Tough Girl

Female role models in literature and media have come a long way. Sure, it's not hard to rise above the June Cleaver/Disney Princess archetype of the 1950s, but still - a lot of girls in books and TV shows really kick butt.

Olivia Dunham from Fringe. She'll set you on fire with her mind...if she doesn't shoot you or punch you out first.

I think it's wonderful that girls are encouraged to be themselves and yet aspire to sheer awesomeness. Children's lit is full of spunky, courageous heroines who conquer and take names: Pippi Longstocking, Junie B. Jones, and Eloise are just a few. Though on the continuum between Pippi Longstocking and Shirley Temple, I can tell you which side I fall on. And it's not the side of the girl who has superhuman strength, stands up to authority figures, and single-handedly chases two robbers out of her home.

That would be Pippi.

I'm far too quick to ask for help, whine, or cry. When I need to stand up for myself, the words just don't come. Other people's opinions of me matter much more than they should. I can't even carry a watermelon to the car without getting exhausted (granted, it is 100 degrees outside, but still). I'm wide-eyed and naive...and I sing to my animals. In a list of 150 adjectives to describe me, I think "tough," "independent," and "ass-kicking," would likely be absent.

When someone like me tries to act tough, it ends up looking like an 80s Music Video:



Wait, no. Even Billy Joel is tougher than me. How about this one?



There we go. Backstreet Boys meets Buttercream Gang.

Drawing from these two videos, here's a list of things I can do to get tougher:

1. Hang out in places where there's more graffiti
2. Learn to dance (especially moves with lots of hopping)
3. Get an extra-large shirt that says HOMEBOY
4. Become a mechanic

Actually, that last one isn't so bad. Worked for Kaylee on Firefly - she's still a shrinking violet next to Zoe, but at least she gets dirty and likes machines. The show had to do something to balance her saccharine effervescence.

That's one thing I really enjoyed about Disney's Enchanted - even though it subverted and broke Disney and fairy tale tropes to high heaven, at the end, it was really ok for Morgan (Robert's daughter) to want to be a princess.

Of course, if parents didn't let their little girls grow up to be princesses, who would support the $4 billion Disney Princess Franchise? Hmm...

Love,

Katie

Clean cup! Move down!

What, Kitty? You're looking at me like you've never seen a clean room before.

...

Gentle readers, please don't think about that one too hard.

Anyway, I promised you after-pics, so...

Before

After!

You guys are such great motivation.

Note the absence of piles on the floor.

Calvin is just proving how tall he is. Yes, we know. You're a big cat.

Of the two, Susie is actually more likely to pose for a picture.

But of course, the thing about having a nice clean office is that it's such an inviting space to...do things in. Which involves making messes. So I did, this week, but I cleaned it all up! If you've been to our house, you might have seen this on the bathroom wall:

It's a dandelion, releasing fluffy white seeds to the wind! My color scheme is bright blue and gold, and I find the image of letting the wind carry you off very relaxing. And my bathroom is a very peaceful, cheery place, as bathrooms go. But only a few days after I painted it up there, a visitor pointed out,

"Katie? You know you have the word 'release' painted on your bathroom wall? ...In a bathroom? You know...release?"

Thanks. Great. I don't care if no one else in the world thinks that, now I DO.

So this weekend I replaced it with some dandelion-inspired art:

Paper collage

And I painted over the dandelion. But I'm no artist, so I don't adore the art - especially the fluffy white dandelion, which looks more like a cotton blossom to me. Plus, I guess I didn't stir the paint well enough - if you look closely, you can see the brushstrokes where I painted over the dandelion and the word - it's a slightly different color.

Oh well. Perfection isn't my game. There's a reason there isn't an "after" picture of the office closet.*

Love,

Katie

*No, I did not just stuff all my junk in there. But I didn't exactly clean it out, either...

Hazardous materials

I really love Burt's Bees Herbal Deodorant, an alcohol-based spray with sage and citrus. But the last time I bought a bottle, it smelled quite nasty - not really what you want in a deodorant. I wrote Burt's Bees (ah, the wonders of the internet) and they offered to send me a free bottle. It arrived in an...unusual fashion.

I was in the kitchen when I saw someone on my front stoop. I went to the door and it was the mail carrier, large postal bin in hand.

"Uh, hi, ma'am. I know this is kind of strange..."

"Yes?"

"Well...the post office thought there might be a hazardous material in this package addressed to you." I looked inside - it was from Burt's Bees.

"Well, I'm expecting it - I know what it is."

"Ok...well, you can have it. I'm just not allowed to touch it."

"So you can deliver a potentially hazardous material, as long as you don't have to touch it?"

He laughed. "Apparently - I've never done this before."

"So what do I need to do?"

"Well - just reach in the bin here and remove it."

The bin was open at the top, but the opening was crisscrossed with plastic tape - presumably to keep the package from accidentally falling out. So after struggling for a few minutes, I yanked the package out of the bin. The postman looked relieved.

"Uh, ok, well I guess that's it. Thanks a lot." I don't think a mail carrier has ever thanked me for picking up my mail!

In other news, kitten!



If you're not one of the 1.9 million people who have already viewed this video...now you have. Thanks, Renee!

It's a good thing I didn't order green apples by mail. Then the postman would have been terrified!

Love,

Katie

Is it fear or courage which compels you, Fleshling?

There comes a time in every kitteh's life when he is forced to confront his worst fears:

Humans are not exempt from this. Readers, meet my private shame:

My office. Eek.

Private shame, meet readers:

Ok, so this isn't exactly private - we host board game night every Wednesday, so people see it every week. But that doesn't make me feel any less ashamed!

Now before you say anything: I firmly believe that messes are like weight issues. It's not a competition. One person's mess (or weight) is infinitely more frustrating to them than to anyone else. And it never helps to hear, "Well, you're thinner/more organized than me, so what do you know?" It just makes one feel more shameful, not less. So please comment with wisdom and kindness.

Ahem. /rant

So my hope is that by publishing photos of my private shame, I'll be motivated to correct it. It will be more fun to post "after" photos when it's all cleaned up.

Those are just boxes filled with random objects - from batteries to paperclips to USB cords. A banana box and a basket full of objects smaller than tennis balls! Yup...this will be a long haul.

Plus, there are lots of fun projects I've been meaning to create and post about, and I can't do anything until I have a workspace to create in.

So a week from today, I solemnly promise to post "after" pictures of my office, no matter how badly I fail at the organization mission. There will be posts about things that are more exciting than cleaning too, I promise. Thanks for serving as my motivation and support group - everything's better with a party!

Love,

Katie

So not the drama.

I wish I could tell you that in the last month, I've been having amazing adventures, exploits too scandalous to publicize on the internet. Well, I can tell you that. I'm a horrible liar, though, so you'd probably know how true that is (or isn't.)

I did get to meet a policeman at Hobby Lobby yesterday, though. I was running a ton of errands yesterday, and bought some fabric to make curtains for our bedroom at FM Store. It was a terrific bargain, so when I paid with my $50 bill, I got a $20 bill in change.

I almost asked for a different bill - it was weird. It was the old style of bill, with the small face, but it felt brand-new. It was printed strangely - the front didn't have an equal border around all the sides, so the design was cut off at the top just a skotch.

But there had already been a mix-up at the register. The clerk had overcharged me and I'd pointed it out, and she and two managers were huddled around the ancient machine trying to get it to void the first purchase correctly. Not wanting to make a bigger stink, I just took the bill and left. I went straight to Hob Lob, rounded up my needs, and attempted to pay with the $20 I just received.

That's when they called the cops on me.

Ok, so they were super-nice about it. They checked it under the little blacklight machine (three of them, actually), and said they were suspicious of the bill, but not of me. I waited for the police to get there. He checked all the $20s in my purse, asked me where I got the imposter twenty (it's a great thing that I tried to spend it right away, so I remembered!) and marked on it with a pen. He said it could just be really old - it was from 1981 but still felt brand new - but he had to confiscate it because it was really suspicious and he wasn't sure. But he didn't arrest me or anything! Very dramatic.

I didn't read much Babysitter's Club when I was a kid, but I did read the one where Stacey gets in trouble for accidentally passing a counterfeit bill. Of course, since it's the Babysitter's Club, the girls take it upon themselves to catch the counterfeiters, and, since it's the Babysitter's Club, they succeed! That's all I remember about the book, but I kept thinking about it at Hobby Lobby yesterday. Thankfully, I probably look like a counterfeiter about as much as a preteen goody-two-shoes babysitter, so I was safe.

Love,

Katie