Satellite Location

This blog is coming to you from a

satellite location...

the Ford Service waiting room.

Now  that the kids are out of the house

and  have released their clutch on our Ford Escape...

I've decided to take care of our depreciating investment.

I've made it a priority to bring the car in for regular checkups....

so it doesn't come down with 

coughing jags and pipe blockage. 

We all need a good pipe cleaning once in a while.

Anywhoooooo.................

I'm waiting for the car while the service people

kick the tires and look under the hood. 

It shouldn't take all day. 

It's not like I asked them to freakin' rotate planet EARTH. 

So here I sit...

in a newly appointed waiting room...

watching a large flat screen tv, 

blogging on their wireless internet, 

and making coffee with their konvenient Kuerig. 

The experience is so  pleasant...

that I'm thinking of making it a regular morning pit stop.

And I would ....

but for other people

who this time...happen to be 5 men.  

Don't get me wrong

these men seem like nice folks,

but it has become very uncomfortable sitting here with them...

while the "news" program on the television discusses

(on volume level 20) 

"Embarrassing Health Questions." 

And for some reason, these men seem very  interested in

gas, body odor, and toenail fungus.

Oh, crap.....

things have just gone from bad to worse...

the teaser for the upcoming segment...

"Stay Tuned...

5 Ways to spice up your sex life"

Get me OUTTA Here.

My car may be built FORD tough,

but this Kat can't take it.

Helicopter Parent Trap

What’s that sound you hear?

Why, that’s the sound of a helicopter…
parent.

You know....

the hovering parent…
standing guard to pull any nasty weeds

encroaching upon Junior’s path of life.

That’s when the helicopter parent swooshes down

and gets Junior back on the

the rosy path.

Let’s face it…we’re from a generation that has coddled our children. 

We have obsessed over where our kids go to pre-school,

what teams they make,

what teachers they get,

what colleges they attend,

what internships they acquire. 

 

 

We’ve hauled kids and ass to practices, lessons, and games...

both near and four states away.

We’ve inflated their egos

and gushed over every achievement.

Everyone is a

winner,

a champion,

and the next best. 

Everyone gets a trophy.

 So stop Kat…aren’t you a helicopter parent too?

Okay, okay….I admit it, guilty as described…

but I like to consider myself the

“Katcher in the Rye.” 

(sounds a lot better than helicopter parent and
Holden Caulfield is my idol.)

I have even said OUTLOUD (to no one but myself)

 “I have to catch everybody, before they go over the cliff.”

That's just my inner 'Holden Caulfield Kat' talking...

making sure deadlines are met, appointments made,

follow-throughs are followed,

and nothing falls the cracks. 

 

Anywhoooo…….

I hear that some helicopter parents have extended their reach

into the work force...

calling employers to negotiate salary and benefits. 

“That killed me.”

(my favorite Holden expression.)

At some point the propellers must come off and our helicopters should be grounded. 

We need to...eject ourselves from these 'metal parent traps'...

and parachute back to EARTH.

And...This Katcher in the Rye is willing to do just that...

right after I finish building

a rock solid
10-foot wall

along the entire edge of that

“crazy cliff.”

Lip Service

With our economy in a ‘downward dog’…

                                   we are spending less cashola on big-ticket items.

(hopefully we don't remain in this uncomfortable position much longer.)

Instead, we are spending more cash on small items...
vice items...

beer, candy, ice cream, and lipstick.

Oooh la la

What better way to get ourselves (and the economy) out of a slump...

than with a little indulgence...

VICE, VICE, baby....

beer, candy, and ice cream to the hips…

and a little lipstick to the lips.

There is nothing like a new shade of lipstick

to put a little color back into our faces and make us happy.

( Although a 16 oz. beer can have the same effect.)

With creative/sassy names given to lipstick

after  food, drink, and romance...

it's hard to know whether to

eat them,

drink them,  

or date them.

Lipsticks aren’t given names like “Red” anymore.

                                                                    (Soooo hohum.)

Instead we see:  “Cherry Desirable” or “Cherry Tart.”

                                                                    (Ooooo...scandalous.)

I would love the colorful job of coming up with new names..

Redneck Red,

One Hot Momma,

Wine-o Woman

Blogger Blush,

 50 shades of grey

(wait, that’s another blog)

Anywhooooo......

Whenever I splurge on a new tube of lipstick...it’s almost always the wrong shade.

After I've generously applied it to my lips...

"Dolce Vita"

ends up looking more like

 “Dolce Death.”

My drawers at home are full of rejected “little splurges.” 

So back I go...to the store...to try my luck at the lipstick lottery.

You might think these 'little splurges' don't add up enough
to stimulate the economy...

and

you might even equate the attempt with ...

putting "lipstick on a pig"

But

Unless you’ve put lipstick on a pig....

                                                 

I don’t want to hear one 'oink' out of you.

What on EARTH Day?

the day people take to the streets, parks, and beaches

to do some spring cleaning.

It’s all about taking care of Mother Earth.

For me, Earth Day also has another significance.

One that I'll always remember...
no matter how many earth rotations pass. 

It was the day I wanted to bury an elementary school principal…

six feet under

Motha Earth.

But instead of risking jail time…

I merely tromped all over Mr. Principal

with a sturdy pair of earthshoes.

I’m sure you’re wondering what earthly reason

I would have to go after a school principal...

(especially one who was very popular with parents and kids.)

To break it down and sum it all up…

bigC was in the fifth grade and had attended an Earth Day Fair during school.

When she got home, she excitedly told me

that a man in one of the Fair booths stuck her with needles.

A man? With needles?

I immediately called the principal.

 Apparently ‘the man” was an acupuncturist

and used Chelsea’s arm to demonstrate his art of stick ‘em.

When a teacher saw what was going on…she shut his demo down.

But that was after Chels had become his personal pin cushion.

The principal did his best to assure me

that bigC would be fine

and not to worry about any pin cushion disease...

but it was hard to calm me down.

“Where on earth is this okay?

Who on earth would do this?

What on earth is going on?”

And my final "I'm Coming for you/promise/threat":

“If ANYTHING happens to Chelsea…

If she comes down with so much as a sniffle…

You will be living  HELL on earth.”

Anywhoooo………………….

It is instinctive for all mothers on this great EARTH to protect their young…

no matter what species they belong to.

And this Kat…would do anything to protect her kittens.

 Anything.

I've occasionally run into (not run over) the principal over the years…

and I'm very cordial. 

But I do give him the stink eye…

just so he remembers that I have dirt on him.

And he never ever fails to forget me.

I’m sure he has told his wife…that should something ever happen to him…

make sure to look for...

earthshoe prints.

Hipsters vs Hippies

For some revolutionary reason...
I've been thinking about
Hipsters

and

Hippies

(although I've never claimed membership to either group.)

Apparently I'm

too old (and not witty enough) for one....
or too square (and love high heels too much) for the other...

so neither group would claim me anyway.

Hipsters and Hippies both share the word "hip"...
so they 'sound' like they could be related....
but the only way that would ring true...
was if they were

"kin" ...
a 20/30 something hipster and an aging Hippie parent.

Hipsters and Hippies
look different,
act different...
and the closer you get ...
they smell different.

Hippie                                                                                        Hipster

tie-dye,  flower power clothing,                                               vintage/thrift store clothing

fringe vests                                                                              edge shirts, scarfs

bell-bottom jeans                                                                     skinny jeans

barefoot/rope sandals                                                               "oldschool"sneakers                                                                                

full-grown beard                                                                        scruffy beards

long hair                                                                                     shag cut/side-swept bangs
headbands                                                                                 beanies

granny glasses                                                                           glasses

drink herbal tea                                                                          drink coffee/PBR

smoke pot                                                                                  smoke European cigarettes

listen to psychedelic rock                                                           listen to indie rock

stand for World Peace/                                                              don't stand for anything...

smell of pot and incense                                                             smell of java and cigarettes

Both Hipsters and Hippies reject what is "mainstream"  and
both conjure up visions of a  "countercultural" scene...
like a couple of salmon swimming up (main)stream.

BUT

 that's where both fish stop swimming along in the same school. 
 After that....they swim in different tributaries.
(Have you had it up to the gils with this fish imagery?)

Hipsters, unlike Hippies, are not doing anything revolutionary. 
They are not political activists fighting to the change the world.  
A Hipster's revolution is against the attitudes of "mainstream consumers."
They like the indie culture, bohemian style, and gravitate to what is  " un-popular." 
They love sarcasm, irony (especially on their T-shirts) and witty banter. 
and they want their look to be 'natural' and not contrived...
when in reality...it is carefully thought out. 

(Now isn't that ironic?)

There is, however, the possibility that a Hipster
could one day grow to become a hippie. 

Past a certain age...
with a little weight gain...


we all get a little

hippie hippy.

Then after the weight gain...
the only joints being passed around...


are old joints...

for new ones.

Help Me, Rosetta

Oh, how I wish

I was fluent in another language...

even just one other.

(HELP ME, ROSETTA)

"They" say speaking more than one language exercises the brain...

and may help slow the aging process of your mind.

hmmm...

Does pig latin count?

                                                                    (ixnay onay igpay atinlay atkay)
     

Whenever I travel and leave my katWORLD...

I am reminded of how many people can speak more than one language.

On a recent visit to Los Angeles,

while chilin' at the hotel pool

I was surrounded by 5 women who were

chatting up a storm  and
laughing like hyenas...

in another language.

(What's more fun than a storm of laughing hyenas?)

  I assumed they were speaking German because

I overheard a word that sounded a lot like...

"nine"

BUT

$9 was also the price of bottled  water at the hotel...

so
who knows?

Not understanding what is being spoken is one thing,

but when there is also  laughing involved...

you reeeeally feel left out.

You wanna be in on the joke,

but more importantly...

you wanna make sure you aren't the joke.

It can make a person feel a little self conscious...
like being last to the water cooler....

after a joke has been told and everyone's laughing...

but the laughter suddenly stops

when you arrive.

Anywhooo....

I wasn't sure what the women were laughing about...

but when they looked over at me...

I laughed along. 

haHaHAhA

After all,

I did think it was 

pretttty funny

how the hotel can get away with charging

NINE dollars

for a freaking bottle of water.

atkay OUTAY