Creating a distraction

Creating a distraction 2

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Reason number 439 why I am a terrible, terrible person.


The good news? He forgot all about the shoes I ordered off Amazon.

The bad news? Now I have to teach Jolie how to fake a limp.

(On a side note…can dogs even have panic attacks?)

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Meme the Taylors

Meme the Taylors 6

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I’m feeling a bit uninspired today, which is why I’m turning the tables and letting you come up with the dry humor, sarcastic reality TV references, and snarky photo captions.

In other words, it’s time to “meme” the Taylors.

(Oh…and for the one person reading this who doesn’t know what a meme is, it’s one of these….)

grumpy-catGod bless you, Grumpy Cat.

Below, you’ll find random photos from my iPhone of each Taylor family member. Leave your suggested meme captions in the comments section, and cross your fingers for good luck. I’ll be picking my favorite meme, and sending the winner a super-aweseome-yet-to-be-determined prize all the way from Maui next week.

(Unless you are allergic to macadamia nuts, in which case,  “super awesome” may  be the wrong term.)

I think that covers it. Ready, set….meme!


(Scott secretly snapped this photo while I was passed out on a flight to Phoenix.)




Going back for seconds at In-n-Out.



Hiding from our nieces and nephew in my overnight bag



Being lazy, but at least she’s not pooping in the guest room.


Random Jellyfish

While not technically a member of our family, I couldn’t help but include the gelatinous zooplankton I discovered this morning on the photo stream Scott and I share. I’m assuming he took this photo while we were visiting my Uncle’s beach house over the holidays…?

(Also assuming that this is in fact, a jellyfish. I’m about ninety-nine percent certain I’ve identified him correctly…but there’s definitely a small chance this could also be someone’s placenta.)


(Sorry, that was gross.)


The caption competition runs until Thursday at midnight, CST. I look forward to seeing what you come up with!

(And please…no placenta captions. I think we can all agree that one is more than enough.)


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The Runsie

The Runsie 1

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Everyone has anxiety dreams. Showing up to work naked. Forgetting you signed up for Earth Science until it’s time for the semester final. Being chased by a mountain lion and suddenly experiencing random leg paralyzation.

Or if you’re like me, these night terrors involve shopping.

Imagine walking into your favorite store. The racks are perfectly organized, and freshly stocked with a new shipment of product. Somehow, the store is bigger–filled with even more options than ever before. You’re favorite song is playing over the speakers, your best friend is there to cheer your on, and your wallet is locked and loaded with a fresh stack of bills from the ATM down the street. Also? Everything is on sale.

Yet somehow, nothing fits. You can’t find the color you like. There are too many choices and you feel overwhelmed. Panic sets in as you skitter from rack to rack, desperately searching for the perfect item. The harder you look, the more frustrated you become. Time is running out…you need to find something. But there is nothing you want!

This recurring nightmare–which I probably experience bi-monthly–came to life Saturday afternoon while shopping at the local Lululemon outlet.

There were yoga pants everywhere. A never-ending rainbow of sports bras. Scuba sweatshirts that were (gasp!) under one hundred dollars. I was in overpriced activewear heaven!

Yet by some mystery of the Canadian workout gear universe, there was nothing I even remotely liked. I must have gone through every rack three times, violently grasping pieces of luxtreme fabric, hoping to find “the one”.

An hour later, I found myself at the front of the checkout line, whipping out my American Express. While I hadn’t been united with my stretch pants soul mate, I’d at least stumbled upon something interesting. And with a price tag of only $34, I couldn’t say no.


36 hours later

Scott: Katrina — what’s up with this jumpsuit thing from Lululemon?

Katrina: Hey…are you going through my shopping bags?!

Scott: Is it….a unitard?

Katrina: It’s called a “Runsie”. And Reese Witherspoon totally has one.

Lululemon Runsie

So…I kind of made the Reese thing up for the sake of persuasiveness. But she totally SHOULD have one.

Scott: What the *@$# is a Runsie?

Katrina: A running onesie. Duh.

Scott: It sounds like some sort of adult diaper.

Katrina: Reese Witherspoon didn’t think so.

Scott: When are you ever going to wear this thing, Katrina?

Katrina: To CrossFit. Once I get rid of all my leg cellulite.

Scott: I’m not going to comment on that.

Katrina: The name is kind of weird. “Wromper” would have made more sense. You know, like “workout romper”?

Scott: {Eye roll}

Katrina: Or “Fumpsuit”.

Scott: Fumpsuit?

Katrina: Fitness Jumpsuit.

Scott: I can’t believe you spent thirty-four dollars on this thing.

Katrina: I know…right? A complete outfit from Lulu for under forty bucks — that’s practically unheard of!


I’m going to stop my recap right here as this is the point where things got a little bit ugly. Let’s just say our conversation took a turn for the worse when Scott discovered the Burt’s Bees lavender-scented dog perfume I had unsuccessfully tried to hide underneath the runsie.

(On the bright side, the girls now smell like a combination of corn chips and flowers.)

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Espresso yourself

Espresso yourself 5

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Making tough decisions is part of any marriage. Where should we move? Which house should we buy? Do we want children? How should we handle our finances?

It’s a partnership. A union of two people, coming together to debate, discuss, and ultimately, to decide. There will be sometimes friction, disagreements, possibly even a bit of yelling.  And almost always, there will be compromise.

Scott and I have faced our share of tough choices over the past seven years. Moving to New York for graduate school, relocating to Minnesota for Scott’s job, and finally buying a house certainly rank amongst the most challenging decisions we’ve ever made. Yet even these pale in comparison to the painstakingly impossible decision we’ve been wrestling with over the past few weeks.

Which espresso machine are we going to buy?

It’s no secret that Scott and I have differing opinions when it comes to coffee makers. Remember my beloved Tassimo he made me give up for adoption as the cups it used weren’t recyclable? (Insert eye roll here.) After several Katrina-style hissy fits, he ultimately agreed to purchase me a Keurig single cup coffee brewer to replace it — so long as I only used the refillable K-cups you put your own coffee grounds in, and composted the contents after each use. This system lasted for about a year before I arrived at two important conclusions.

  1. Constantly filling, composting, washing and drying those reusable K-cups is a huge pain, and takes away the entire “convenience” aspect of a single cup coffee brewer.
  2. My coffee tasted terrible. I used the finest ground espresso blend I could get my  hands on, and the coffee still wasn’t strong enough.

Not one to settle for weak coffee, I’ve been secretly buying “real” K-cups from Wal-Mart for the past several weeks. Scott looked the other way for a month or so, before eventually confronting me about the wastefulness of my coffee pod habit. It quickly became apparent the time had come to buy an espresso machine.

(I suppose having a husband obsessed with saving the planet isn’t all bad.)

Unfortunately, the selection process has been less of a fun shopping spree, and more of a heated debate. With so many options to choose from, Scott and I are having one heck of a time agreeing on “the one”.

Scott has insisted we opt for a machine that can be plumbed into our reverse osmosis water line, so he doesn’t have to constantly refill a water tank. I quickly pointed out that he doesn’t even drink coffee…so he wouldn’t have to fill the tank in the first place. I don’t mind refilling the water reservoir once a week, so the plumbing thing was a non-issue. Also? 99 percent of espresso machines aren’t even equipped to be hooked up to plumbing. The select few machines that are prepared to be “plumbed in” start at about five thousand dollars, and require being mounted on the wall like a major appliance.


In spite of putting my foot down several times, there is currently a man downstairs installing a second reverse osmosis system in our kitchen as I type this. He will then be drilling a hole through our concrete countertops for this ridiculous espresso maker to hook up to the osmosis tank. Not only is the entire charade costing an arm and a leg, the noise from the installation is making it incredibly difficult to concentrating on typing this coffee-fueled saga.

Did I mention Scott doesn’t even drink coffee?

Fortunately, I’ve found several articles online detailing how to take a regular old espresso maker, and plumb it into a water system yourself. Not only will this save a great deal of cash, it means I don’t have to buy a mammoth espresso maker and mount it on the wall like a freaking oven. Yay, compromise!

Unfortunately, the plumbing debate has only been half of the struggle. You see, I — the person who will actually be using this espresso maker in the first place — have my heart set on an automatic machine that grinds the beans itself, and doesn’t require one of those shot cups with a handle that you fill with coffee, and then lock into place before brewing. (I have no idea what these things are called, but Scott refers to them as “the clickety clack.”)

Scott: Absolutely not. The automatic ones have way more working parts than the old-fashioned ones. It’s so much easier for them to break down. We’ll spend a fortune on repairs.

Me: Oh, we will not. Plus, I don’t want to have to fill, compost, wash and dry that thing for each cup of coffee I make. It will be no different from those stupid reusable K-cups you sentenced me to.

Scott: You’re being dramatic. It’s so easy to fill those things and do it yourself. We’re getting one with a clickety clack.

Me: You don’t even drink coffee! I’m the one that has to use this every day, and I don’t want to deal with a clickety clack!

Scott: You’ll learn to love the clicketly clack.



The jury’s still out on which machine we’ll be ordering. It’s an appliance we plan on having for life, not to mention an investment of a couple thousand dollars.  This home brewing system — as wannabe yuppie ridiculous as it it– is a big decision, and I want to make sure we both feel good about it. (Translation? Over my dead body will a “clickety clack” be involved.)

Marriage is hard. Especially when there’s coffee involved.

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