Brace yourself

Brace yourself 2


A conversation on the way to work this morning…

Me: Your hair looks really nice today, Scott.

Scott: Yeah. I know.



Me: Heh. Too bad no one’s actually going to be looking at your hair today.


adult braces


Scott: Uh…look who’s talking, Katrina.


No–I haven’t started chewing tobacco. I DID however endure two hours of early morning dental torture.

Katrina: True. But my swelling will be gone by lunchtime. Those braces are on for twelve long months.

Scott: Maybe so. But when the swelling goes down your hair still won’t look as good as mine does.


Touché, Scott. Touché.


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My teeth may as well be made of gold at this point.

My teeth may as well be made of gold at this point. 2


Scott and I have been dropping a lot of cash on our teeth as of late.

I’m due to replace both of the crowns on my back molars, which have been in place for twelve years. In order to maximize my dental insurance coverage, I’m only replacing one per year–but will still be paying over a grand out of pocket for each procedure. While I keep trying to put this unpleasant experience off, my dentist kindly reminds me that my right crown fell off five years ago, and is currently held in place with nothing but glue. (I didn’t have dental insurance at the time and was able convince a local dentist to glue it back on, praying it would hold. It has…but I think I’ve tempted dental fate long enough.)

So, phase one of that little party will be going down on Monday. I’ve been told it can take upwards of two and a half hours.

Then there’s Scott.  Inspired by Tom’s Cruise awkward endeavor of 2002, he’s getting braces this Thursday. Add another $1,300 to the ever growing oral health tab–and that’s just the down-payment. The silver lining? At least we’ll get a few funny pictures out of the deal. (I may or may not be cooking up a braces-themed Christmas card.)

And let’s not forget the girls. One of the downsides of owning small dogs is that they have terrible, terrible teeth. Jolie’s already had eight pulled. Both girls are long overdue for a cleaning, which will undoubtedly require anesthesia on account of their fear-induced squirliness.  I’m sure the vet will also find a petrified piece of underwear back there or something, which will probably set us back an additional several hundred dollars. There goes Scott’s Christmas bonus!

As if these three expenses weren’t enough of a hit to our wallet, this happened on Wednesday:



Where do I even begin?

It was approximately 3:00, and Jolie and Penny needed to be taken outside for a bathroom break. While I typically allow them to roam leash-free in the yard, I had spotted a bald eagle earlier in the day and didn’t want one of them to get snatched up. Leashes and harnesses it was.

Being that I was in the midst of a heated game of Words With Friends, my iPhone had to come with as well. Picture two leashes with wriggling dogs who are surprisingly strong for their size and a smartphone in only two hands.

And then, it happened.

I noticed my shoe was untied. Under normal circumstances I would have set the leashes down, but our neighbor’s hunting dogs were out, and both of the girls were ready to rumble. I suppose I could have rested the phone gently on the grass…but it was damp, and I didn’t want to risk losing my phone to water damage…again.


Yeah…I have a history with this sort of thing.

But back to last Wednesday. In a pathetic attempt to juggle all of my belongings, I shoved both leashes into the crook of my armpit, held the phone between my teeth, and bent down to fasten my shoelace. As I stood up to collect myself, the phone fell from my mouth, face down into the grass. When I picked it up, this is what I saw:


The iPhone couldn’t have fallen more than a foot and a half…and the patch of grass it landed on was free of any sharp, or even slightly hard objects. The only logical explanation?

My teeth are so incredibly strong, they cracked the screen due to their bionic strength and supernatural sharpness.

In other words, I have to buy a new phone tomorrow.

(And no…it won’t be covered under dental insurance. I already checked.)


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The Jamæsel Monologues

The Jamæsel Monologues 14


Last November, I introduced you to Jamæsel — a sassy German fashion designer Scott created out of boredom while I was attempting to watch the latest episode of Project Runway.

Little did I know that Jamæsel was here to stay. He’s quickly become Scott’s alter ego, if you will.

Jamæsel has since been spotted dancing at the local bowling alley in a vintage fur coat, accosting small children for wearing mismatched stockings, and openly criticizing women (and their hairstyles) in the self checkout line at Wal-Mart.

But you can’t truly understand the enigma that is Jamæsel unless you see him live and in person…which is precisely why on the night of Scott’s 31st birthday, we created this video to share.

You’re welcome.

Special thanks to Scott for risking his reputation as a medical professional. He’s graciously allowing me to post this in a public forum where it is quite likely some of his patients may come across it.

Although if I were seeing a provider regarding the appearance of my skin, I’d definitely trust a self-absorbed, mink-wearing, European fashionisto more than a regular old doctor. Just saying.


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Fat Kid Status

Fat Kid Status 16


I had a really tough time deciding what to write about today. I’ve been spending my evenings this week slaving over a video I’ll be sharing tomorrow, (cough!…cough!…Jamæsel interview!…cough!) and have been lacking additional creative inspiration as a result.

Just as I was about to throw in the blogging towel, I remembered this post from Emily over at Cupcakes & Cashmere. Her “Food Fantasies” entry chronicled a hypothetical day of eating whatever she liked. I’ve been wanting to do my own spin on this concept ever since…but for whatever reason, never got around to it. (Something tells me my inner-psyche resisted sharing my food porn on the internet for fear of judgement.)

“Fat Kid Status” not only provided me with a topic to write about…it’s also proved to be oddly therapeutic. I’m leaving for Australia in less than a month, which means my diet has been cleaned up in preparation for strutting around the Whitsundays in this ridiculous Lisa Frank-esque swimsuit I purchased during a serious lapse in judgement last week. So, while I can’t really eat any of these things for a while, nothing’s stopping me from making Photoshop collages of them while daydreaming about butter, right?





I couldn’t decide between a Monte Cristo Sandwich and the glorious French Toast at Bastille, so I decided to just enjoy half of both. Kidding –I’d totally devour entire portions of each dish. My sugar carb-fest would be washed down with a bottomless mug of Stumptown coffee. With just a splash of cream, please.



An apple fritter the size of my head from a Safeway grocery store. I don’t care what anyone says…Safeway makes the best apple fritters in the world. And no…I wouldn’t eat the apple in the back of that photo. It’s just for decoration. Although to get my serving of fruit in I’d try my best to nibble the orange slice garnish on that mimosa. See? I’m totally health-conscious.



Ceviche. The more citrusy the better. Chips, salsa, guacamole, and a big ol’ bottle of San Pellegrino. ‘Cause I’m fancy.



Maui Onion Mac nuts to feed my salt craving. Almond Roca candies for my sweet tooth. (Never tried Almond Roca? They’re created in my hometown of Tacoma and are kind of the best candy in the universe.) And some Seattle-brewed Dry lavender soda. Mmmm.



Fresh lobster. (When you’re creating an imaginary food day, “Market Price” is not an issue.) Brown butter parmesan gnocchi and brussel sprouts cooked in bacon grease. See? I eat vegetables. (Take that, food pyramid!)

And champagne. Because ingesting all of this delicious food without…you know…dying is something worth celebrating.



This was by far the most difficult decision. I’m essentially the real life version of Buddy the Elf…I could easily live of a diet of maple syrup and peanut butter cups for the rest of my life. But if I had to pick just one sweet treat, it would be a mammoth slice of key lime pie.

As for the Pepto Bismol…I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.


What would your “Fat Kid Status” look like? Anyone else have an apple fritter problem? (I was this close to including those pink and white frosted animal crackers on here…but even I have limits.)


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