Daily Life

13 years of coffee ¹²

I have vivid memories of my mother preparing coffee for my grandparents when they would come visit us in Alaska. The sight of my beloved Grandma Margaret in curlers frightened me to tears (literally) and the fragrant aroma of her morning joe only made matters worse. Once I realized it was actually her underneath those terrifying foam rollers, I mustered the courage to ask “Why do you drink something that smells like poop, Grandma?”

My, how things have changed.

As a Norwegian Lutheran raised in Seattle, my love affair with coffee was pretty much inevitable. Yet as I sipped on my Venti Americano at the Seattle Airport last week, it suddenly dawned on me that I’ve come a long way in regards to my java preferences. Let’s take a caffeinated journey down memory lane, shall we?

2000

My high school opens up a coffee cart. (Yes, when you live in the Pacific Northwest, high schools have coffee carts.) I collect spare change from around my house until I have $3.00 saved for a Peach Italian Soda…extra whip cream, of course.

(When you’re sixteen-years-old and have the metabolism of a hyperactive chihuahua, you always get extra whip cream.)

2001

I decide to venture out of my sugary comfort zone and try actual coffee–in the form of a $2.50 mocha from the local parking coffee kiosk. Parking lot coffee kiosks are a trashy (yet kind of awesome) trademark of the Pacific Northwest. They’re on every single block in my hometown of Tacoma, and are basically miniature drive-thru sheds that provides affordable mocha’s, smoothies, latte’s–even the occasional sexual favor!

I like to think of them as Starbucks’ inbred second cousin who wears daisy dukes and drinks orange soda for breakfast.

2002

I stumble upon the Tacoma Mall Starbucks on a Saturday with friends. Naturally, a Venti Caramel Frappuccino is ordered. I quickly realize that the $5.00 Mom allocated for lunch at the food court is much more wisely spent on 20 ounces of frozen, sugary status in a cup! (Little did I know my drink had just as many calories as the fish and chips I was planning on ordering in the first place.)

After five minutes of slurping, my head feels as if it’s blinking. I assume it’s from the caffeine, but don’t really care as the green logo on my cup makes me look like I’m the newest member of Destiny’s Child.

Alright…maybe that’s a bit of a stretch.

Still, the Frappuccino quickly becomes my mall indulgence of choice. On the days when I don’t have the cash, I simply order a big ol’ water, purely so I can be seen with the logo printed cup.

Destiny’s Child, here I come.

2003-2006

The college years. Believe it or not, I actually made it through undergrad without coffee.

Trust me…I’m as shocked as you are.

2007

Graduate school. The occasional trip to the Starbucks across from campus is made. Luckily, I’ve graduated to dirty chai lattes at this point. (Latte with a splash of chai tea. It’s still one of my favorite treats.)

2009

Scott and I return to the land of milk and ~~honey~~ espresso. You may know it as Seattle. As luck would have it, there’s a Starbucks across the street from our condo. Not to mention seven other coffee shops, all of which are incredibly delicious and swanky looking. While working from home, my two drinks a day habit begins. The following beverages plan an integral role in my day-to-day rotation:

Skinny Caramel Macchiato* (when I’m being “good”)
Salted Caramel Mocha (when I’m being “bad”)
Soy Cappuccino (when I’m attempting to cut out dairy)
Skinny Coffee Frappuccino (an update from my mall rat days that has less sugar and calories)
Pumpkin Spice Latte (when I’m feeling festive)
Lemon Loaf and/or Apple Fritter (I know it’s not technically coffee…but they’re so good, I felt they deserved and honorable mention.)

*Yes…I capitalize the name of my coffee drinks. They are that important.

2010

I begin a new job that requires commuting to an actual office. Obviously, my daily ritual of stopping at Starbucks on the way in is absolutely vital to my happiness and productivity. Add to this the weekly Starbucks runs with coworkers, and things begin to spiral out of control. To make matters worse, I get hired to teach Turbo Kick and Boot Camp at the Starbuck’s Corporate Headquarters “Java Gym” for employees. Like a moth to the flame, I go to desperate measures to feed my addiction before and after classes.

Translation? 2010 was the year I spent an estimated $1,400 at Starbies.

(It’s way easier to do than one might assume.)

2012

Scott and I relocate to ‘Sota.

To a town with no Starbucks.

You can read about my green mermaid withdrawals here, here and here.

Present Day

While Smalltown has since acquired a Stargetbucks, I rarely ever go there. Truth be told, I actually prefer Caribou Coffee or Dunn Brothers. Even then, it’s pretty rare that I choose to caffeinate at an actual coffee shop. Turns out that when you work from home and aren’t in walking distances of overpriced lattes, leaving the house for coffee is more of a chore than a treat. Now that I have my trusty Keurig, making coffee myself is the highlight of my morning.

Sure, I still hit up Starbies or Caribou from time to time…but it’s usually when I’m on a road trip or at the airport. And forget about lattes…I now take my java black and strong. An Americano or drip coffee suits me just fine. Perhaps the cold Minnesota winter was responsible for this change in palette? Or maybe I’m just slowly morphing into my Grandma Margaret? (Minus the foam rollers, of course.)

Katrina’s new rules of coffee:

The darker the better. Blonde roast? No thanks.
Always with a splash of cream. Not whole milk, soy, or almond milk. Good old cream. You only live once, right?
Two cups every morning. No more, no less.
I grind whole bean coffee (Starbucks Caffe Verona is my current fave) myself in our Blendtec. It grinds the beans finer, so I end up using less coffee per cup.
I save my cash (and the environment) by putting my grinds in these Cafe Cup Reusable Single Cup Pods. They were a gift from my mother-in-law last Christmas, and work so much better than the more expensive Keurig version. I think she got them at the dollar store.

It’s amazing what time can do for one’s coffee preferences. A good friend of mine–who happens to manage a Starbucks–swears he can tell so much about a person by their drink order. I’m not quite sure what my Venti Americano with a splash of cream says about me…but I’m secretly hoping it involves Destiny’s Child.

What’s your favorite drink? And do you make coffee at home? Or hit up a fave coffee spot everyday? If anyone’s in the market for a Keurig, I’ve been the proud owner of this model for nearly a year and am completely smitten.

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The Infection ⁶

Leave it to me to adopt a dog with a raging yeast infection.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

****

A wise person once told me that “dogs are the new kids”.

Fine…I think I saw it on a t-shirt somewhere…but it’s always stayed with me. As someone who may or may not ever have children, Jolie (and now Penny) truly are my babies. In fact…in some ways my four-legged offspring are even better than babies. Here’s why:

I can leave them in the car unattended so long as I crack the windows.
When we fly, It’s socially acceptable to have them drugged and store them as carry-on’s under the seat in front of me.
I can toss them in the basket on my bicycle and ride around town while being seen as ‘cute’ instead of ‘irresponsible’.
They have tails.
I can drink three margaritas while snuggling with them, and no one will think less of me.
When I drop half a chicken breast on the kitchen floor and Scott steps on it with a muddy boot, it’s totally okay to feed it to them .
They’ll never get pregnant out-of-wedlock (both have been spayed) (and dog’s can’t get married anyway, right?)
Despite being full-grown, they can sleep in bed with me and it’s not at all creepy.
I’ll never have to change their diapers. (Or put money into their college fund.)

Sure…my two little fur babies might not enrich my life in the way an actual child would…but they are so much easier to take care of.

Or so I thought.

The night we brought Penny home, I noticed she was itching her ears more than normal. She didn’t want me touching them, and when I was able to get close enough to make contact, she’d let out high-pitched yelp.

“I think she has a double ear infection.” Scott remarked. “You should probably take her to the vet.”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” I remarked. “Let’s just wait it out and see what happens.”

Then, I noticed her ears smelled strongly of bacon. Bad bacon. Twenty-four hours later, we were sitting in the waiting room of the Smalltown veterinary clinic.

The Doctor looked her over and seemed doubtful that anything was wrong. “Her ears look fine,” he observed, “I think she may just be an itchy dog who doesn’t like her ears touched.”

I rolled my eyes. Scott had overreacted once again.

“Let me just take a look inside those ears with my scope…just to make sure.” the Vet offered. I nodded in agreement, mentally tallying up how much this completely unnecessary vet appointment was going to set me back.

And then he said it.

“Hmmm. It looks really goopy in there.”

Alright. So maybe Scott hadn’t overreacted.

After gathering some cultures and peering under the microscope, Penny’s diagnosis was announced.

“She has a yeast infection in her left ear, and a yeast and fungal infection in her right ear. I never would have known without the scope, but it looks pretty bad. I’m guessing it’s been festering in there for quite some time.”

I suppose that would explain the bacon smell.

I was instructed to put medicine in Penny’s ears once a day for the next week, and clean her ears twice a week for at least a month. “I’ll show you how to do it.” the Vet offered. He then filled her ears with a clear solution, and massaged them for a few seconds.

“You’re going to want to do this in the shower,” he warned. “She’s going to shake her head and stuff will come flying out.”

Two seconds later, he removed his hands from Penny’s ears. As expected, there was lots of shaking.

What wasn’t expected was the quarter cup of black stuff that came flying out of Penny’s ears and splattering across the walls of our exam room. It literally took the nurse five entire minutes to scrub the residue away.

Before wiping away the very last stain, she paused to comment. “It kind of smells like….”

“Bacon?” I suggested.

She slowly nodded before tending to the last glob.

I can honestly say that for the first time in my existence as a dog mom, I would have much rather been changing a diaper.

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The Fab Five: June 2013 ¹

Lately, I’ve become quite enamored with Emily over at Cupcakes and Cashmere. Emily’s lifestyle blog documents her perfect life in perfect sunny California where she’s always donning the perfect outfit and writing perfect blog posts (complete with perfect photos) without a single grammatical error.

And she still finds time to make corn on the cob cupcakes.

I, on the contrary find myself in rural Minnesota wearing a pair of faux leather leggings and mismatched hoodie as they were the only things clean this morning. Yesterday I forgot how to spell the word “lobster”. I’ll probably never make corn on the cob cupcakes (only because I would eat the entire batch in one afternoon while watching ‘Property Brothers’) and have made the controversial life choice to forego brushing my hair today.

Sorry, Emily.

Still, I can’t help but think of myself as the less classy, albeit somewhat more accessible version of Emily. I have knowledge and advice to offer the world! Sure…that advice may be how to build snuggle traps out of unlaundered blankets…but it’s advice nonetheless!

Long story short, I’m totally ripping off Emily’s “Five Things” concept, in which she shares five random items she’s been enjoying as of late. I’ll be calling it, “The Fab Five” in order to avoid a copyright infringement lawsuit.

I’ll attempt to share my Fab Five once a month…but much like the elusive corn on the cob cupcakes, I can’t guarantee I’ll actually do it. Still, it’s worth a try, right?

Without further ado, my favorite ‘ish for June 2013.

1. MarketSpice Tea

This delicious loose leaf tea originates from the Pike’s Place Market in my hometown of Seattle. Ironically, I was never aware of the magical beverage until I was back in Washington over Easter. They’ve been making this stuff since the 1960′s and is famous across the globe. I believe it even won a “Best Tea in the World” award or something…but don’t quote me on that.

Since discovering this delightful concoction, I’ve been brewing at least two glasses a day. It’s pretty much the healthy, socially acceptable tea version of crack cocaine. I’ve shared it with several friends who have also become equally addicted. I highly recommend the loose leaf version, but it’s also available in teabag form.

2. Swedish Mesh Tea Ball

Clearly, I’m passionate about my tea balls.

I’ve only had this bad boy in my possession for three days, but am already in love. It’s perfect for brewing a single cup of loose leaf tea, and is ridiculously easy to fill, use and clean.

I’ve also had fun trying to hypnotize the dogs with it pendulum style. (So far no luck, but I’m not throwing in the ~~towel~~ tea ball just yet.)

3. Printstagram Poster

I’ve been slowly collecting new pieces of furniture and decor for our big move to the new house next month. One thing I’ve been trying to get away from is a dwelling space that’s packed to the gills with framed photos of friends, family, the dogs, and let’s face it…myself. This easy to make poster was the perfect solution! For just twenty-five bucks, Prinstagram detected my Instagram photo feed, let me select my 96 favorite snapshots, and printed them on a glossy 20×30 poster in a sleek and stylish grid format. I popped it into an affordable poster frame from Target, and voila! Photos of all my favorite people (and dogs) in a streamlined, modern alternative to a hallway full of awkward portraits from the JC Penny photo studio.

I think Emily would totally approve.

4. Vintage washboard

Speaking of furnishings for the new house, I discovered this antique washing board at my parents home in Tacoma last week. I was digging the old-fashioned, industrial vibe, and asked if I could transport it back to ‘Sota so I might hang it on a wall somewhere. While I assumed it was simply one of Mark’s forgotten garage sale treasures, my Mom informed me it used to belong to my great-grandmother who lived in…wait for it…Two Harbors, MN! Returning the washboard to its homestate felt so appropriate, and I can’t wait to showcase it in our new place. Here’s to family heirlooms that double as chic decor!

5. Swedish Dishcloths

Dishcloths are semi-dirty in this photo. (Sorry, Emily.)

Turns out the Swedes don’t just make hypnotic tea balls…they’ve got a share of the dishcloth market as well! I picked these up at the PLU Bookstore back home, but Amazon has a variety of patterns and colors to choose from.

The best part? These dish cloths are totally firm and rigid until you get them wet, at which point they are capable of absorbing 15 times their weight in water. They firm up to their original state once dry. Basically, they’re like those magic pills that turn into dinosaur sponges when submerged in water…just for adults who have to be responsible and you know…actually clean things.

********

Psst! I’m heading to L.A. for a much needed girls trip tonight! Witness my California shenanigans over on Instagram!

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Eating her feelings ⁷

My worst nightmare is coming true, you guys.

No, HGTV hasn’t cancelled Property Brothers, nor did Channing Tatum decide to name his newborn daughter after me. It’s far, far worse than either of those.

You guessed it.

Jolie is getting fat.

Jolie the chipin, licking up peanut butter

Jolie, at her heaviest. (8 pounds)

To be fair, Jolie hasn’t simply decided to let herself go out of laziness. The past few days have revealed that much like her mother, the snuggle pooch is a full-blown stress eater.

The source of her newfound anxiety?

Miss Penelope Taylor

We brought Penny home on Sunday night, and things have been going fairly well. She’s an incredibly sweet, timid dog, and seems to get along with our temperamental chihuahua as well as can be expected. Jolie hasn’t tried to bite her once, which is monumental progress for the angriest chihuahua in all of ‘Sota.

Believe it or not, they’ve even snuggled on the bed together a few times. I keep trying to document this phenomenon with my iPhone camera, but as soon as Jolie sees me whip it out, she leaps from the bed to find solace in one of her secret hiding spots. Heaven forbid photographic evidence gets out that suggest she actually approves of another dog.

Perhaps even more shocking than Penny and Jolie’s secret snuggle sessions is the fact that I’m finally able to leave the apartment without crating Jolie. (Or bringing her with me.) Prior to Penelope’s arrival, Jolie didn’t do well when left home alone. Her extreme separation anxiety would cause her to wait at the door for hours on end, yelping miserably for us to return home. According to our not-so-happy neighbors, she would beller uninterrupted for hours on end. On a couple of occasions she dug at the door with such vigor, her paws were covered in blood when we found her a few hours later.

And then there was the poop.

Jolie’s impeccable housetraining habits flew out the window the minute Scott and I exited the apartment. Her fear of abandonment would result in several little presents left on the carpet when we returned home. We’d notice them immediately as upon entering our unit, she would lead us to them herself while violently shaking and whimpering as if to apologize.

Crating seemed to solve all of these problems. There was no more digging, no more pooping, and when she did yelp, the noise was contained in a back room . Eventually, Jolie actually looked forward to chilling in her crate when it was time for Scott and I to go somewhere.

Since bringing Penny home, Scott and I have experimented with a crate-free environment each time we leave. Much to my surprise, I returned to the apartment after running some errands yesterday to discover two little doggies sound asleep on our bed. There was no waiting at the door, no yelping…not even a speck of feces! When I entered the bedroom, Jolie slowly awoke and glanced up at me as if to say, “Oh…you were gone?”

Yet with significant progress comes major resistance. Jolie is extremely territorial of her food, and unleashes a vicious snarl the instant Penny trots within three feet of the doggie dishes. Jolie has also been eating every last ounce of Penny’s food, to the point where she looks even more pregnant than Jessica Simpson.

“She’s eating her feelings.” Scott remarked as Jolie snarfed her third Greenie Treat of the day.

On the contrary, Penelope has been experiencing the opposite problem. The stress of a new environment has completely vanished her appetite. She won’t even come close to touching her food, even if Jolie is stowed away in another room.

Alright. That’s not entirely true. She has no problem gobbling up Scott’s ridiculously expensive free-range, nitrate-free turkey meat from Whole Foods. Or my all-natural, organic peanut butter. Apparently, Penelope is a bit of an all-natural foodie.

But actual dog food? Forget it. We’ve tried no less than three different kinds with the same results. Even when we mix in the turkey and peanut butter, she’s not interested. Scott keeps assuring me she’ll eventually get hungry enough to eat…but I can’t help but worry she’s developing a Portia de Rossi circa 2001 eating disorder.

(Jolie on the other hand is pulling a major Kirstie Alley.)

Here’s hoping the girls can get their eating habits in line before I’m forced to call Dr. Phil for a live television intervention or something.

(And also that Property Brothers is never ever ever cancelled.)