What's a Croatian Girl Have in Common with her Father?

A beard and mustache!! Well, now I don't know if that's true of all Croatian girls, but I do know that it takes a lot of tweezing, waxing and bleaching to create the illusion that this Croat doesn't have a thick layer of facial hair extending from her hairline to her neck. It's not always pretty, and it's not something I'm proud of, but it's just my cross to bear.


I've been thinking a lot, recently, about the time my sister (I won't name names, just in case Robyn is embarrassed...oopie poo) waxed her legs. For those of you who don't know, in order to properly wax your body, you need to let the hair grow a bit. So that's what this sister did. She actually did that kind of frequently, let her leg hair grow out, that is. This particular brand of wax strips was clear and covered a three inch wide section, that could reach all the way from the knee to the ankle. It's been my experience that waxing products, often warn you to test the product on a small section of skin, to ensure your skin doesn't react to the wax, and maybe, just maybe to let yourself see how painful it will be. But this anonymous sister said "caution be damned", she "threw caution to the wind". Is that really what that saying is? Or is it "throwing caush into the wind"? The world may never know. Anyway, she applied every last one of those wax strips, covering both legs completely. She then began to RIP them off. She got about half way through one, and nearly passed out from the pain. Incapacitated, she called for me and Emily. We rushed to her room, only to find her holding her right shin, writhing in pain. Between gasps and choking sobs, Emily and I were able to ascertain that Robyn (oops, again!) wanted us each to grab a strip and RIP it off at the same time. So, the wax-covered sister sat on the ground, and 0n the count of three we yanked off three strips. Hairy sister cradled her legs up to her chest, and rolled from side to side howling in pain (don't think just because you've seen that scene from "40 Year Old Virgin", you know what this is like. You have NO idea that pain involved). After a few minutes she came to enough to let us have another go at it. She didn't count to three quite as fast this time. Her reaction was the same, and we were only about half way through. It didn't get easier, but we kept at it until we were done. And it was all worth it when Robyn (or whoever) didn't have to shave from the next 9 days.

Glimpse of Island Life

I was writing an e-mail to my friend, and thought I should post it over here. It's just a quick snapshot of what's been going on since I've moved to Maui, some 6 odd weeks ago. ENJOY!

Well, anyway, I moved to Hawaii. Yup, I've been living on Maui since November 6th. I bought a one way ticket, booked myself a hostel for 2 weeks, about a month before I left, and just jumped in with both feet. It's pretty awesome, and God and the Universe are taking GREAT care of me. I found a place to live my first week here. I live with a 20/21 year old couple. And let me tell you, it makes me grateful that I will never be 20 or 21 again in this lifetime! The boy (Sunny) is from the big island, but moved here with his mom when he lost his basketball scholarship/flunked out of U of Mass. The girl (Pauline) is from the Philippines, but moved here with her grandparents when she was 12 because her parents got divorced. I really should write a book! The month and a half I've lived with them have been non-stop hilarity! They eat my food and apparently have never been made to clean-up after themselves. I give them lots of slack, though, because they are just tiny little idiot children. The perfect anecdote that sums them up, is as follows:

I came home one day, and the living room was full of Sunny's friends. But Sunny was in the kitchen, and the ENTIRE KITCHEN FLOOR WAS COVERED IN BUBBLES! Sunny was using a shoe box to scoop up the suds and throw them out the window. "I think Pauline put in too much soap" he said. "What kind of soap did she use?" know full well that she did NOT use dishwashing liquid. "Dish soap" "Dish soap, or dish washer soap?" again, knowing what the answer was going to be "Uh... the orange soap." God bless him he didn't even know there was such a thing as dishwasher detergent. So, the next time all three of us were at the apartment I gave them a quick lesson on how to properly use the dishwasher. However, neither have run the dishes through yet. But that may be because the detergent has a child-proof lid.

I'm working on getting my certification transferred, but honestly not really working that hard at it. I will in the new year, though. In the mean time I'm a sub at St. Anthony's Catholic School. It's a great little community, and so long as I sub 6-7 times a month I make enough money to support my two-steps-away-from-abject-poverty-lifestyle, to which I've become so used to. When I'm not subbing I help out in the 5th grade classroom twice a week. Apparently there are some "high needs" kids in there. But they can all read and speak English fluently, and are able to sit and listen for 20 minutes or more, so I don't know what they're worried about. But I could see why not every student would thrive with this teacher. She's a big fan of, "let's all sit down and read from this textbook, then fill out this worksheet". It drives me nuts!! Aside from that, I swim in the ocean most everyday! I found that I LOVE snorkeling. I always see something cool! I don't really have any friends yet. I mean there is this one lady who I met at church, but she's like 60, and likes me because I remind her of her daughters who live in Florida. I don't hold it against her though, I probably like her because she reminds me of my mom a little bit.

As you can see, there's plenty of fodder for blog posts, but I'm just too busy looking as fish to write them down. I'll work harder to do better, because you guys deserve it!! Also, I kinda want to make this blog private... God forbid the idiot children find it!!

Aloha!!!!
Kate

Happy Thanksgiving to all!!

And here's hoping the Thanksgiving Squirrel gives you at least a few mini m&ms and Christmas themed post-its!

But seriously though, I have so much to be thankful for, and I'm grateful for a whole day just to reflect upon that!

XOXOX
Kate

Just In Case...

You don't regularly check the wall-to-wall between me and my sisters' facebook pages. Here's a little example of the stuff we say to one another. I seem to remember that I was on the phone with Brittany (Bunny) while this exchange was happening. We were talking about "cool" emoticons, and she REFUSED to tell me how she did a weird little half smile. But boy did I show her!!!

Me

♥

Me It works!!!!!!!
Brittany Sandbo ツ
Me ‎:P
Me ‎:(
Me oh shoot
Me ‎:/
Me ‎:\
Me ‎"/
Brittany Sandbo Just stop trying ツ
Me ‎")
Me TEACH ME!!!!!!!!!!
Me ツ
Me COPY AND PASTE LADY!!!!!
Brittany Sandbo Congrats
Me ツ
Me you ding dong!!!!!! ツ
Me ‎("/)
Me nope that's not it


Upon closer inspection of this conversation, I think I was far more interested in finding out how to make facebook emoticons... I wonder why I called her a ding dong toward the end there.

Aw SHUCKS!!

*Google image search result of "shucks"

The whole reason I posted that last post, was to share these misunderstood lyrics:

Song: Tubthumping
Artist: Chumbawamba

You may remember Chumbawamba. They were those British anarchists who wrote one heckofa catchy tune. I remember watching The Rosie O'Donnell Show, and seeing them in orange jumpsuits with rebel catchphrases scrawled across their chests, and thinking "YEAH!!! Maybe I will go out and steal that CD!!! That will show 'um!!!" Of course I was/am FAR too much of a rule follower to do any such thing. If you don't remember Chumbawamba, or 1997 (the year they ruled the world), here's a quick 7 and a half minute documentary to get you up to speed.

Actual Lyrics:
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You nay ever gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You nay ever gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You nay ever gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You nay ever gonna keep me down

What I thought they said:
I get knocked down, when rock 'n' roll began
You never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, when rock 'n' roll began
You never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, when rock 'n' roll began
You never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down, when rock 'n' roll began
You never gonna keep me down

Lyrics Really Can Be Tricky

Here's another edition of misunderstood lyrics:

"Pumped Up Kicks" by: Foster the People

My Version:
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my father.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my brother.

Actual Lyrics:
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

It's always fun when you realize your lyrics don't even have the correct number of syllables, and the song you thought was about looking out for your family is actually about a school shooting. Just kidding, it's not fun at all... but you knew that didn't you...



"1999" by: Prince
My Version:
If u didn't come 2 party,
Don't bother knockin on my door
I've got a line in my pocket,
And baby it's ready to roll

Actual Lyrics:
If u didn't come 2 party,
Don't bother knockin on my door
I got a lion in my pocket,
And baby he's ready 2 roar

I thought it was a drug reference. I know that you put some drugs in lines to use them, and you roll some. Combine those two and you have "1999" by: Prince


"Should've Been a Cowboy" by: Toby Keith
"My" Lyrics:
I should've been a cowboy
I should've learned to rope and ride
Wearing my sex shoe riding my pony on a cattle drive

Actual Lyrics:
I should've been a cowboy
I should've learned to rope and ride
Wearing my six-shooter riding my pony on a cattle drive

Now, these were not my misunderstood lyrics. However, it does lead me to wonder why someone who sang this song, this way, would agree to sing it in front of 300 summer campers. I guess the other voices might have drown out the mistaken vocalist. But many probably walked away wondering why she was pointing to her shoe, the way in which she was (how's the grammar on that last sentence?).

Thinking of Titles is Hard for Me.

Hello again to all my faithful readers (Mom, I'm talking to you!!!). As you may have heard, Imma be leaving this Pacific Northwest life, and heading to Maui!!! Why, you ask? There's lots of reasons.

1. Learn to surf
2. Get rid of all my socks
3. Adventure
4. Become a better blogger

I'm hoping that by getting out of my comfort zone, I'll be forced to evaluate things around me, and in so doing, be able to externalize those things in blog form. I'm also hoping I don't develop a foot fungus that requires a topical ointment, which would need to be covered by a sock (see reason 2, above). So you may see some changes on here. JKJKJKJK. I'm just gonna be more tan!

Although I'm SUPER stoked to be starting this adventure, I will be sad to be leaving my friends and family. The other morning, while eating Eggos on my Aerobed, in the playroom of my parents' house, I got to thinking of the quirky things I'll miss about living at home. I know what you're thinking. "Kate you already wrote a post about this!". To which I say "That's really rude! I'm getting nostalgic here!".

I've been trying to think of one story that encapsulates the sense of quirkiness that comes from living in the Sandbo household. Maybe I could tell about the time I couldn't find my toothbrush, and when I eventually found it and began brushing my teeth, Steve yelled "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY TOOTHBRUSH?!?!?!?!". Or this other time I couldn't find my toothbrush, and again, when I found it and began brushing my teeth, Steve yelled "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY TOOTHBRUSH?!?!?!?" And then my mother chimed in "No, that's MY toothbrush". Yup I shared a toothbrush with both my parents at one point in my life. Shared one with Steve TWICE!!!

However, both those stories are just a little too weird. I want people to know that we do the same things other families do, we just do them a little differently (I think the Sandbos should make that our Family Mission, and put it on our crest). So, here's a picture that subtly gets at that point.

Let me explain what's going on here. Above is a digital image of some coffee creamer. Now, in the past 10, maybe 20 years, creamer companies have developed and perfected a lid which flips open revealing a spout, which allows you to pour the perfect amount of creamer into your coffee (or whatever). But some people (S.L. Sandbo) are afraid that that lid won't keep their creamer fresh. HOW CAN A PLASTIC, CLICK TO CLOSE, LID KEEP YOUR DAIRY FRESH?!?!?!? They might wonder. Well fear not! In an attempt to keep people from secretly poisoning one another, there's a foil seal, under the lid, over the jug opening! So, if you're worried about cream freshness, just don't take that all the way off! Peel it back half way, and recover the jug after each use! Sure it will render the perfect pour spout useless, but who gives a rat's a$$ (one, Mr. Sandbo, might eloquently put it)?

So in closing, it's pretty plain to see that the things I'll miss the most about the Seattle area, are the things that make life a LITTLE more difficult, but a LOT more special!!!!

What's a girl gotta do to get a rinse around here!

I went to the dentist yesterday, and was reminded at just how awkward a place the dentist office can be. Below, please find a list of awkward things that have happened to me while having my teeth cleaned/fixed, etc.

• First of all, my hygienist didn't let me rinse my mouth the entire time she was using her needle-like tool to scrape my teeth clean. My throat, lips and very being were so dry. So, very very dry!!!
  
• Before yesterday, it had been 5 or 6 years since I'd been to the dentist, so you can imagine I was a bit gun-shy. They wanted to take my picture for my file, which leads me to an obvious question: What should one do with their hands while having their picture taken at the dentist. Mine went from straight down by my sides, to clasped neatly in front of me, to one hand on my hip, to in my pockets, all within a couple seconds.
  
• I announced my nervousness to the gal who took me back to the room, after she mentioned it'd been a while since my last appointment. She kind of cleared her throat and told me that my hygienist would be in shortly. If she could read the thought bubble above my head she would have known I was all like "YOU AREN'T MY HYGIENIST?!?!?!?! Good thing, cause you are way too uncomfortable with my apprehension." Also, it would have said "so, who are you?!?!?!"
• When the dentist came in to look at my teeth, he asked for my bite-something. I assumed he was talking to me, and eagerly chomped down. I only, very slightly, bit his finger as I saw that the dental assistant was pulling up my x-rays. So, the lesson here is that a "bite-something" is dentist code for x-ray.
• This reminded me of the time, 15 or so years ago, when my old dentist was looking at my teeth. I felt something foreign in my mouth so naturally I licked it, to try and use my sense of taste/touch to determine was it was. Turned out to be the old doc's finger. He recoiled in disgust, and from then on announced his every move before he did it!
• Then there was the time a young child was brought into my room while I was reclined having my teeth polished. My hygienist was chatting with him, so I assumed it was her son. The kid was cute and sweet, so when she turned to me and announced "what a cutie" I didn't think it was too prideful. She asked how old he was, at which point I realized people thought this was my son. The boy must have realized something was amiss, just about this time, and he got up wandered to the hall saying "that's not my mom". It was weird, and I don't know whatever became of that little boy, but I wish him all the best.
• And finally, I had to get a fake tooth once. My dentist's office had just gotten a new-fangeled machine that makes to fake teeth right in-house. The first tooth they made wasn't quite big enough, so they had to scramble to make a new one. After a few more hours I had my new tooth, bright shiny and polished! My dentist explained to me that they use a fine abrasive to smooth out the tooth once it's in your mouth. He then handed me the too small fake tooth to feel the difference. "Oh yeah!" I marveled. "Yeah," he said "you could lick it to really feel the difference". I can see where he's coming from. To get an accurate comparison I should use the same medium to measure the two. But, I don't know, maybe I could have used my finger to feel the tooth in my mouth. But hey, I'm no dentist.

Yup, dentist offices are funky. Thank you and God bless!!

Fun Things Steve Says

Steve: "I noticed last night that I have a lot of skin showing through on the back of my head. Is it true Kate?" (Poor fella's going a little bald)
Me: "No, I can't see anything"
Steve: "Don't lie Kathryn!"
Me: "No, really."
Steve: "Stop lying! You're going to look exactly like me in 10 years!!!"

Here's hoping, Steve-o.

Someday...

... I will be the kind of person who lives in a place for more than 8 months. And when I am, I won't have to spend the remaining 4 months as a nomad, dividing my time between summer camp, my parents' house, friends' houses, vacation rentals... mostly my parents' house. I will have you know, that this round of nomatisim (don't look this word up until I've had time to make a Wikipedia entry) I was able to stay at my parents' house for 3 weeks before Steve really figured out that I had moved back home! I was able to do this because ever time he asked me if I was living in the playroom, I would clear my throat and looses my collar, until everyone was sufficiently uncomfortable and the issue was dropped (j, sorta, k).


Anyway, spending time at home, especially during the summer, reminds me of all the fun I used to have spending time at home during the summer. I know, not a huge stretch, but meaningful none the less. I find myself, REALLY remembering the terrifying times I had at home. I don't think my childhood was more scary than the average American's, but the combination of my active imagination and the fact that my parents are mildly evil-spirited had a tendency to make one jumpy here at 12018.

Quaint terror house

Starting the summer I was 12, Anne and Steve (mom and dad) did something on our Blockbuster account, so that us kids could rent rated R movies. Maybe they did that so we could watch things like "Schindler's List", and talk about how one man could change the course of history, but we used the privilege to rent scary movies. Which, in turn, afforded my parents many opportunities to freak up the EFF out. A favorite prank, of my parents, was to leave the house when we were watching something like "Scream" (at the tender age of 12, 10 if you're Emmy, 9 if you're Bunny), and after an hour or so, sneak back into the garage and flip a circuit, cutting the electricity to the living room, while simultaneously using Steve's state of the art cell phone to call us on the kitchen phone. Us kids would scream and cry, and the 'rents would just laugh, and laugh and laugh. I remember this happening 4-10 times. Why didn't we learn?!?!?! Well, ladies and gentlemen, we were stupid, that's why! (FYI, the first time I wrote that sentence I wrote "studpid" instead of "stupid". Who knows. Maybe we were a little studpid too[Again, let me get on Wikipedia before you look that one up]).


It's no wonder us kids were a little gun shy. When a beautiful summer day turned into a dark stormy day, we were nervous. Certainly, mother and father were behind this somehow. When the thunder and lightening started, we weren't taking any chances! We turned off all electrical things (Imagine pants that would be soiled if Anne and Steve, or God, were able to cut the lights just as the thunder rolled), sat in the middle of the living room (safely away from any windows, like you do... we had also rented the Helen Hunt classic "Twister" that summer. It taught us a thing or two), pulled out the Sandbo Family picture bible( ), and began reading it to one another. God would never strike down three young girls, who were reading from the bible, NEVER. Similarly, if you have to go out to the garage to get a sody pop, you won't get a possessed if you quietly cry "I Love Jesus", also a very real fear of us young girls. And look at me now! It worked!!!!


I started this post, with the intention of telling you all about the time Emily and I thought we heard our neighbor being killed. However, I think I'll leave that for another post. Maybe on like, Saturday or something.


Good Night, God Bless!!!

Sorry to Leave Y'all Hangin'

But memoirs CAN be plural. Remember how I posed the question, some time ago? Ah, memories.

Thanks Mom!!!

With tomorrow being Mother's Day I thought I'd take a half hour and write a post about how wonderful my mom is. It it LITERALLY the least I can do. From previous posts you may have gathered how caring and creative my mom is. From creating a mythical woodland rodent, which brings night gowns to good little boys and girls on Thanksgiving, to surprising the three little girl with a trip to Disneyland (also a Thanksgiving treat). But ladies and gentlemen here generosity doesn't end on Thanksgiving. One summer I thought I found a treasure map, but before I had a chance to interpret the symbols, my lovely brother torn it up... by mistake I'm sure. Anyway, I took the shredded tear soaked paper to my mom, and THANKFULLY she was able to still see and interpret the symbols!!!!! What a blessing! So, my mom dutifully led me around the backyard. We went from the patio to the swing set to the poop yard to the tree house. Every now and again my mother would pause dramatically to decipher the code (did I mention the map was a manual for the video game Zelda? Cause I think it was). Eventually the map led us to a shady spot near a hole. Somehow, just as my mom drew my attention to a bird, three small hand fans appeared in the hole. As I'm writing this, I can't say I'm 100% sure this adventure wasn't led by my sister Robyn, or just a vivid dream, but if it wasn't my mom who did all that, it's sure as shoot something she WOULD have done!


More than anything I am grateful for my mom's unconditional love. I'm gonna let y'all in on a little secret. I was pretty dangum quirky growing up. Every kid goes through a quirky phase, but my phase went strong, starting around the time of my birth, until a year or two ago. This phase made things like appropriate birthday party behavior (so much more to tell about my birthday party behavior, as a kid) and NOT being overly emotional, very hard for me. Through it all, there was my mom. But, no. She wasn't just "there", she supported me 170%!!! When I wasn't allowed to be Pope at my 6th grade medievel festival, because the teacher wanted to remain true to the era (wonder what that teacher thought when I brought a plastic mug covered in brown paper for the feast), she signed the petition to persuade the teacher to change her mind. And when that woman wouldn't do it, she made me this handsome habit.

I am seen here with the boy who did get to play the Pope

I am so proud to say the support didn't end there. In 9th grade, when I brain stormed activities to beef up the college application I would be writing in four short years, Academic Games came quickly to mind (please watch at least the first minute of this clip. And post a comment telling me what you think about the only difference the guy found between Academic Games and the NCAA basketball tournament). Academic Games was social suicide, let's be honest. But my 14 year old brain could think of no other way to get into the college of my choice. Just look at me! Doesn't it look like being normal would be hard for me?

Unlike the youtube clip. My Academic Games team was horribly under-manned. EVERY SINGLE game we were forced to forfeit 100 points from the get go, because we didn't have a regulation sized team. Even so, can you guess who was front and center in the Rose Hill Jr. High Auditorium come game time (oh, yeah. We also lacked the funds and resources to do any away games, so we just forfeited those and played home games)? You guessed it... my mom! And who whipped out their calendar when the moderator gave the other team points for answering 6 months have 31 days? Yes, that again my friends, was my mom. It's her support, and my involvement in A.G that got me into Western Washington University, I'm just sure of it. So, in closing I guessed I'd like to just say I'm a lucky gal, to have the mom that I do!

PUMP IT UP!!!

I'm working on another, more in-depth, blog post. But until I finish that, here are two things I listen to, to get myself pumped for the day!!!! The first one I listened to a lot while working at Summer Camp. I had to get up around 5 most days to make breakfast for the troops. It's a cover, but they stay SO true to the original, you can sing along the first time you hear it. And the second one... I DARE you not to listen to it and not be totally JAZZED!!!

Buckets of Blood

That's what my mom's going to call the book she writes about a recent medical "incident" she encountered. You see, she awoke one night with blood GUSHING from her nose. Turns out it was a bleeding artery, and after nearly two weeks of extreme pain, misery, uncertainty, stress, etc. the doctor was able to stop the bleeding, cauterize it, and hopefully prevent it from ever happening again. So, my mom's on the mend (thank GOD... but seriously though). In those two weeks of my mom being in and out of the hospital, the rest of the family handled it like any other family would. With feigned cruelty, potty jokes and overall hilarity.

...I started this post, like, a year ago. I have NO idea where I was going with it, but how can I deprive the world of such an intro? Can any of my family members remember any of the potty jokes to which I alluded (my New Year's resolution is not to end sentences with prepositions). I feel like the past couple post have been a litty bit too bitty. But don't worry, I'm formulating posts on how great my mom is and how quirky Mass at a summer camp can be (is "be" a preposition?).

Cats be Crazy

There, I said it. I know it's a bit cliche, but cats are weird. I live with two cats right now, and they're okay. One did wake my up once by softly scratching my lip. And later that same day the other on ate my toast, but I don't hold it against them too much. I don't want to sully anyone's opinion of cats, but here is the life story of my nephew-cat (my oldest sister's cat), and you can decide for yourself if cats are on the list of top 10 weirdest things God invented.

Some time, let's say five years, ago, my sister Stephany (AKA Skull. No explanation necessary?) set about getting a cat. After an internet search she found just what she was looking for at a Humane Society in Longview, WA, one of the southern-most cities in Washington, and about a three hour drive from where she was living. The cat's name was Buster, and on the day Skull met him, she fell in love with him. The whole drive home she cried and talked to him, talked to him and cried. When she got him home, she immediately started doting on him, and started the process of changing his name. We started by calling him Bustercooper, and slowly dropped the Buster until he was just Cooper.

That little kitty was the apple of my sister's eye. She bought him the finest food and kitty litter, and walked him daily. That's right, she'd slip him in a halter and leash, and he'd slink beside her for the whole world to see! This is how it was for quite some time, but then things happened... life happened. My sister found herself busy with work and her beloved human nieces and nephew. Slowly but surely, something in Cooper snapped! Skull became a bit of a prisoner in her own house. It started by Cooper not being able to sleep in my sister's bedroom. Because, naturally, he would attack her in the middle of the night. Then, after the bedroom banishment, Cooper would lie in wait for Stephany to open her door, and when she did he would attack, aiming for the face.

After a year or so of living in constant fear, Stephany began transitioning Cooper to an "indoor/outdoor cat". That is to say she would let him out each day, with a feeling of indifference as to whether or not he came back. But he usually did come back. Sure, she would get reports from neighbors that Cooper was attacking children, but better them than her! So that's how it was for a while. Each morning Stephany would pry Cooper from her neck, and throw him outside, being sure to leave him some fresh water. Then, after work, she would shake some cat treats and he'd come running. The fresh air, and random attacks on children did wonders and cut the amount of eyes Skull had to sleep with open, in HALF (to one). But one day, Coop didn't come home. After a few days, Skull's laisez faire attitude gave way to fear. What if he had been killed on a nearby busy street? This fear was alleviated when she got a phone call. A phone call from a woman, informing her that she had been taking care of Cooper for the past several days, and if Skull wanted, she would take care of him permanently. Now, on principle alone, Stephany was NOT going to let this happen. So she met with this woman, who lives down the road a bit from my sister. Nice enough gal, of about 70. Her house is decorated with teddy bears and angel figurines. So, anyway, after some consideration, Skull decided that it might be best if Cooper spent his days with Gail (the elderly gal), and came home at night. Fewer attacks on Skull AND the neighborhood children. So that's Cooper's life to date. When he gets out in the morning he goes over to Gail's, or maybe the retirement home, lounges until Stephany picks him up each evening. I guess having Cooper is really a blessing for Stephany. I mean, if she didn't have Cooper she probably would never have to creep around a 70 year old woman's house, peering through each window, with 9-1 typed into her phone, just ready to dial the next 1 at the sight of an unresponsive/dead Gail. I can safely say she would probably NEVER worry about the well-being of her aging cat-care-taker, if it weren't for Coop. And we are all thankful that THAT is not the world in which we live.

Cooper with some sorry excuse for Santa Claus

4th of 6 Syndrome

As I've mentioned before, I make a big stink about being a middle child is a largish-type family, but for the most part it rules (I might even go so far as to say it rulez!)! I never have to worry about remembering my parents' anniversary, or extended family members' birthdays (that's the eldest's job), and I don't get constantly picked on by my older siblings (that's for Bunny).

I will say, there have been times when LITERALLY getting lost in the shuffle kind of stinks. Like the time Emily (the sister directly younger than me) accidentally got left at home while we all went out for ice cream. Or the time, when I was about 4, my mom forgot to give me breakfast, and I was so upset I hid somewhere, and no one noticed until after lunch when we had to go to an older kid's sporting event, and there was no time to get me something to eat. But don't worry, that night at dinner I emptied my plate onto my mother's, so she would HAVE to take notice of me... or something like that. I only mention that story in passing, I think my mom still feels a little bad about it, and that's not what I'm here to do! This blog is to build people up, NOT break them down! Speaking of, I'm still waiting for an internet compliment Brittany, but take your time, whenever you're ready.

ANYWAY, while my parents were off giving the squeaky wheels grease, I was happy as a clam getting lost in my own worlds (plural mind you. That is to say, I had MANY different imaginary places/characters I would escape to. Not completely unlike someone with multiple personalities) (Also, just let me know if ever I use too many parenthesis). Often times, I would sit in my room and practice my stage cry, or write screen plays about orphans, or think about things I was obsessed with, you know normal kid stuff. One such obsession was the violin. From a very young age I was fairly convinced that I was a prodigy, and I used to BEG my mom to let me riffle through a nearby dump for a violin. She never did (again, I'm not here to bring anyone down), but something almost as magical happened on my 11th birthday. My parents placed an advert in the classifieds (aka pre-internet craigslist), and on March 11, 1995 I finally got my violin!!! Unfortunately, the fiddle came sans lessons, so I had to teach myself. Which was is hard when you don't know what the strings should be tuned to, but by golly I'm a hecka determined person. I learned what I could from the Claudia character on "Party of Five", but I found I was a bit uninspired. UNTIL, I saw this!!!! If those kids could do it, so could I. I WOULD teach myself how to play "Gangsta's Paradise".

After a few painful hours, I figured if I put my pinky right where the neck meets the upper bouts on the skinniest string, and slide my bow back and forth in four choppy motions, then put my ring finger about an inch higher than my pinky on the next string and ripped by bow twice across it, then played my pinky string once more, and finished up with my ring finger and inch lower than my pinky on the next string, it REALLY sounded like what those kids from the video...to me... I wish I could somehow play an audio interpretation of what it sounded like, but I guess, for now I'll just use words, and it went a little something like this:

EEEEHH EEEEHH EEEEHH EEEEHH
UUUUH UUUUH
EEEEHH
EEEERRRR

It was pretty ear piercing, but pretty wonderful. I've tried to play it again since, on different violins, but since mine was never properly tuned, it's impossible to replicate. But, heck, we'll always have the memories.

In closing I would like to say, that I remember finding it SO poignant when Stevie Wonder and L.V (South Central Cartel's "Large Variety" aka L.V.) sing that there are, in fact, no gangstas living in paradise. Thank you Stevie and L.V.... thank you.

We've All Been There

Haven't we ladies and gentlemen? We think we know the words to a song, only to find out we were humiliatingly wrong! This usually happens to me when A.) I sing the song in front of a group of people for the first time, or B.) I quiet down for just a half a second to hear the actual artists' interpretation of their song (What can I say? When I have the slightest bit of confidence in the lyrics I LOVE to belt them out).

Here are a few examples from myself and others:

Actual Lyrics:
Each morning I get up I die a little
"Somebody to Love" by: Queen
Alternate Lyrics:
Each morning I get up by dialing
I though the song was about keeping in touch with friends, because they make the best match makers.

Actual Lyrics:
Celebrate good times COME ON!
"Celebration" by: Kool and the Gang
Alternate Lyrics:
Celebration time COME ON!
These lyrics can be very tricky, cause I've also heard it sung...
Celebrate the Taj MAHAL!

Actual Lyrics:
Like the deserts miss the rain. And I miss you
"Missing" by: Everything but the Girl
Alternate Lyrics:
Like the desert's Mister Angel. It's a missuse
I wish you could see how soulfully I used to sing this one

Actual Lyrics:
Bottoms up bottoms up!
"Bottoms up" by: Trey Songz ft. Nicki Manaj
Alternate Lyrics:
Bottles up bottles up!
You'd think the title would have given it away, but no.

Actual Lyrics:
And as I recall, I think, we both kinda liked it
"Breakfast at Tiffany's" by: Deep Blue Something
Alternate Lyrics:
Ah yes, now I recall, we both cannot hide it
I lost QUITE a bit of money, betting on the words to that song. Well, no, I don't think I ever paid up, because I'm still not 100% convinced my lyrics are "alternate".

Actual Lyrics:
So keep your love locked down, your love locked down
Keepin' your love locked down, your love locked down
I keep your love locked down, your love locked down
I keep your love locked down, you lose
"Love Lockdown" by: Kanye West
Alternate Lyrics:
So keep your love light on, your love light on
Keepin' your love light on, your love light on
I keep your love light on, your love light on
I keep your love light on, you lose
Again, you'd think the title would have clued the singer in, but I think these lyrics make the song so much sweeter.


Please excuse any discrepancies in the lyrics I've given and those which appear on the youtube videos... that's the internet for you!!!


XOXOX
Kate