where is k8?

http://mfeopt2.blogspot.com/

find me here at our foster/adopt blog

http://mfeopt2.blogspot.com/

Currently

There is no "app" for writing a research paper.
No magic Pinterest DIY TRICK to write the paper faster, although a DIY research paper is GENERALLY the most academically acceptable paper.
And in case you were wondering, there is nothing research paper "helpful" on Youtube, hulu, netflix, so-and-so's blog, cell phone or facebook. I have tried them all today, twice. NOTHING. So all that is left is FINISHING MY PAPER.


Things in my life:

~ Saw Andrew McMahon (Formerly of Jack's Mannequin and Something Corporate) in concert a few days ago. EXHILARATING. Thrilling. And all things delightful.
~ School. Aforementioned research paper, and various crap discussed for the sake of furthing my academic edification by choking down liberal propaganda.
~ I start a new job next week
~ Husband started his new job a few weeks ago, and loves it
~ I moved to PX.
~ PX is big.
~ I don't generally like moving, boxes, paper, chaos, and having to organize from scratch.
~ I do like bubble wrap. A great deal. Oddly enough there is an app for that...
~ I turn 25 soon. Tragic story.




Brain Rattles

I hope I never get tased. I kept trying to type tazed.. .but I think it is tased. Either way I hope it never happens to me. That would be awful.

My cats are way cooler than your cats. Probably any of your other pets too. You have no idea.

I dread my cellphone plan expiring.

Every time I have to click " i accept these terms" on the computer, I get chills of terror down my spine.

I will google you.

Someday, I hope to be made into a brilliantly funny meme. Ok maybe not. but maybe....hmmmm

Sometimes I think things like; "If Aladdin and Jasmine or Prince Charming and Cinderella ever met me and my husband they would be insanely jealous."



Just for kicks, because I lived it. Gratuitously, for you.

sniff

Associations. I hate chicken soup. Let me clarify, I hate HOME-MADE chicken soup....why is that? minus my aversion to raw meats in general, (too many anatomy books a kid I assume) for some reason unless chicken soup is hidden among an un-imaginable amount of sodium, chicken soup creates a nauseatingly tingle in my body. Why Kate? Why are you so weird? why this unhealthy aversion to something so very wholesome? Simply the timing of a bad stomach flu when I was....5 years old. Perhaps this is childish, but some of you may be all-to familiar with how our mind associates.

Smells.
 The smell of rosin, sweat, tights and hairspray= my ballet bag.
The smell of rubber, sweat, and feet=My martial arts days.
Vanilla=smells amazing in it's own right. And to me smells like Pinterest.
Tea tree oil= my comfort oil, reminds me of my mamma and makes me thing of late-night snuggles when I was being sneaky up past my bedtime and she was taking care of her skin....
Our dirty laundry=my husband, comforting and safe.
Desert after Rain=Smells like love

The smell of chicken soup=stomach flu
You get the picture.

wonderful days

Yesterday was wonderful. After one of my half day at one location, half day at another, it was only 3:00 pm and I had felt like I had made good use of my work day at both locations. I completed an hour at the gym, then wandered to the library where I caught up on the latest in Marie Claire and Vogue, then chose a few novels I thought I could knock off quickly in between clients in these slow summer weeks. My husband met me at the library, and we both solemnly killed time in the quiet, cool sanctuary of literature. (the sanctuary seemed less disturbed by bums and cell phones than usual) When it was time we drove to the Udall swimming pool for some lap swimming. The cool water melting off the boiled sweat of the Tucson day. We always gasp our way about how out of shape we are but keep going nonetheless; chatting in between lengths about what’s for dinner, random news of the day, and the mountain of laundry accumulating at home. My laps always become steadier, and my breathing more even  as I remember my swim lessons of old; I envision my tan darkening, and I only get kicked once by Joseph in our shared lane...impressively.
And on the drive home I can’t help but think I would be so wonderfully happy and content if life went on like this forever. Just the two of us intertwining our schedules, planning swim dates, wine and a redbox on any given night we choose; sleepovers in the living room, arguing over paint and the proper way to load a dishwasher...perfection.  I wonder if children would ruin our little world, then I mentally slap myself for such a selfish SELFISH thought, for I know so many people would look at our life with an “ohh poor things, they don’t know how awesome it is to be parents.”  And we would look right back with a quiet sigh of temporary relief. That being said, in the stillness of these “perfect” days I sometimes feel a tug, a tick, a mental reminder to enjoy these moments because it will pass, and I will be just as happy and content in a different type of wonderful.

I did it.

I just hit submit to an online application that I had been avoiding filling out. Not for lack of desire, but for the fear and insecurities that have been bubbling inside me these past few weeks.

The last time I filled out a "university" college application, I was with my mother, it was a HUGE deal for me.  I was on the "senior-itis high" only an 18 year old high school student would understand,  on the brink of change, freedom and with the world's oyster at my fingertips.

That was over 6 years ago. Kate and the University of Arizona did not get along as well as expected.
I made some friends I didn't fail my classes, but saying God was trying to transition my life is an understatement. I was miserable. I was hanging out with sad, miserable people, and I was trying to force myself into learning and becoming proficient in subjects that I quickly learned I had no interest in.  I was going through a "messy" break-up, and became miserably sick, all not half-way through my first semester.  I think God was trying to get my attention.


Fast forward  to 2012. I have a fulfilling job, a trade skill I enjoy and am told have talent in. I own my own business, and work for 2 others; and have been happily married for almost 3 years. But it is/was not at all where I expected to be...in so many ways I feel like a failure.

Lately, I have had to come to terms with my failure as a humbling experience God worked together for the good. And yet he provides me with the means for getting together my unfinished business.

I will not be my own academic inferior. I will achieve my goals, (unless God wants to change them again) I will do it with a good attitude, and not let the shadow of my failures darken the light of the road ahead.

A day in the life...

Sometimes I hesitate when people ask me "what do YOU do?" I hesitate for a number of reasons although I am a massage therapist, and proud to say that I am indeed, a licensed massage therapist who specializes in pain management and an orthopedic style of therapeutic massage...Some days when heading home from a super long day at *insert whatever k8 actually does here* I think back on my day and wish there was a better title for my job.

There is no typical day, but here is an example of a recent one.

Get up, prep, pack, feed kitties, leave sleeping cute husband to be at my first job by 8:15. The office space which I rent a treatment room I also do office work. I shred files today, refilling clear plastic bags for proper recycling of said shredded material over and over. Miscellaneous projects never the same. Today I fix the vacuum cleaner by cleaning out the caught carpet edgings and hair wrapped in the vacuum front roller...thingy. As I sit on the floor with dust flying about me, I think of the networking meeting later today, and wonder if the "nicer" outfit I have on, and make-up etc will stay in tact 'til evening. Disinfect office touch-ables, set up my space for the day. My first client arrives at 9:45: an extreme chemical sensitivity case; today I am hoping she doesn't sense I wore deodorant, which could jeopardize the whole treatment. The 30 minute treatment goes for almost an hour, but this client is a Christian and because of her chemical sensitivities can no longer fellowship in groups, so I always schedule extra time for her for prayer and chatting. Then back to office work; data entry and scanning documents and sorting until next client arrives. Built like a football player with some intense muscles spasms, this one is a workout for me. Broke the spasm cycle but clearly the inflammation will take a while to get back to 100%. This frustrates my psyche....

It is now 12:30 and I leave and head to my other job. Emails, phone calls; go over website design changes, work on a new article for a new section of the website still under construction. Read over newsletter draft. My next client: 90 minute deep tissue trigger point and rotator cuff maintenance, surgery prevention. Help boss finish adding 220 emails to our list and upload them and send out our first newsletter! Minor glitches included a conference call with our website designer.

I then check outfit for residual cat hair vacuum dust, and oil stains. Make sure I smell pretty and head to a 'soiree' networking hour with other LMTs who are, like me, are a Beta tester for a new "massage scheduling website" just launched. Thank goodness they served appetizers, it was my dinner.

8:15 and I am headed home.

No day of mine is the same, it keeps life interesting... Just thought I would let you know.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I love my birthday.

Let's chalk it up to my parents spoiling me rotten. My vague memories of birthdays years past include daddy hiding "my birthday dress," which he usually picked for me himself, wrapped somewhere in the house. Playing hot'n'cold with dad searching for my present is as fond a memory as our hours playing ice cream girl..

As far back as i can remember dad would print "happy birthday Katelyn" signs an tape them around the house with balloons. Mom compensated with elaborate tea parties and petit fours the years dad was unavailable for my special day. I remember my favorite "smelly jellys' for my growing feet many years, and various relatives making a spring visits with added early or belated celebrations JUST for me no matter when they showed up. Call me the princess, call me spoiled, whatever you wish, but on March 24th please oh please call me the birthday girl!

I appreciate my husband playing along the entire month of march....with "ok, because its your BIRTHDAY!" and this year he went overboard with thoughtful gifts he showered me after work yesterday. Then we shared a delightful afternoon and evening with friends.

This year had me particularly excited, my golden 24th on the 24th of March! it will only happen once in my short little lifetime :-)

What a delightful day!