Good... And Good for You

i ran into this guy the other day who i remembered instantaneously (instantly?) and vividly. but he didn't recognize me so i didn't mention it. about 20-25 years ago, he lived next door to my grandma and consequently he and i would play together almost every day. one summer afternoon, we sat in his living room eating popsicles when he inexplicably stood up and stripped nude. following his lead, i stood up and RAN HOME! later, his mother brought him over to my grandma's house and forced him to apologize to me for nuding up. i did not bring up this story the other day. but it is so in my arsenal in case i ever see him being a jerk. it's my own brand of vigilante justice.

a certain senator's campaign manager, who i really like (he's very grandpa-ish) (and he calls me "bright eyes"), came by the office to talk to my boss and, while he was waiting, said rather seriously, "kathryn, come sit down and talk to me." "sure, bob." i sat down next to him on the couch and waited for him to compose his thoughts. "now... why on earth is a girl like you single?" so much for getting my perspective on the budget crisis. i did what i always do and joked around the issue and then smiled and nodded while he gave me dating advice, and then said, "i think you're absolutely right!" so here's what i think, in a couple of weeks the congressman who might be challenging a certain senator in the primary is going to be coming into the office. and i figure i'll sit down with his campaign manager and have him/her give me some dating advice. and that is how i'll decide who to vote for.

if there is one thing i have learned in the last 3 years, it is this... thing i've learned #1: old people, like small children, thrive on routine. thing i've learned #1b: do not mess with their routine. so, random hypothetical, let's say you decide to go on your first vacation in, like, a year. and you're just going to be out of town for 3 1/2 days, but one of those days is a day of the week you usually visit a certain, semi-crazy old lady whose genetic material you share. well, you have just torn that old person's routine asunder and nothing , not even trying to visit in the morning, before you head to the airport, will set things right. thing i've learned #1c: when you break their routine, old people will try to destroy you using only their words. old person: do you think you'll still have a job when you come back? me: um, yes. because i'm good at my job. old person: i don't know. you're going to learn the hard way how important it is ...

how you know it's february. in utah. and also, you're me... you buy a season's pass to the local water park. and then you buy two new swim suits online. you get really excited about the free tea and hot cocoa at work. you go to mapquest.com and try and find out exactly how far south you could get in a day. you buy a bunch of seeds so you can get a head start on your gardening. you let the pile of sweaters in your clothes hamper get bigger and bigger because the next time you wash them you want to PUT THEM AWAY. you know exactly how many days there are until daylight savings. you spend at least 5 minutes every day trying to convince your sallow reflection in the mirror that the sun will come out tomorrow. yes, it involves singing the song. i don't like february.

the other day my boss had me deliver a gift to a senator he'd had a meeting with. that gift was a copy of the qu'ran. wait. have i mentioned that i work for an iranian billionaire? but that is not the story. this is the story. on this occasion i had the great privilege of meeting a racist black security guard.* and i don't mean "racist" like "he hated white people, " i mean "racist" like after i'd handed him my i.d. and laughed at his comments about my height because haha, good one, i am tall, he looked over to his friend the asian security guard and said, "man! my brain isn't working today! it's like i'm puerto rican." and the racist black security guard's friend, the asian security guard, laughed. i looked around for the rabbi and the priest and the lifeboat that i was positive had to be around somewhere. then, the racist black security guard asked me what i was holding. i said a gift from my boss to the senator...

well... turns out i AM employable. yep. i finally got a job a couple of weeks ago and if i weren't so afraid of jinxing myself, i'd go into specifics about how much i'm liking it so far because, seriously, it might very well be the exact job i've been looking for. but the jinx is real so i'm going to stay away from specifics. besides, i'd hate to become one of those "happy", "sunny", dare i say "shiny" bloggers who speaks earnestly, using words like "neat," and manages to write mostly in the third-person omniscient narrative (how DO people know what their spouses/children are thinking and feeling?), which, in my home would mean speaking on behalf of ziggy. or my grandma's ghost. which actually, yes yes, would be way cooler than what my blog is now. a taste... the other day before i left for work, i woke up ziggy from his mid-morning nap and said, "now ziggy, i'll be home by four o'clock. be good while i...

i'd like to tell you about something that happened to me during this, the year of our lord two thousand and eleven. but first, a warning. i am about to get very single on you. and also very mormon. i allow myself about one of these posts a year. i went speed dating a week or so ago. correction! 30 year old, single mormons can't admit that we need serious help interacting with members of the opposite sex and also we really can't even admit that we're single, so technically i went to something called "speed friending." it was as awkward as it sounds. i mean, for the most part it was fine. every time there was a pregnant pause between me and whomever i was supposed to be making small talk with for approximately two minutes, i would just ask the question on the sheet of paper i picked out of a bowl when i walked into the room (because us 30 year old, single mormons cannot even be trusted to our own small talk devices): "are you a beach,...

i have found that i can internalize, compartmentalize and even sometimes utilize stress but eventually it finds a way out of my brain and, if i'm lucky, the stress leaks out in insignificant ways that don't actually affect my mental well-being. what i'm saying is... i've discovered, like, ten 4-month sized grey hairs in the past week. don't worry, i feel fine. my hair's jumping on the stress grenade for me. i'm going to go make an appointment at the hair salon now. well, not "now" now. because it's 12:30 in the morning. but you get the point. ... leave me alone.

on christmas eve, my family had the ever-coveted "breakfast for dinner" dinner. it was fantastic. belgian waffles and this breakfasty casserole thing with eggs and hashbrowns and turkey bacon all mixed together and it was amazing. we were all feasting when mobro (i don't actually call him this but there's just no way i'm going to type " mo hammad, my bro ther-in-law" thirty-seven times. i'd get carpal tunnel syndrome.) got really excited all of a sudden and said, "look at all this tadich!" and then scraped the burnt edges of the casserole onto his plate. and ate it. showing incredible deference to cultures not my own, i asked, "what the crap are you doing?" and what the crap was he doing? well, i tell you. you see, there's this persian dish called tadich. and basically, it's the burnt rice that gets stuck to the bottom of the pot when you cook it. if you live in america, land of affluence and quarterpounders, you throw ...