It's morning and the sun is streaming through the windows as I write this. Little wisps of steam are floating over my coffee and the delicious scents of breakfast cooking are wafting through the air...
A little too "I'm writing from Paris" for ya?
Yeah...
I am sitting here using The Therapist's laptop to say a quick hello. I arrived in Austin last night for what has been a fabulous reunion.
The funny thing, dear reader, is that I wasn't even nervous about it. I kept waiting for the nerves to kick in and the butterflies to start their engines, but there was calm the entire time.
I made it to Austin in record time as well. An hour and a half from Boerne to The Therapist's house. Ironically he only lives about 5 blocks away from Snakeman so I kinda knew where I was going.
And I have to give some props to the Austin drivers who manage to haul ass AND not be idiots. A rare and appreciated thing amongst fellow drivers.
So, because I made such stellar time, The Therapist was still at his dads house when I pulled up to his apartment. No sweat, called Snow for a chat because as you know (If you read her blog and you SHOULD read her blog. Often.) she has cool guy stuff going on right now and I wanted my effing update.
And then, as she wrapped up her cunning plan to get The Viking naked, a car pulled up in front of me and slowed down and there he was.
He parked and I walked over and got hugged in a way that I haven't been hugged in a very long time.
[I have to stop for a moment here and just say that The Therapist, I believe, is a little uneasy as he watches me type this from the kitchen. So I am going to cut this short and go hang out with him so he doesn't think I am trashing him on my blog, lol.]
So, short story is that we barely slept, pulled out old yearbooks and reminisced until the VERY wee hours of the morning. Ruthie stopped by with her dude (who I think we dig) for a few minutes and we watched Nip Tuck (which I had never seen before and OMG - gross! there was this lady who's dog bit. off. her. nipple!! You know why?? You don't want to know why!! But I have to tell you because now I know why and it's too awful to keep to myself. She was totally having "sex" with her dog! She was putting peanut butter everywhere for the dog to lick off and well he just got too fucking happy and bit her fucking nipple off! Yuck!) and basically got reacquainted as grown ups. And it's weird for me because the last time I saw The Therapist, he was 17-18 and now he is 29 and its very surreal to sit next to someone and realize the last time you sat with them you were little more than a child.
He is awesome though. And I am having a fabulous time.
AND I am being rude so I am going to hit post and get off of here and go be not rude :)
Hope you guys are all having a great weekend :)

Hey there ya'll.
I'm still here...
And to be perfectly honest with you, part of the reason for my absence is that I have a lot going on but I can't blog about any of it on account of how many people who know me in real life actually know about my blog.
So, let's talk of other things...
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
Yeah, I know, random... It's the drugs.
So, this weekend is my weekend to reunite with The Therapist and short of having NO idea what I am going to wear (and a half a million other insane paranoia's), I am really excited about it.
I would be more excited if I didn't have a sore throat and feel as though I am on the cusp of being sick.
No worries though since I am fighting that little bug with Aleve Cold & Sinus and a double shot of NyQuil in the evenings.
Why?
Because NyQuil rocks.
So what can we talk about?
There is always Grey's Anatomy? No?
Yeah, I understand. It's been done...
However, there are a slew of new shows that I TIVOed last week that I can tell you about?
You know, if you are REALLY FUCKING BORED.

SMITH
This is very Ocean's Eleven.. only in a made-for-tv kind of way.
You're almost mad at them for trying to cram a movie into 40 minutes (on account of commercials).
The gist of it is that the main character has his band of like 5 or 6 peeps who help him pull of these big heists. Or so one would assume. If you have seen the first episode (which aired last week), then you would know that they seriously fouled it up. They didn't get all the paintings that they were trying to steal AND one of the guys died.
Not an overly stellar way to start off a show.
However, there is all the underlying drama of the characters because unlike Ocean's Eleven, you are able to stick your characters with story lines as well that can carry on through several more episodes. So, "Smith's" wife is constantly acting as though she knows what her husband is up to AND at the end of the episode she is with her probation officer discussing her drug problem and how long she has been clean. The guy who died? Yeah well his wife was telling another guy how she wished she had married him instead... so, you know, little pieces of drama to look forward to later.
If I had to rate it here on LOC, I would wait a few more weeks before giving you a for sure answer, but based on the first episode, I would say...
It's worth recording so you have something to watch on the weekend but you would have a hard time deciding whether to watch Smith or the Cake Decorating Competition on The Food network.

6 DEGREES
Ok, first of all, you can watch this first episode on abc.com right now, if you feel so inclined.
You're going to think i am an idiot but the meaning of the name for this show completely eluded me initially and it wasn't until I actually watched it and the main dude (who narrates) started off on his little tirade: There is a theory that anyone on the planet is connected to any other person through a chain of six people...
So, then it hits me... HOLY SHIT! Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon!
(Which I have ALWAYS been really awful at playing... I'm not sure why. Probably because the only two movies I've ever actually watched that had Kevin Bacon in them were the one where he is invisible and Foot Loose and I don't remember any of the other actors.... except in the invisible one he was in the movie with the chic that played the babysitter AND the girl with the heart problem with Val Kilmer in The Saint... which is a really good movie, btw)
So, I liked this show and NOT just because I have to TIVO it to see the end of Grey's Anatomy either. The characters were good, there are enough of them to keep you busy and the end of the show? Wow. Go, watch it. Tell me what you think.
I liked it enough that it would totally win out over the Cake Decorating Competition on The Food Network.

JERICHO
I am still trying to decide on Jericho. You see, they won my heart right away with the music. Which, I of course, can't remember ANY of right now, but trust me AWESOME music.
The show is basically about this guy who comes home to have his dad sign over his inheritance money. He has been gone for like five years (very Grosse Point Blank) and is telling every one different reasons for his absence so we really don't know what is going on, but his mom does. Also, his dad tells him no. So he loads up into his HOT ASS car and leaves to go back to California and then gets into an accident when he is looking at the giant mushroom cloud off in the distance.
The show is about the whole town, which is small and isolated, and the high probability that the USA has been bombed and is going to war.
I am still up in the air about this one as well.
I would rate it the last thing I would watch if I had a bunch of shows TIVOed.

STUDIO 60
Ok, last one because I need to get to work.
let me just say, I don't think I have ever seen so many stars on a pilot of ANYTHING, ever.
ABC has high hopes for this show and I have to say that I agree with them. It is basically, what I would equate to a show about Saturday Night Live.
It's about the actors and producers and all the other folks behind the scenes making the show happen. I don't really understand it yet, but I do like it :) It's fast paced and witty and intriguing. Matthew Perry, as usual, kicks ass. (We love him.) And Amanda Peet is also kicking a fair amount of ass.
Anyway, I like it. I think you should watch it.
And as far as rating it... I would watch this show before I would watch the actual Saturday Night Live.

Ok kiddies, back to work. That's all for the TV reviews here on LOC.

You see, dear reader, I was doomed from the beginning.
Observe: my first kiss...



How in the world was I supposed to make good decisions when this was my first "taste" of love?

But check your girl out, tongue and everything ;)

So, as many of you already know, I have to have the transmission replaced on the Montana a few weeks ago... which wasn't a horribly scarring ordeal on account of it being covered by the warranty and all. However, because the Montana broke down at all, I can no longer trust it. I feel like I have been cheated on by my spouse and now I can try to see past his faults and rekindle the once shaky but somewhat stable relationship we once shared but I know things will never be the same. I will always wonder why the heat gauge is climbing up or if I just heard a noise, did the van just jerk a little to one side or was that just the wind?
And who can live like that?
I can no longer look through the eyes of someone who has settled for less than what she really wanted and accepted that.
Nope.
Now, I am starting to look at other cars and better possibilities and lusting after that ride with the really good gas mileage. And I'm not doing it in that innocent "you can look but not touch" way, no sir. I am doing it in an "oooh baby, I want you, take me now" way.
And what's worse is that the Montana hasn't just caused me to lose hope in IT... no, no, no, no, no... It has practically pushed me to "the other side". I don't just want another car, I want a completely DIFFERENT one. I want to unload the mini van on the first person who will take it off of my hands and then I want to start playing for another team... like The Wagon Team or The Mid Sized Sedan Team or even The Scion Team.
And the thing is, I can almost understand where the Montana is coming from. I get it's anger. Because, you see, it always really hoped it would have a stay at home, soccer practice, cookie baking mom that would enjoy loading it up with a whole troop of Brownie Girl Scouts and taking road trips. And let's be real here, that sure as fuck isn't me... so I can definitely appreciate the reasons behind it's unhappiness and I want to send the Montana off into Happy Relationship Land, to a mom who will truly appreciate it for all of it's head room and storage space and ability to cram ninety million kids into it. It shouldn't be with me, someone who gripes about how the dvd screen isn't big enough and complains that I could be getting better gas mileage from a smaller more attrative car.
I mean, I've practically sent the Montana to the couch with a bucket of ice cream and a box of tissues.
So of course it is acting up on me. It's resentful.
At any rate, I am once again car shopping. I have about three thousand miles before my warranty expires and I will have another car before that happens. And this time, it doesn't have to seat seven... so, dear readers, send me your wisdom. Help make 2006 the year that I bought more cars than any sane person would buy ;)
What should I buy this time?

When you wake up and the chorus of the following song is stuck in your head, should you take it as a sign?
It's hard not to read into something as strongly spoken as this:
I've got this post dramatic thing
I've got this tattoo of a ring that lies
around my wedding finger and thats where I want to state this claim.
That I've got to learn to live and dream
before I go and get myself in love.


The Answer - Blue October

If I can't crawl inside of you,
I'm laughing with a broken face
I stumble across my self esteem.
But to picture the pleasure is making me want my space.

Understand...
that God wrapped you like a bow.
But in my head...
There's some shelves that need cleaning,
from basement to ceiling, control.

If what you're seeing is an open book,
thats great 'cuz I'm an open book.
But I'm real shy.

There's a part of me seeking and desperatly needing
to open up.
That's strange 'cuz I'm an open book,
a confused boy.

I'm an automatic steeple for depressed and lonely people.
My heart while in its cage, is used to give and not
receive a thing,
But the only funny thing is that I dont know how to give myself advice.

I've got this post dramatic thing
I've got this tattoo of a ring that lies
around my wedding finger and thats where I want to state this claim.
That I've got to learn to live and dream
before I go and get myself in love.

In love.

Theres Zoloft, Welbutrin, theres Paxil thats proven,
no side effects.
But the rest left unnamed 'cuz they worked like a charm on me.

But when your savings is drying,
you can't stop from crying
you've got to suck it up.
You're not her buttercup,
you're not her favorite book.

I am reading this fantastic book right now and I have to admit it is the reason I haven't been online much.
In the entire time I have been a mother, I have had very few moments of serious self doubt in myself and my ability to be a kick ass mom. This is partly because the bar was set so low in my own childhood and I can't help but try to over compensate for the lack of happiness I grew up with... but it is mostly because I love being a mom. I love it with every fiber of my being, every inch of my soul is made lighter by simply looking at one of my children.
But in the last few months, Amanda has started to change. She has stopped being this really happy kid that I am used to having around and has turned into an almost unhappy kid.
And I have no idea why.
And this has never happened before.
When I talk to other moms about this, they just give me this "oh you thought you weren't going to go through this fucked up thing called 'teenager' didn't ya?" Because apparently, we mothers as a whole, have given up on our kids once their hormones kick in. We've abandoned any thoughts that this is something that doesn't have to be awful and readied ourselves to succumb to their moods and just kiss normalcy goodbye. Even before they are close to that age, we've thrown in the towel I have even done it. I have rolled my eyes and said, "I have no idea what I am going to do when they become teens!"
Why?
Because all the mothers I have ever known have left me with the belief that I am fucked. There is no cure for Teenager, there is no hope in avoiding it. Your child will go through puberty and GOD HELP YOU when that happens.
You basically just need to buckle up and hold on like your life depends on it.
Everything about this miserable, bitchy, sneaky little shit head that used to be your kid is going to try your sanity and your belief that you ever had an adorable sweet angel that held your hand when you crossed a road because you made them feel safe.
With that in mind, I look at Amanda, who isn't even ten years old yet, and I want to burst into tears. I want to grab her and hold her to me and beg her not to grow up. PLEASE just stay this little person I love. I want to fix this all before it is broken. And I have no fucking idea how to or who to ask for help. No one seems to believe that there is even a cure, that there is even a glimmer of hope of a cure. We have all just accepted this state of fuckedness as the norm.
So, this weekend, while I was at The Cake Lady's house sitting in the grass at some insane late hour, I drained my glass of wine and decided I had to admit that I had fallen into some foreign place and needed some help, any help. And then, this woman I respect more than any other mother I know gave me that look.
She gave me the "you're fucked" look.
And I wanted to just cry.
Because she can't believe it too! She can't possibly believe that there is no hope for puberty! I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that she is one of those women who is going to throw in the towel. Not her. Not her and not me!
So we are sitting there discussing the intricacies of motherhood and the possible solutions for how we are going to survive the next ten years and fondly reminiscing about the "good old days" when diapers and wall socket covers were the hardest part of being a mom.
Fuck, give me a screaming infant at three in the morning any day over that look Amanda has had on her face for the last week.
Then The Cake Lady got up and went into the house and came out with a book.

Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety by Judith Warner.

From the back cover: This book is an exploration of a feeling. That caught-by-the-throat feeling so many mothers have today of always doing something wrong. And it's about a conviction I have that this feeling --this widespread, choking cocktail of guilt and anxiety and resentment and regret -- is poisoning motherhood for American women today. Lowering our horizons and limiting our minds. Sapping energy that we should have for ourselves and our children. And drowning out thoughts that might lead us, collectively, to formulate solutions.
The feeling has many faces, but it doesn't really have a name. It's not depression. It's not oppression. It's a mix of things, a kind of too-muchness. And existential discomfort. A mess.

And my mouth is just hanging open.
You mean, they have BOOKS for this????
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

So needless to say, I have been rather engulfed in reading this book.
And it has been a nice way to spend my time.

Another excerpt:
The women around me, for the most part, lived in affluent suburban Washington communities. They had comfortable homes, two or three children, smiling, productive husbands, and a society around them saying they'd made the best possible choices for their lives, yet many of them seemed just miserable. One woman told me she'd lost all interest in sex with her husband... Another mom complained of spending her weekends in her car shuttling between soccer and swim meets and birthday parties. And another had taken up the politics of play dates as an issue in therapy."

The politics of play dates as an issue in therapy.
Oh man.
But this is all so true.
But the thing I love about this book is how it seems to be trying to quash these feelings of inadequacy that we all walk around with at some point in our experience as parents, as mothers. And since I am so very new to this feeling, I am so glad to see that I am not the only who wants to fight it and who thinks it is a fight I could win.
So, dear reader, bear with me this week while I read this book and try to find some sanity in this new crazy turn in my motherhood.

Several times in the last few days, some one has asked me that. Sadly, I am not sportin' a kick ass answer as I've really not been up to much. So, this should be a fairly short update post :)

1. JOB: Job is good. Moto bene! For those of you who missed it when I briefly mentioned it before, I am doing purchasing for an aquatic distribution company. I am also, much to my disbelief, in charge of all of our IT stuff. Now, those of you who know me (and have called/emailed/stopped by so I could fix your computer) know that I am "handy" with a PC. I can usually help you out with your minorish (28th official word created on LOC) stuff. So when my boss said that she wanted to let our IT guy focus strictly on sales and have me take over the day to day IT upkeep, I thought hey, no problem, I've done this before... and then I saw the whole office full of Macs and thought oh, fuck me running... I've never even used a Mac!
Last week, I installed our new Mac server on our hybrid network :)
Awwww yeah.
Anyway, the job rocks. I really like it. Having been in sales at Fantasy Disco Ford for three years, it is cool as shit to not have to try and sell people stuff. They want to buy it! So when I get a phone call from someone who just wants to place an order it is a helluva lot easier than when I used to have to con people out of their phone numbers. I am really digging everyone I work with too which is amazing. There are less than ten of us in the whole company and I actually like everyone! What are the odds?
Oh and come on! The whole behind the scenes at Sea World thing? FUCKING RAD.

2. KIDS: Kids are cool. School has been in full swing for almost a month. Triniti was riding the bus for the first few days but then suddenly decided that the bus sucked big hairy ones. She and I were standing outside on the third day of school waiting for the bus to pull up and when it did she let go of my hand and ran at full speed to the house, slamming the door behind her. I of course am standing in front of the school bus feeling much like someone who's date had just bailed out the bathroom window. I've tried much bribing/threatening but to no avail. So, my new morning routine does involve me cruising from the house to the school which adds about 15 minutes worth of driving to my day. The fucked up thing? Trin has NO problem at all riding the bus in the afternoons. In fact, when I pick her up from daycare she is so effing jazzed about it that she pleads with me to let her ride the bus again. But in the morning, she'd rather be burned alive than get on that damn bus.
Emilee is doing wonderfully with her grades. When she gets home on Thursday, she will proudly exclaim, "Here's my folder Mommy and there isn't one paper under ninety in the WHOLE thing!" And there isn't. However, she is clearly already bored since her behavior folder has had no less than two marks a week in it. We've had this problem every year since kindergarten. She can't help herself and she ends up getting marks for talking or not listening but her report card will be straigh A's. Last year I really think she would have done well if they had bumped her up but I won't be pushing for that this year since we didn't do as much advanced stuff over the summer. She wants to sign up for everything. Cheerleading, 4H, soccer, football, choir... everything! Which I think is just another sign that she isn't feeling fulfilled with school alone. But it is still very early in the year and she takes the TAKS test this year so hopefully she will start to feel busier soon.
Amanda... man, my poor fanciulla. She is having a rough time right now. Her and Camille are in different classes for the first time ever and she is really upset about that. And to top that off, the little dude she has had a crush/friendship with for the last year or two is moving. Apparently his house burned down over the summer and he didn't come to school this year when it started. Amanda heard through the grapevine that he is moving to Utah to live with his mom. She came home, after hearing the news, and cried for an hour in her bed. Her grades aren't bad but we are certainly seeing some grades this year that have NEVER come home with my kids before... I can tell she is getting stressed out because she is cranky almost every day so I've put off signing the girls back up for gymnastics until October. I'm hoping that everything in her world will smooth out here in the upcoming weeks.

3. CAR MINI-VAN: Picked up my ride from the shop yesterday. She is running so wonderfully, it's like having a new new car. Amazing what a new transmission can do for ya! And to think, the whole time I had the ride I totally felt sorry for mini-van owners everywhere. I thought that they must hate driving these beasts on account of how jerky and weird they are. Now, it's like driving a completely different vehicle. And THANK GOODNESS for factory warranties. I had to cough up fifteen bucks because when I brought her in, there was nary a drop of gas in her (because I was too fucking scared to take it to a gas station on account of how it wouldn't switch gears and all). Now, it's just a smooth ride. You can't even tell it is switching gears! Of course, the greasy mechanics left dust and dirty finger prints so I had to armor-all the interior last night but other than that, totally awesome! Which is cool because....

4. THE THERAPIST: I have such a hard time trying to convey how truly fucking awesome it has been to reunite with The Therapist. We have spoken several times now and once we get going, boy do we have a hard time getting off of the phone! After the initial call that lasted six. hours. I still wanted to call the boy up the next day and just keep talking. It's probably on account of having so much to catch up on. And I can't even begin to explain how truly wonderful it is to be able to jump back into such a great friendship. I keep going over and over in my mind trying to remember how it was that we lost each other in the first place. I can't seem to get a full grasp on it so I have to chalk it up to my leaving town after I got pregnant with Amanda and never really looking back. Just in the time that I have spent talking to The Therapist, I have been reminded of so many things that I must have just blocked out about my childhood/teenaged years. So I think when I left there and started My Own Life, I left it all behind and so very sadly him as well.
But, that is all in the past.
Because we have plans for me to drive up to Austin and spend an entire weekend with him on the 29th. We are going to hang out and he can tell me all of the things he has been wanting to tell me on the phone but has instead said, "Kate, it's too long of a story, I'm saving it for when you are here."

5. MY WEEKEND: Tonight I am FINALLY going to get to use the tickets I bought like four months ago! Ruthie and I are going to see Brian Regan in San Antonio. I am way psyched about it and the only way I would be MORE psyched is if he were going on one hour earlier so I could leave afterwards and go see The Goo Goo Dolls... but, no Goo Goo Dolls for this chic, I will have to see them the next time they are here. Tomorrow I am planning to meet up with someone I have been friends with for a few years... she is flying in from California for work and will be in town for the next few days so we have plans to get our kids together tomorrow to hang out. AND this weekend is the infamous September Party. Remember last year? Oh come on! There were like two painful hours of listening to THAT guy talk about his ex! I was fantasizing about poking his eyes out for the first hour, the second hour it was my own eyes. JUST MAKE IT STOP! Anyway, yeah. That party is this weekend as well. So, busy busy busy :)

ps. The word of the day is:
Italian: dubbio
English: doubt
Sign up for your word a day here.

From todays post:

"...I had no idea that you would continue to become more charming, more adorable, more full of surprises. At this age you are like Christmas every morning, always saying something wildly outrageous, often breaking into song in the oddest places, and now my friend tells me that when I talk about parenthood it sounds like an instrument I’ve been playing all my life. I like to think that I feel better about this because I am better at this, but I know it’s mostly because you are the most amazing person I have ever known. Whenever I talk about you to other people, whenever they ask me how I’m doing with this, I’m not sure I can adequately communicate just how lucky I am to know you."

Maybe you don't read Dooce, which is INSANE by the way, but it never fails that when I read something she has written about being a mom, I feel so moved. Reading that last paragraph, I broke out in chill bumps.
She has such an honest and raw way of expressing everything wonderful about being a mom and even everything NOT wonderful that is still wonderful just because it is a part of motherhood.

So, since so many of you decided to write/call/comment about my "outfit" in the post below, as if my fashion decisions in the nineties could REALLY be held against me! But since you did, let us stroll through the photo album from which that particular photo came from.
Let us cruise through all of my awkward stages and bring to the surface all of the wonderful memories I have of being a redheaded and freckled faced girl with frizzy hair.

It all started off rather innocently.
Look at me...

Totally cute. My hair is all tame and I have on your typical little girl shirt of the eighties (which my mother has buttoned all the way to the top). People every where could ooohhh and ahhhh over how adorable I was and say things like "she could be so pretty when she is older" without ever having to cross their fingers.

This is the picture where you can start to see that my hair has a mind of its own.

It is just all taking off on one side like someone rubbed a balloon on it for a good ten minutes. And notice the pink dalmations outfit that could ONLY be bought for you by a grandmother.

Here is where we meet my teeth.

Oh yeah, lovely huh? Nothing like two big ass teeth sticking out at you. It was like they were trying to get away from each other. And there I was, all oblivious and just smiling with my mouth wide open so all the world could try to kick field goals between my buck teeth.

You can see in this picture that the freckles have declared ownership of my face.

And the fucked up thing is I remember being so very excited about taking this picture because I got to pick the color of the background. And not just that but the BLINDS in the background. Oh how effing cool we thought those colored blinds were. They were exciting enough that when I got this picture at the awkward age of tenish, I barely noticed the gaping hole in my front teeth.

Oh man, the tie dye and the cowboy hat, paired together.

As if I needed to give the world another reason to glance strangely my way. The obvious chunkiness that comes with puberty had taken over my neck and formed it into a lovely double chin. I remembered chopping my hair off since I had given up on every being able to do anything with it.

I don't even have anything for this one.

I just remember that we were doing yardwork and I threw a rock over my shoulder and it stuck in the tree and stayed there the entire time we lived in Hawaii.

I fucking love this shirt.

The BALLS I had to wear this, in public AND for a school picture. Note the scrunchie on the top of my head holding my unruly hair out of my face. At least I had finally started smiling with my mouth closed.

Notice the complete loss of hope here.

I had given up on trying to look like a normal person. My hair was frizzy and red no matter what I did and I had developed a nice little pooch belly. No matter how I smiled there was a double chin, so why smile?

Holy fucking ugly shirt batman!

Oh my god. Look at it.
It's just wrong.
The hair, the freckley pale skin, the UGLY striped shirt with the pink collar and just a hint of blue pocket!
You know there were some portrait people just laughing there asses off as they packaged this for my mother.

Welcome to the first picture in The Flannel Set.

Sometime in the early nineties, flannel suddenly became crazy popular. Which was exceptionally brutal to those of us who were teens and living in South Texas. But we suffered so we could just like every one else. My closet was FULL of flannel shirts which I proudly wore in the 100+ degree weather.

Flannel #2. Otherwise known as: the last one with the double chin.

My freshman picture in highschool. I had finally learned how to mellow my hair out and wear some makeup that didn't make me look like a hooker, but no matter how high I held my head, the chins were still there. You can see I was just starting to show my teeth again, not that they had become friends and stopped trying to run to separate sides of my mouth.

Flannel #3. Otherwise known as: The girl with the bushy hair.

I just know I was melting in that outfit. Jeans and a flannel and I'm sure this was like July. (You can tell because my hair is HUGE.)

Flannel #4. Otherwise known as: The girl with only one chin.

This is a picture of me and a girl I worked with when I was like 14. Notice: smiling with all my teeth and only one chin. Plus this was at a time when I used to mute the ever loving hell out of my freckles with concealer.

Yeah, I didn't do ANY drugs in high school.

This is the picture that had Amanda saying, "were you in jail Mommy?"

And finally, my sophomore photo.

Probably the only picture of myself that I liked for a LONG time.

So there you go, dear reader, all the pictures I have of my childhood.
All the frizzy hair and freckles and squinty eyed, buck toothed Kate you can handle. That picture below barely registers now, huh?
I have just given you all the blackmail photos you could ever dream of having :P

I know, a few months ago when I joined myspace, the vast majority of you rolled your eyes.
Oh whatever. I could hear the collective eye rolling all the way down here in south Texas.
A few of you emailed me and secretly confessed that you had also considered joining but *gasp* "what would people say?"
And I get that because myspace is so the quintessential teenager hot spot. It is riddled with all the same shit we used to hide from our parents when we were that age. The difference was that we had to actually converse with people living in the same zip code as us and we would have never so publicly displayed what we were doing wrong. (You know, back in the day when we had to walk to school in the snow, uphill and barefoot...)
But also, those of us who take blogging as seriously as you can really take blogging are appalled by the html abuse on myspace. There is a disgusting overuse of graphics and because of it, I am very hesitant to even open pages. I hate waiting thirty goddamn minutes because you needed to run video on the sloppiest conglomeration of beer ads and scrolling half naked chics I have ever seen.
I mean, come on! People of myspace, I IMPLORE you. Please, clean it up. It's your space. Make it pretty and shit.
Anyway, I am tirad-ing here ["tirad-ing" is officially the 27th word created here on LOC, for those of you keeping track].
The intention of this post was NOT to bitch about myspace but rather to toss them a few accolades.
Ya'll remember a few months ago when I went to Dallas for my grandmother's birthday party? During that trip I was reunited with my best friend from the fourth and fifth grade, someone I had kept in contact with when I moved to Hawaii and who I was so very bummed I had lost touch with when the house burned down. She and I found each other on myspace literally a month after I had joined. This was such a wonderful experience for me. To be able to hang out with someone I was so close to thirteen years ago. It was unbelievable.
I have since been inundated with people I knew from high school sending me little "oh my god, is that really you?" emails. This is usually followed by a few catch up emails or a phone call to save the fingers cramping up and then we realize we have even less in common now than we did in high school so we respectively part ways.
But I didn't abandon the myspace because it had already been so very good to me in helping me find Naki. So, instead, I just check my messages on there about once every couple of weeks to see if anyone has contacted me. A week ago, after having deleted all the junk mail or the "you're hott, wanna chat?" emails, there was an email from a girl that I knew in high school.
She and I were never friends for reasons I don't remember now, so many years later. But she had written me nonetheless. Her email said a very brief hello followed by a mention of someone I had been very good friend with when I was in high school. Someone whom I hadn't spoken to in about ten years. She said he had asked about me and she wanted to know if I would like his number.
Honestly, I started to reply that I didn't remember who that person was but then, as I was typing those very words the memory smacked me hard and I remembered EXACTLY who he was and ohmygod YES I want his phone number.
But even then, I had no idea how much my brain was holding back. I hadn't even begun to dust off the memories I had with him.
Last night, when I got my computer back online, one of the very first things I did was check my myspace messages. And there was his number.
And man did I hesitate.
I mean, what was I going to say to this guy I just barely remember?
Plus it was ten o'clock... what if it was too late to be calling?
But then I just said "fuck it" as I frequently do and picked up the phone.
He answered on the third ring obviously not having the faintest idea who I was.
Which was practically laughable a few hours later when we were immersed in conversations about things I had completely forgotten about.
It was a helluva memory jog.
I am trying to think of a name for him here because I am sure I will be writing about him again so we will need a name...
I hate to be cliché and name everyone after what they do but I think I am going to anyway. We will call him The Therapist. Partially because that is what he does and partially because I felt like I had several hours of straight up therapy last night very early this morning when hung up with him.
It was amazing to reconnect with someone who was actually important to me all those years ago. I mean I talk to or hear about people pretty regularly that are from my past and I file away the information but I don't really feel intrigued. Last night was such a rush to be able to rehash all of these things that had happened a lifetime ago. The Therapist wasn't just someone who I was friends with and someone who was important to me, he was also someone I confided in and he was able to bring up things that I had long forgotten about. It was like the ten years had been just a few days and we were picking up right where we had left off.
It was just a truly rad thing.
And to think that he and I missed out on the last ten years of this. Of being friends of having all of this history and the connection.
I feel like we were gypped.
Six hours.
That is how long we talked people. Six. Hours.
And I don't anticipate this being a one time thing by any means since he happens to live in Austin which is just two hours from me. There are plans in the making for me to make the drive up there for a weekend so that we can do that whole six hours of chatter thing in person :) With wine.

So, I have to say it. I have to give myspace some props.
I happen to owe not one, but two very important reunions to myspace.

I've managed to maintain some semblance of my sanity through my sneaky little forays onto the net while "working".
Some.
The fact is that the upcoming weekend, while wondrous with all the free time, has me rather frightened that I will look like Leonardo DiCaprio did in The Basketball Diaries by Sunday night. And I just don't want the equivalent of the boy on boy BJs in the public bathroom for money thing because I can't turn on my computer.
I've toyed with the idea of making a mad dash to Neighboring Town for some help this evening and it is a tempting thought.... The idea that I could be checking email again with ease and uploading the two hundred pictures I have on my camera right now has my eyes rolling back into their sockets.
Right now, my tower is strapped in the back seat with a seat belt waiting my decision on it's fate.
Now let me lay out for you what I would have to do this afternoon if I DIDN'T take my computer to the Computer Dude.
1. Leave work.
2. Drive to town where Fantasy Disco Ford is and buy groceries.
3. Go home.
4. Meet The Consultant for many beers.
This is about 40 miles worth of driving total.

Now, if I go to Computer Dude's pad, it will be more like this:
1. Leave work.
2. Drive to town where Fantasy Disco Ford is and buy groceries.
3. Back tack twenty miles.
4. Drive to Computer Dudes pad.
5. Go home.
6. Meet The Consultant for many beers.
This is about a hundred miles total.

This wouldn't even be an issue except for that I have like 1/4 tank of gas and I have no money and my debit card expired yesterday. So, I am in Super Stealth Check Writing Mode. Which is cool if I go shop and THEN take the pc over to Computer Dude... but that involves like 20 miles of back tracking just so I can buy gas before I go. And I LOATHE and ABHOR backtracking in a time where gas is three bucks a gallon. I could, of course, wait and do this on Sunday since it is the same amount of driving either way but OMFG. SUNDAY? That is far away.
Plus I have Friday Brain.
And Friday Brain doesn't want to cruise around for a hundred miles even though Saturday Brain will want to check my FUCKING EMAIL.
I'm at a cross roads...
In hell.
But I am staring a lovely three day weekend right in the face. One that starts with beer and pool and then trickles over into BBQing with The Cake Lady and Jimmy. So, if you don't see me online this weekend, it's because my Friday Brain beat the ever loving crap out of my Saturday Brain.