Since I toss the thing into my bag everyday when I head to work, I need to have it in it's own case so it won't get all banged up. When I looked around to find a temporary fix, I thought to look in our coat closet. And there it was, the yellow and multi-colored bootie was the perfect size. It serves its protective purpose. But I'm hesitant to take the "case" out of my bag when I am in public. I don't think Jay even knows that I've been doing this -- he does now.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
Which brings me to a something I'll plan to post on a weekly basis to get comments, insights and responses. I'm calling it my "Weekly Wondering."<br />
<br />
<strong>What does having my ipod Touch in a baby bootie say about me?</strong><br />
<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-70094900292299608402010-02-14T13:30:00.014-06:002010-02-17T08:22:45.888-06:00Monkey See<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CLroN4SXzVLRo8UNxjJoUkpdT9h5-Hz6Th5uTdzFDRxeb20ntQyT0oxrhJmOHgurDO42VpOB01QJ3ouoeg6_fivHRyHw0-XwPiMMk4cNY8koVWkd1gjrDZehCdWeVl9hMfNTdNGoVgI/s1600-h/magmon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CLroN4SXzVLRo8UNxjJoUkpdT9h5-Hz6Th5uTdzFDRxeb20ntQyT0oxrhJmOHgurDO42VpOB01QJ3ouoeg6_fivHRyHw0-XwPiMMk4cNY8koVWkd1gjrDZehCdWeVl9hMfNTdNGoVgI/s320/magmon.jpg" /></a>I don't like to cook, but I really do like to bake. So figuring out what kind of cake to do for Grace's birthday each year will be something I look forward to. Since Jay's on a diet this year, I thought it would be a smart idea to do cupcakes instead of a cake so that those who came to our birthday gathering could take the extra cupcakes home with them. It so happened that I saw some cutely decorated cupcakes in a magazine. They looked fun and easy so I showed the picture of them to Grace and she exclaimed "Monkeys!!!!" Yep, these were it.</div><br />
The photo and recipe have been on my fridge for over a month but I never read over the ingredients or cupcake procedure that closely. I was in for an mini-adventure. (The use of this term will become clear shortly.) I added the cupcake ingredients to our weekly grocery list and headed to the store. Two products almost put a halt to my plan. It was all going smooth until I was trying to find mini-Oreos. I'd never looked for these before and assumed they'd be in the cookie aisle. I also assumed they'd be by the other Oreo products. I started to panic when they weren't were I thought they'd be. What else could I use? These cookies were the monkey ears, what other food would work? Then as I walked further down the aisle, away from other Oreos, I found them in a bag, right next to gingersnaps. How odd and how handy, all at once. I needed gingersnaps too. Phew. So now to the next mini-item. Mini-M&Ms. Here my assumption was that they'd be in the candy aisle. Being Valentine's weekend there were a plethora of bags of small packaged candies. I dug around and didn't find any that included mini-M&Ms. Ahghhhhhghhhh. Again I started thinking, what would be the same size as mini-M&Ms that I could use for eyes? The only thing that came to mind were those little red hot candies, but then all my monkeys would look possessed. I finally found an entire bag of little packages of mini-M&Ms that was tossed in the wrong bin. I grabbed 'em and thank goodness we had everything we needed. Lesson for Kate: Read the fine print in these magazine recipes.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHZ2-1Gu4EYUKAmCJ91ggh19uI26fhPmlN91F-Kl45prBJgpGM3wG6-Hur0IRQ7EHaK8u-2MBUzmZtsN2GnJo9rmjSghpPPksr_i6eE2oRo8DSQAo0-8Lz0YVxtCrySVww2EPCSpsvD0/s1600-h/ginger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHZ2-1Gu4EYUKAmCJ91ggh19uI26fhPmlN91F-Kl45prBJgpGM3wG6-Hur0IRQ7EHaK8u-2MBUzmZtsN2GnJo9rmjSghpPPksr_i6eE2oRo8DSQAo0-8Lz0YVxtCrySVww2EPCSpsvD0/s200/ginger.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_w-nFrqmMtKnWUUQQGLtURHN94az96otvo7ygzw1Z1KVAAqVP0J9PKEDcb3Pwrn6p85kysrK4IS96jgAZHRZXV3PQA8rny6CKSlQzPLhnyZO4yWeKA4_n_maep6fQfllT5mBi7Rc9epE/s1600-h/oreo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_w-nFrqmMtKnWUUQQGLtURHN94az96otvo7ygzw1Z1KVAAqVP0J9PKEDcb3Pwrn6p85kysrK4IS96jgAZHRZXV3PQA8rny6CKSlQzPLhnyZO4yWeKA4_n_maep6fQfllT5mBi7Rc9epE/s200/oreo.jpg" width="200" /></a>So the day before Grace's party I started the baking process. This was the easy part. Even making the homemade frosting worked well. Then the decorating. It was make or break time. The prep of the decorating implements was fun at first. I needed to "clean out" the filling of the mini-Oreos. Tasty. (Yes, I used a knife, not my tongue!) Then I read the directions to the next part: "Cut the gingersnaps." What do they mean by "cut"? The first few I took a knife to promptly shattered. Then I tried a few other things which resulted in treats for my pug assistant. Finally I used a knife to score the top of the cookie and then picked it up and snapped it. It broke right where it was supposed to. Another phew. After opening seven packs of mini-M&Ms to get the necessary 36 brown ones for the monkey eyes, I was ready for the cupcake assembly line to begin. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOxsvHYPbO7swWdp_RppHXF50Z20FWEoLdWzt0i_vub1e8hCwR1AY4jt7amlTPMbsW4A44nRMMwZhdLOCWk6-OmdgXTZk9TSSpB3FPHK-LQm1TALONdKZUscdw5Y-qUl2DK7BO1bEgVk/s1600-h/eyetry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOxsvHYPbO7swWdp_RppHXF50Z20FWEoLdWzt0i_vub1e8hCwR1AY4jt7amlTPMbsW4A44nRMMwZhdLOCWk6-OmdgXTZk9TSSpB3FPHK-LQm1TALONdKZUscdw5Y-qUl2DK7BO1bEgVk/s200/eyetry.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">First the mouth, then the ears. Mouth, ears ... on all 18 cupcakes. Now the part that could be tricky. The eyes. The tube of frosting I had was too big and if I put an obnoxious amount on the cupcake it could ruin it. I did a few "test eyes" on the back of some of the shattered gingersnaps using the non-brown M&Ms. One turned out very well so I felt I was ready to move on to the real thing. I ended up having two test monkeys. With not enough white frosting they looked ... eyeless. But then I got the hang of it. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWPRBWKBsM37kjL1NqnHpS0tzHn3P3FJ1jOYAa85M9OetEy0minAvjdwszSxi_0_UNue15C7Xr9uXYrvDnUeVWdNHzQyoSZe48grPGblDnsREKLEsnoHbIZh7IxChc8DDkxI-VRDThP4/s1600-h/mymon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWPRBWKBsM37kjL1NqnHpS0tzHn3P3FJ1jOYAa85M9OetEy0minAvjdwszSxi_0_UNue15C7Xr9uXYrvDnUeVWdNHzQyoSZe48grPGblDnsREKLEsnoHbIZh7IxChc8DDkxI-VRDThP4/s200/mymon.jpg" width="200" /></a>The last few steps. First, little bits of frosting for nostrils. Got it. Done. The last step, little tuffs of frosting hair on the monkey heads. I skipped this last step. I'd created some quite cute cupcakes and I had an inkling that this last touch could be the end of their cuteness. (I took this photo of some of them before I realized that a few were caged monkeys. Hee. Notice that I have the magazine image placed way away from my cupcakes so there is not the opportunity for a direct comparison. Ha.) </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Grace's birthday party day arrived and I was wondering if all the work was worth it. When I saw this little face consuming a monkey face, I had my answer. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-79043139500723279942010-02-09T16:03:00.008-06:002010-02-09T16:09:43.680-06:00The Truth -- It Hurts<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Two years ago today I was being lied to by well-meaning labor and delivery nurses. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b>"You'll likely give birth before noon."</b> = Grace was born at 3:18 p.m.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b>"You're through the worst of it."</b> = Hmmm, not sure what their definition of "worst" was -- but I don't think it was the same as mine. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDYUzCeskXyx-GM_3IRtShI9rp0ZeCqoJm2jB9AhS9xNPtG7NsAX9C5I0EUy-rn817dvzAYeeaAWlMM4l2gsazSBwsJkuWRxpbgTCqwUfCWcM0bhuBC-PjM9AUDgrm2iY9IWLpRvyfBQ/s1600-h/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDYUzCeskXyx-GM_3IRtShI9rp0ZeCqoJm2jB9AhS9xNPtG7NsAX9C5I0EUy-rn817dvzAYeeaAWlMM4l2gsazSBwsJkuWRxpbgTCqwUfCWcM0bhuBC-PjM9AUDgrm2iY9IWLpRvyfBQ/s320/006.JPG" /></a>But I thank them for their lies because it made me realize the truth. The fact is, in my heart I wanted give birth naturally, I just wasn't brave enough to make that declaration. Their encouraging (albeit non-truthful) words allowed me to be honest with myself. </div><br />
The nurses said that I'd forget the pain of giving birth over time. But I haven't and don't want to. The pain of labor and delivery is part of what I experienced on the day that we got to meet our daughter. It's a part of our history together. It'll always be with me.<br />
<br />
Since we're talking truthfulness, I feel obligated to be totally honest about something. Grace is the most beautiful, hilarious, smart 2-year-old you'll ever meet. <br />
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And that's no lie.<br />
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</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-59537471615090222992010-02-06T15:01:00.003-06:002010-02-06T19:21:07.536-06:00Less is MoreJay and I eat very different meals. And by that, I mean different from eachother, not different than what other couples and families ate, although it was likely that too. We knew that we would need eat as a family once we started having kids (or in our case, kid : ) For a long time I was hyper-obsessed with fat content and eating "healthy" foods. Jay ... well, he was pretty much the opposite. So, some of our usual meals would be me eating vegetable soup or a baked potato and him eating a multitude chicken tenders in buffalo wing sauce (many of them) with blue cheese dressing. Neither of our methods were model eating by any means. For the past few months, our meals have continued to differ, but with a purpose.<br /><br />Things have changed.<br /><br />Jay's been on weight managment program. He's eaten mostly shakes and oatmeal and nutrition bars for the past months. He's lost 70-some pounds since September. He's looking and feeling great. His motivation? Grace. She's so active that he wants to always be able to keep up with her, and be around for her too.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFwHzoKfasx3IZwAzA8pxkhWvXnqQBMwI9f4Clo6l1QRa3WL8hnVonc4_AIpEfVFRlxMre5ZXVKnWbrAMWTdoa-q9O2ZcfEzegZjKNGG5rij9BYiEuwSJxBxNugUreMl_pjt1mP8VBZM/s1600-h/Jay+golfing.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433391646063821314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFwHzoKfasx3IZwAzA8pxkhWvXnqQBMwI9f4Clo6l1QRa3WL8hnVonc4_AIpEfVFRlxMre5ZXVKnWbrAMWTdoa-q9O2ZcfEzegZjKNGG5rij9BYiEuwSJxBxNugUreMl_pjt1mP8VBZM/s320/Jay+golfing.png" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hosiquGRlQKIsC4SnyBQ0AYvbRkcDPj6AvvPsS6Ta0r3tdWwKKSmq8_iJxKuWfnvwwzKdWwybdYl-AoV2OdY9xbXN9OnCkE18YUT4oWLo7hOI3ZhlkxJgZgHxFXZ1IX9sEUGT47Inqg/s1600-h/013.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433391769230444402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hosiquGRlQKIsC4SnyBQ0AYvbRkcDPj6AvvPsS6Ta0r3tdWwKKSmq8_iJxKuWfnvwwzKdWwybdYl-AoV2OdY9xbXN9OnCkE18YUT4oWLo7hOI3ZhlkxJgZgHxFXZ1IX9sEUGT47Inqg/s320/013.jpg" /></a>Jay's done awesome. (Here's before and after pictures. He hasn't worn the soccer jersey since college. And he says it fits him better today than it did back then.)<br /><br />He hasn't whined or been grumpy about the diet. Not at all. And now he's eyeing fruits and vegetables Grace and I are having with interest. (Since I've been "cooking" for just Grace and I, I'm eating better than I ever did. Providing a balanced meal for Grace means a balanced meal for me too.)<br /><br />Let us not forget that this eating healthy shift has occurred in the land of cheese and beer. The fact that I'm not dragging Jay to Friday night fish frys every week might be to his advantage too : ) We've avoided having any snack temptations in the house which has been relatively easy. The things I snack on, dried fruit and granola bars, aren't things that tempt Jay in the least. The only item that I feel I sacrificed for him was a little thing called Jumbo Rice Krispies. Those things are good! So good that a box rarely lasts 24 hours in our house. Serious.<br /><br />At the time Jay started the program, we both happened to read the book <a href="http://mindlesseating.org/">Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think </a>(by Brian Wansink). A very, very interesting book that really gives insight into why we eat so much often without even knowing it. (Owning big dinner plates we feel like we need to fill with food -- mmm, pasta. Motivation to clean said plate -- don't want to waste any food! The convenience of not so healthy foods -- hello candy bar from Ms. Vending Machine. You get the picture.) Such obvious things, but things that are fixable without going on a diet-diet.<br /><br />We're looking ahead to healthy, tasty family meals (which we have realized is indeed possible) and enjoying some special treat meals (ahhh, McDonald's, you know we love you.<br /><br />Jay's also been working out regularly. While he's always been active (softball and volleyball in particular), it wasn't a regular part of his week. We are very much looking forward to family fitness (spring, where are you?). A handy Christmas gift -- Mr. Lawn Tractor -- will mean Jay spends less time mowing on weekends, and more time with Grace and I.<br /><br />Since Jay's made such a huge change in his life, I've given in on something I have protested for years. Jay wants us to go bicycling as a family. Sounds like a simple request, right? Well he happened to marry someone for whom the phrase "It's just like riding a bike." does not apply. I have had many bikes in my life, but for some reason I've never been very good at it. (Meaning, I get on the thing and fall over and bruise the heck out of myself.) So I balked at the idea of family bike riding -- until now. Inspired by Jay's dedication, I'm willing to give it a try again. As long as our bike trips don't lead to the McDonald's drive-thru, I think we're on the right track.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-32045215817402929502010-02-03T08:10:00.011-06:002010-02-03T08:47:49.495-06:00Making Up for "Lost" Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWhn70uoM2xHIYCOdf5mFVSZBsTzLAWPjM7RDA4oM3WYccXLGeGmBClCIKJIGefpYeX7HCrBz1bYsPw1fRrbNvf5EWbeNfse4MdueWitqi2BSLH_jj2PH3tfknDHbS7Ve_T3bfQ5t6VM/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434026596068644482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 129px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWhn70uoM2xHIYCOdf5mFVSZBsTzLAWPjM7RDA4oM3WYccXLGeGmBClCIKJIGefpYeX7HCrBz1bYsPw1fRrbNvf5EWbeNfse4MdueWitqi2BSLH_jj2PH3tfknDHbS7Ve_T3bfQ5t6VM/s200/images.jpg" border="0" /></a>I've never watched Lost. Ever. Not sure why or how that happened. Perhaps the show debuted when I was working on my dissertation so I felt that I didn't have time for another hour-long drama (we were already watching 24 among many other things). That was 2004 and now it's 2010. Lots has changed, but two things remain the same. Still working on the dissertation and still haven't watched Lost.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I'm told by a reputable source (Jay) that I'd really like the show. He didn't watch it right away either, but got caught up over the years. I remember catching glimpses every now and then, and asking him, "What the heck is going on?" I guess that's a common reaction to the show.</div><div><br />And now it's the last season. What are my options? I'm not one to watch television by myself, so I can't see myself catching up on the show over the next few months. Not to mention the lack of time I have when I get home (teaching an online course, developing another online course, working on the aforementioned dissertation and most importantly, being a mama and wife).<br /><br />Then, last night Jay mentioned that he DVR'd a pretty decent synopsis which provides the main gist of what's happened. After watching that, we'll watch the last season together.<br /><br />I know there'll be some haters out there, saying "You can't do that! We've invested years into this show and now you think you can just watch a Cliff Notes version and jump right in!?!"<br /><br />Yep. That's pretty much what I'm going to do. </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-84218207784782336442010-01-17T19:48:00.007-06:002010-01-28T15:36:53.244-06:00Boot-a-liscious<em>** I know I said I'd update this weekly, but visits to the ER, urgent care, a trip to Texas and the inability to avoid some deadlines, derailed me a bit. In order to make up for it I'm going to provide you with a three part story -- otherwise known as a trilogy. **</em><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>The Boot Trilogy</strong> </div><div align="left"><br /><strong>Part I:</strong> I have big calves. OK, disproportionate calves. I have size 6 feet and size more-than-6 calves. Not particularly a problem unless you want knee-high boots. I want knee-high boots, and have desired them for many, many years. Each winter (or late spring when lots of sales are tempting me), I try on at least three pairs of boots. Sometimes all at one store. Sometimes at many stores. Each year I'm disappointed. This has been going on for a number of<br />years. End of Part I. </div><br /><strong>Part II:</strong> I had not even intended to go shoe shopping, but I was waiting around in Kohl's while Jay was exchanging some items. Ah, a boot sale. Hmm, lets take a look. What's this? A pair of cool looking boots on sale for $45 (marked down 50%!). Let me try those on. So I plopped down. Unprepared for my endeavor I had on athletic socks and jeans. Not the best attire for trying on boots. But I gave it a try anyway. I slipped the first on to my right foot. Ziiiiiip. What?! It fits my foot and calf? Huh? What?! I was so excited I almost ran down to the exchange area one-booted to show Jay. First I wanted to try on the left one. So I slide my left foot in, and ziiiii ... hmm. Seems to be stuck mid-calf. Aha, there was a bit of string there that it must have been catching on -- tried it again ... ack! I took the boot off to test the zipper -- it slid up and down with ease. Ah, it's fixed. Back on my foot it goes. Here we go, slide the foot in and ziiiiii--iiii. Dang it!<br /><br />Since this process had taken quite awhile Jay had returned and repurchased some items and came over to the shoe section to find me red-faced and frustrated. He was impressed I had a boot on (he was, in fact, the one who helped me label my disproportionate calves phenomenon). I explained my dilemma and asked for his assistance. He started to help with the zipper. OWWWW. Not gonna work. So close.<br /><br /><br />Not only are my calves disproportionate to my feet, they're also disproportionate to each other. I didn't have big calves. Just big calf. I called it quits for boot shopping for the winter.<br /><br /><strong>Part III:</strong> A week later I half-heartedly went to the mini-department store in my hometown "mall" with Grace. The reason I call it a quote-mall-unquote is because when I was growing up one of its two anchors was a grocery store, in the mix with a few clothing stores, shoe store, Hallmark, Radio Shack, Maurices (where I ended up getting most of my clothes as a teen), and the place where I got my ears pierced. Ah, a jewelry store too. It also had a supper club type restaurant if I remember right. I'm likely missing something ... anyways. So I went there to take a look at some things for Grace and Jay and just perused the boots. I st<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zyklA3Y0tbVQYIi_-hnhASzMeQ4sfey9-lYOokaGplBHZX75UsSDu7wWimHMkOONOGEgG-Sw8dv9F-ox7NjtzrBJaNi5SrWLRlWWELGYmrjvD6Q6mGNMAt_DiMFgrss1mHqJVW5RKZ4/s1600-h/0121001539%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431903272081386226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zyklA3Y0tbVQYIi_-hnhASzMeQ4sfey9-lYOokaGplBHZX75UsSDu7wWimHMkOONOGEgG-Sw8dv9F-ox7NjtzrBJaNi5SrWLRlWWELGYmrjvD6Q6mGNMAt_DiMFgrss1mHqJVW5RKZ4/s320/0121001539%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a>rolled around a bit before I decided to try some on. I tried on the first pair, which fit! But I didn't like the way they looked and wasn't about to buy something just because it fit. After a few passes around the store, I tried on some more. I had Grace with and she was doing really well for an almost 2 year old. But she was on the edge of antsiness by the time I tried on the fourth boot. She'd been wandering around the shoe section playing with the foot sizer, repositioning that handy shoe mirror and pulling shoes off the rack to try some on herself. Still she was being good enough to let me concentrate on the task at hand. That said, nothing fit right and/or looked weird. I went back to the first style I tried on -- this time in black, hmmm. Ok, these fit, and you know, I kinda like them. They have two zippers. One regular zipper and the second for extended sizing, for women with "athletic calves" -- heee. So that's what I have. How nice of them to put it that way. This adjustable sizing was perfect. Who knows what my calves will do during the next few years? It's not likely they'll get any smaller. These boots were mine.<br /><br />At this point I've only worn the boots once and no one noticed, and why should they? Most people can wear boots without such a saga. The lack of hoopla over my new footwear is a fitting end to this trilogy. (Get it? Fitting end, because no boots fit me before, and now I have a pair that fits and it is the end of the story. See how that works? :)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-51540007626953202152010-01-06T10:50:00.007-06:002010-01-19T14:53:14.865-06:00New Edition<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eY0vDLgK52C7X3Cf6BC9a_MFcn9tEIkh8E2mL6Bwpxh1nePITiSXLY6x30eDwWz7Alm0hyphenhyphenSrgU0MqlEDq86YTxLdNVIRd9cHdSaMmRiINPUNKwunJNGYoLN2B_Kwps73LFGwBDCAi_Y/s1600-h/eded2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423709108210918066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eY0vDLgK52C7X3Cf6BC9a_MFcn9tEIkh8E2mL6Bwpxh1nePITiSXLY6x30eDwWz7Alm0hyphenhyphenSrgU0MqlEDq86YTxLdNVIRd9cHdSaMmRiINPUNKwunJNGYoLN2B_Kwps73LFGwBDCAi_Y/s400/eded2.jpg" border="0" /></a>Now that Grace is almost two we've decided to shift blog gears a bit. Of course, we'll still feature Grace's adventures (often co-starring Ella, her pug sidekick), but we start telling you a bit more about us grown ups too. Given the shift in focus I thought I'd also give the page a new look as well -- this will likely will be a work in progress. Right now it looks a bit like the Minneapolis Star Tribune masthead. You can take the journalist away from the newspaper, but can't take the newspaper away from the journalist ... or something. And to go with the newspaper theme, I'm going to do updates on a weekly basis. Can you tell I'm all about procrastinating other projects right now?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-886304861340245241.post-65274517456590653312009-11-02T08:57:00.008-06:002009-11-11T20:00:01.670-06:00The Good, the Bad and the FunnyAs all parents know, there are definite ups and downs in parenting, and sometimes the boundaries between/amongst these highs and lows are blurred.<br /><br /><strong>The Good/Bad:<br /></strong>No more ear infections for Grace! That's the good. We got ear tubes for Gracie and we had been told how great it would be. But that night and the 10 or so days after weren't so great. Grace would not go down to sleep without a fight, a screaming, shrieking fight. In fact I was going to write a blog post right around that time but thought better of it. To get a sense of the how we were doing, here is what I jotted down … "Usually our blogs are cute and clever … I just don't have the energy -- mentally or physically -- to be cute or clever right now. Actually the lack of sleep doesn't bother me. It's the lack of being able to figure out what's wrong.”<br /><br />While the tubes were ultimately a good thing, the timing might not have been the best. Grace had just gone through a big week of newness, as often happens in the life of a toddler. She had just transfered to a new room at day care, she attened her first Minnesota State Fair and had gone through her first (and hopefully, only) surgery. All that on top of exponential learn<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4eVMJmi0gxzllevU-fTCaE5rE_ra1mxLlI6dmXSCkAE3C0A4Bd5DdhzZEYNSahtUHmLsbW8QzfAyJb2Qxqnh7On4B3SEWgoeg71lgyt9ksZvGMYdwUMzecxMxj9oSVlYOLMTG98G-Ek/s1600-h/playin.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399520915693685234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4eVMJmi0gxzllevU-fTCaE5rE_ra1mxLlI6dmXSCkAE3C0A4Bd5DdhzZEYNSahtUHmLsbW8QzfAyJb2Qxqnh7On4B3SEWgoeg71lgyt9ksZvGMYdwUMzecxMxj9oSVlYOLMTG98G-Ek/s320/playin.JPG" /></a>ing and development and making of connections. Some of those connections might have been part of the sleeping problem, and thus, part of our sleeping solution. Grace had made friends with all of her stuffed animals (all of which she called “babies”). Her room was pretty well stocked with these babies and at night she’d often stand in her crib and sob, saying, “babies, babies, babies.” One night we decided to remove these distractions and that happened to be the night when we got our good sleeper back. This was just in time for her first trip to Grandma and Grandpa Gorman’s cabin. As you can see in the photo she was always in motion. Days filled with playing in the sand on the beach and watching a friendly squirrel made for an exhausted Gracie -- not to mention a well rested mommy and daddy too.<br /><br /><strong>The Funny:<br /></strong>So, the more words Grace can say, the funnier she gets. And sometimes what she says isn’t as funny as how she says it –- we’ll that and the fact that Jay and I hear Gracie's funniness in ways many others might not. For example, Grace is finally saying “Mama.” When she says it, it is often in that tone that sounds similar to part of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, you know where it talks about killing a man and how life has just begun … OoooOoooO. So sometimes an exclamation of "Mama!" can start off a Edenborg household mini-karaoke session.<br /><br />Another word she says a lot, a lot is “colors.” She’s got a book she can color in and a magnetic board that she “colors” on. So she’ll often walk around repeatedly requesting to partake in the activity by exclaiming “colors.” So it happens that there is an rap song called Colors, where part of the background is the rapper saying “Colors” in a repetitious manner. So sometimes this leads to a bit of an Edenborg freestyle rap session. Such amazing creativity that Grace inspires!<br /><br />Now, I’m not comparing our daughter is Freddie Mercury or Ice T, but she sometimes demonstrates a vocal range (at least the high-pitched notes) of the former and the beat-box ability (accompanied by some spittle) of the latter.<br /><br />So, these days we're back to normal, albeit a new normal. But who knows, by tomorrow I might be singing a new tune.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00299082734930816091noreply@blogger.com1