Kate

Author: Kate Page 28 of 195

Wild Turkey Taking Flight

On May 27, 2014

This past weekend, Wonder Boy and I went on a walk, trying to enjoy the nice weather and check out a new (to us) bar. One our way, we passed a grouping of families grilling out and the food smelled delicious. I was looking their way to see what smelled so great and wiped out. I tripped on the edge of the sidewalk and landed on an elbow and knee with my sunglasses flying off to somewhere nearby. Wonder Boy leaned in to check on me.”Are you okay?” he asked.
“Do you hear them?” I hissed, trying not to cry. “They are making fun of me!”

And they were. And that’s okay because I appreciate schadenfreude as well as the next guy, but what they were saying!

“Look at that girl drunk on Wild Turkey!”
“Oh, that drunk girl just fell right down!”
“I bet she had so much Wild Turkey!”
“She’s drunk on Jegermeister!”

I was stone. cold. sober. and trying to calmly assess my damage (mostly road rash and a bloodied knee and ankle). I stood up and dusted myself off, trying to maintain what little dignity I had left when I received sage advice.

“Don’t let a fall ruin your day,” a man from the cookout group yelled out to me. “And you tell everyone a black man told you that!” (The second half of the quote is unnecessary to include here but it was equally unnecessary to have been said, so there you go.)

…

When I was young – maybe six – I cooked my parents a fancy dinner. I made scrambled eggs – the only thing I knew how to cook – and wanted to get them glasses of wine. I tried every bottle I could reach in the liquor cabinet, looking for one I could open. (Side note: Isn’t it a little odd that I, at six, could access so much liquor?) I located a bottle with a twist-off cap and filled some wine glasses to the rim. My parents sat down to their fancy meal and couldn’t help but smell the almost overflowing glasses of liquor. “Kate, what is this?” my dad asked me. When I showed him the bottle of Wild Turkey I had used, he replied (in my memory of the event) with “If I drank all of this, I would die.”

…

That breakfast story used to be my only association with Wild Turkey. Now I know that it is not good with scrambled eggs and might cause death AND that apparently I lot of girls get drunk on it and fall flat on their faces while walking down the street, not then I’d let that ruin my day.

My Week In Books – Time on the Beach

By Kate

On May 26, 2014

In books

I’ve spent the past week beach-side with a book in my hands most of the time. If I’m being honest, I’m a little disappointed that I only read five books over the week, which is several less than previous trips. On the upside, because I bought so many for the trip, I now have a healthy stack of books to work my way through!Life After Life by Jill McCorkle
This novel focuses on the lives of different people living in, working at and visiting a retirement facility. Although not exactly the happiest of books to pick up on vacation, McCorkle presents a loving perspective on the passing of life and the responsibility of those of us left behind to honor the memories of the dead.

Stella Bain by Anita Shreve
In the midst of World War I, an American woman shows up at a medical facility for soldiers with no clues as to her identity. I’ve found books by Anita Shreve to be consistently good and this one didn’t disappoint. I loved learning about the identity of Stella Bain (the injured woman) as well as her reasons for being amidst the fighting overseas.

Sisterland by Curtis Sittenfeld
Several of my friends have read Sisterland with pretty mediocre feedback, but I was interested anyway. As one of four children, I’m aware of how complicated the relationships between siblings can be and think Sittenfeld presented that well with the interactions of Kate and Violet.

Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple
I was supposed to read this book for book club one month but life got in the way. I’m glad I saved it for when I did because it made for the perfect beach / summer read. It’s quirky and funny and easy to pick up and put down in between dips in the pool. I could tell you more but I think knowing much about this book beforehand would only ruin the fun of it.

Modigliani Scandal by Ken Follett
I have strong opinions on books by Jodi Picoult – I think they’re mindless fluff and little more. I used to really enjoy them until they all started seeming the same. What I will give Picoult credit for is that her books are consistently entertaining. I might forget everything I just read as soon as I put down the book, but during the reading, I like it. That’s also how I’ve started to feel about Ken Follett. His Pillars of the Earth series and Century Trilogy are so good but I now see that they (especially the Century books) are a culmination of all of his previous books. Modigliani Scandal is no different than most of the Picoult books I’ve read in that I can’t really tell you much of what it’s about, although I did enjoy it while reading it. I have a few more of his novels on my bookshelf waiting for me, but after that I think I’ll need to be taking a break.

Books I read during a summer 2014 beach vacation.

Pleading Guilty to a Guilty Pleasure

By Kate

On May 21, 2014

In television

In theory, I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. If you like it, that’s good enough. Right? There’s no such thing as having crappy taste in music as long as you legitimately like what you’re listening to. (Okay, I actually do think there is some pretty terrible music options out there, but if you like it, you like it!) If your thing is Lifetime movies or infomercials or those History Channel shows with battle reenactments, more power to you!All of that I believe. In theory.

All of that is in theory because there is one show I am mortified to like. Worse, I am mortified to say I cry at almost every single terrible episode. It’s just television producers toying with my emotions during what are really only glorified commercials. But, as someone not normally prone to tears, if I’m in the mood for a good cry, I know what will consistently work. My guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

Undercover Boss.

You just threw up a little, didn’t you? I don’t blame you.

I forget when I discovered this show. I know I watched it on one international plane flight where the episodes were sandwiched between movies about death, 9/11 and sappy love stories and where I was facing the plane window with tears streaming down my face like a fool. (This might have been exacerbated by the fact that I’d been awake for about 26 hours, but whatever.)

Even now if I’m home and flipping through the channels, I’ll frequently stop at Undercover Boss. If Wonder Boy comes home and sees me watching it, he leaves the room.

AS HE SHOULD.

My Week In Books: Bloggers and Mobsters

By Kate

On May 19, 2014

In books

Bloggers versus Mobsters:

Bloggers occasionally write for hire and mobsters kill for hire. Ideally, both get paid.
Bloggers have their tools of choice (laptops, tablets, desktop computers and cameras) and mobsters have their tools of choice (gun, knives, machetes … I don’t know about the last one but it sounds badass).
Bloggers make an insular group online with lots of incestuous relationships formed by cross-posting and interacting virtually while mobsters have their own insular group made of genetics or initiations including murder, stealing, etc.

Okay, so my mobster knowledge is limited. And Kings of Brighton Beach Episode #1: Part One: Gangsters with Guns by D.B. Shuster didn’t really help the situation as the words gangsters and mafia were thrown about as though related. They aren’t, are they?

But first things first. You’ll note I didn’t share any books last week and that’s because it took me so long to finish Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir by Jenny Lawson, also known as the Bloggess. By all accounts, I should have loved this book. Her writing style is not dissimilar from mine, though she cusses a heck of a lot more. She did include a photograph of a raccoon wearing jams (do you remember jams from the 90s … sort of ugly shorts) and that made me laugh. A story about the five-foot-tall metal chicken waiting for someone at their front door had me laughing out loud at the gym. But, and I don’t want to spoil anything for you, those were the only two times I laughed. At this book that I’ve been told is hysterical. Meh.

Next up I read Kings of Brighton Beach Episode #1: Part One: Gangsters with Guns and I’ll freely admit that part of my motivation to read it was because the author, D.B. Shuster, sent me a signed copy accompanied by a handwritten note. Shuster has written two books – Kings of Brighton Beach episodes1 and 2 – and I have this thing I’ve been doing lately when I read new authors. I think to myself, “How would I feel about myself if I wrote this?” It’s a horribly condescending, insulting thought process I have because basically I am cutting people slack for being new. And yet. So would I be proud if I had written this book? Heck yes. Do I love that it’s all about Russian mafia and makes me feel like I am back in the 1980s? Definitely. Is it a book I’d recommend? I’m not so sure.

And there you have it. My week in books. I’m grateful to the upcoming week off of work where I’ll be reading tons of books and am sure to have a few winners about which I can write!

Walking – You’re Doing it Wrong: On Slow Walkers Everywhere

By Kate

On May 14, 2014

In uncategorized

Subtitled: Things That Don’t Really Matter But Still Bug the Heck Out of MeI don’t always walk fast. But I don’t think I ever really walk slowly. Maybe if I’m heading in to a doctor’s appointment I don’t want to experience? But no, even then I walking along at a normal clip to get things over with. It just doesn’t make sense, this walking slow. (Excepting elderly folk and people with actual physical limitations, of course.)

Walking slow especially doesn’t make sense on sidewalks, at malls or other stores, at flea markets or amusement parks. Oh, and races. Why enter a race of you’re going to be pokey about it?!?

When I’m caught behind a slow walker, and let’s be honest, they normally come in pairs… So when I’m caught behind a pair of slow walkers, I actually get anxious. I feel trapped. Why are you going so slow? And too often, walking just far enough apart from each other that people of a normal gait cannot get around you. Why is that happening?

I feel like slow walkers should be forced to walk single file. Or just not walk slowly at all. If my father ever publishes his book called The Code that he often refers too, right near the top would be this rule: “Slow walking. Don’t do it.”