I’m Sorry

Dear Neighbors,

By know I’m sure I have you believing that I’m the successful Broadway star that lives downstairs on days that I’m not amazing crowds in New York City.

I don’t blame you. Sometimes I actually believe it myself when I stare into my mirror and belt out the soundtracks to Funny Girl and Les Miserables with full force and support from my diaphragm.

The truth is, I’m no Broadway star. At least not one in real life. You can’t believe it, I know. It’s an easy mistake to make. So I’m sorry to disappoint you but you won’t be receiving free tickets to my next big production because the only productions happening are the ones in my bedroom that you get the pleasure of listening to through our shared walls.

But believe me, I appreciate your applause. That is what you’re doing when you bang on my walls, am I right?

Sincerely,

Kaitlyn

 

 

Happy Mother's Day

Your Mother is always with you.

She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.

She’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume she wore.

She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well.

She’s your breath in the air on a cold winter’s day, the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of the rainbow.

She is Christmas morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter and she is crystallized in every teardrop.

A Mother shows every emotion… happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow … and all the while, hoping and praying that you will only know the good feelings in life.

She is the place you came from, your first home and she’s the map you follow with every step you take.

She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you…

Not time, not space, not even death.

-Unknown

Happy Mother's Day to my sweet Mama and all the wonderful Mama's in the world. 

10 Words

Pinterest

So today's prompt from dear ol' Jenni, "Sell yourself in 10 words or less", is giving me hives. 

I couldn't sell oxygen if my life depended on it. And it does, oddly enough.

I'm not even entirely sure how this is supposed to be interpreted. Like am I supposed to tell you that I'm "fast, efficient, wise and the best choice you'll ever make"? Hmm, now that I just heard myself say that, I kind of believe it. 

I'm "fast, efficient, wise and the best choice you'll ever make."

Unless it's the weekend or I'm on my period or it's any day after work. In which case that entire sentence can be tossed right out the window.

Happy weekend friends! I'm down at my Mama's in Southern Utah, packing up all THREE of those damn sweet golden retrievers and getting ready to go lounge on some red rock. Heaven, I tell you.

Embarrassing Moments

Do I even need to point out which one I am?

I’m not going to be the person that claims to never get embarrassed. Okay. Fine. I am. I never get embarrassed. Maybe “never” is an exaggeration, but either way, I’m struggling over here trying to think of a truly embarrassing moment. Well… there was the time my sister got lice from the babysitter’s and all my friends thought I had lice too and made fun of me for it, but that was mostly just mean (*side eye glare* to my friends, you know who you are, *cough* Sissy). For the record, I never got my sister’s lice. Take that, meanies.

There was also the time (last summer, but you didn’t hear that from me) that I laughed soooo hard I literally could.not.help. but empty my entire bladder, in my white shorts, on the lawn of the Utah State Capitol Building, but that story really is for another day. Trust me.

One of my favorite claims to embarrassment (except it’s not embarrassing, it’s just hilarious) happened back in, oh, let’s say fifth grade-ish. You might remember when I talked about my love affair with Boyz II Men HERE. My love for those smooth R&B harmonies began right around the time the picture above was taken. In all honesty, I was probably battling some “daddy issues” at the time which is probably why I made my friend, Libby, pinky swear (because it was serious, dude) to never reveal who my real dad was. I mean, I figured it was probably obvious because he and I strikingly resembled each other, but still Libby swore she’d never tell anyone that I was a product of the one and only Wanya Morris of Boyz II Men. He was my dad (duh) but he obviously couldn’t be around because he was off wooing audiences full of screaming adult women, and recording albums and accepting awards. Which leads me to the moment of truth. Grammy night. The phone rang, after 9:00 p.m., which was “off-limits” time for a nine-year old. It was Libby asking if I could talk. I’m sure she was totally let down when Mom told her it was too late for me to talk, in which case our pinky-swear was thrown right out the window and she said to my mom, “Well, I’m watching the Grammy’s and Boyz II Men is on and I just really want to know which one her dad is.” Oops. As you can imagine, Mom and I had a good heart to heart that night and I learned a lesson about getting caught lying. Let’s just say that today, I’m much better at NOT getting caught.

So, embarrassing? Not really. I just love that story and wanted an excuse to tell it.

A moment

My work commute, if you can even call it a commute, is one of my favorite moments of each work day. I live on Main AND work on Main so I commute on Main. It’s rather convenient, not to mention THE most lovely walk especially now that the snow has melted and the soil has thawed and the tulips on Temple Square are in full bloom. I find my 5-block commute to be an inspiring piece of my day and a moment I look forward to (unless I’m running late and I beg Sean to drop me off, which happens more than I’d like to admit, but shhhh). It’s an important 15-minutes of peace and quiet and time to be in my own head with my own thoughts. Some people do their thinking on the toilet, and I do my thinking on Main Street (but not to discount toilet thinking because I do happen to know that some of the most brilliant ideas have been birthed while on the toilet. Am I right?)