Jobs

I promise this is the last post about Sheila. (At least for a while.) ³

When it comes to fashion, I tend to be a bit extreme. I’m either dressed to the nines, or schlepping around in a pair of sweatpants that may or may not have half a dozen condiment stains on them. Lately, I’ve been guilty of the latter. Can you blame me? I’ve had an exhausting schedule at work, plus I teach five group exercise classes a week which leaves me covered in sweat half of the time, anyway. This means I’ve been finding it challenging to muster the motivation to look presentable, which has resulted in me showing up to work video conference calls looking a little something like this.

Uh…it was casual Friday?

Fine. This was taken on a Wednesday. (At least I had the decency to Photoshop my three giant pimples out of this photo. I think I deserve a little credit, people.)

Unfortunately, this has not been the only video conference mishap to occur as of late. Take last week, for example, when despite showing up for a meeting dressed in my Tuesday best, I forgot to make sure my backdrop was prepped and ready for a professional meeting.

Oh, heyyyyyyy, Sheila!

Luckily, I was only a mere ten seconds into the call when I realized my favorite armless woman had decided to crash my morning meeting. Thank goodness the meeting was with a coworker who also happens to be a good friend. She giggled uncontrollably through the entire process of me, moving Sheila to a more appropriate location, before continuing with our business.

The following day, I decided to relay the story to another close friend whom I work with.

“Oh, yeah.” she casually responded. “That mannequin was there for, like, a couple of days I think. I definitely noticed it but didn’t even think to say anything.”

Oops.

I spent a good sixty seconds creating a mental list of colleagues who had potentially seen Sheila in all her C-cup glory over the past forty-eight hours.

Eventually, I stopped trying to remember. It would be far less painful to pretend it never happened and erase my accidental lapse in professionalism from my brain for good. Ignorance is bliss, right?

The good news? I’ll be back in my Seattle office next week, which means no more Skype snafus. (Hopefully Sheila doesn’t decide to tag along and flaunt her curves during any more meetings. Something tells me it might damage my professional credibility.) This also means I’ll be forced to get dressed everyday, which is going to be a much-needed change in my morning routine. It’s been two months since I’ve worn a pair of heels…that’s just depressing on a variety of levels.

Here’s the part where I reveal that I’ll be taking a miniature Blog-cation while I’m gone. I’ve decided that spending my evenings catching up with coworkers, friends and family takes priority over whining about the airport or detailing the bizarre garage sale gifts my father always has in store for me. So, I’m taking a week off from posting.

That being said, I won’t be totally disappearing from the blogosphere. Because there’s no knowing when the next time I’ll consecutively dress myself for five days in a row will be, I’ll make sure to update the fashion page on a daily basis. It’s kind of pathetic (yet also kind of marvelous) how much time and energy I’ve put into planning each of my “in-office” outfits.

(Hint…there’s an obnoxiously bright pair of floral pants involved.)

(Which might actually be worse than rolling into a meeting with a naked mannequin, but I simply can’t resist a good pair of statement trousers.)

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30 Days of Thanks

Proms and Moms ²

I don’t mean to brag, but this post is kind of a big deal.

Today, my mom is graduating from college!

My mom and I at my college graduation in 2006.

My parents are nearly 12 years apart, and got married while my mom was still in undergrad. A few years later they had me, and moved to Minnesota (yup, this wasn’t my first move to ‘Sota!) a few weeks after I was born so my dad could start graduate school. For the last 28 years, my mom has been just one semester shy of earning her bachelors degree.

She also suffers from Lupus, a debilitating auto-immune disease she was diagnosed with in her early thirties. Doctors told her she would never be able to work, not even just part-time. As a stay-at-home mom to four kids (who are only four-and-a-half years apart!) her health, fatigue, and constant pain were a huge hindrance to her duties at home. I can’t even begin to imagine the weight of the discouragement she experienced, yet I do know there were many times she feared she would never get better.

It took many years, and a great deal of experimentation with her treatment and medication, but eventually, mom proved her doctors wrong. She was able to work full-time for the first time since college, sharing her abundance of patience and kindness with special needs children as a paraeducator.

But mom wasn’t stopping there. Not a week after my youngest brother Janss had graduated with his bachelors degree, she registered for her first semester of classes at Evergreen State University. Twenty-eight years later, she was finally going back to college, while continuing to work full-time.

Today, after countless hours of studying, thousands of words written, and even a creative writing interpretive dance class, she has finally earned her bachelors degree.

And I couldn’t be more proud.

Or maybe I could…?

A conversation from last week…

Mom: Oh! Guess what!

Me: What?

Mom: Your Dad and I are going to the Senior Prom!

Me: But mom…you’re not really seniors yet…Dad’s still a year away from being 65. Or have they officially changed the age to 55 now like they do at Denny’s?

Mom: No, Katrina…not a prom for senior citizens. The Senior Prom at school. I’m probably going to be the oldest one there, but who cares, right? All my friends are going, and I’ve worked so hard…I feel like I need a night out. Plus, you’re dad says we have to go because there’s free drinks and appetizers.

Anyone who knows my father knows he never passes up a chance for free grub and liquor.

Mom explained that she would be doing her own hair and makeup and borrowing a prom dress from a really good family friend. Dad would probably wear the suit he wore at their wedding 31 years ago, which I found to be wonderfully romantic.

I also was kind of jealous that dad still fits into his wedding attire. Must be all that running he’s doing.

Me: Mom, that’s so great! I bet you’re really looking forward to it!

Mom: Yeah. We’ll see. I’m probably going to feel really fat, and your dad is self-conscious about his face peeling, but we’re going to try to make the best of it.

Oh, right.

The face peeling.

Where do I even begin?

I just typed out 873 words explaining how exactly my dad ended up in the ER with second degree burns covering his entire face.

And then, I realized Mark might not appreciate the details of his candle melting accident gone wrong being divulged on the internet.

Long story short, don’t, under any circumstances, try to melt multiple candles into one jar at three in the morning when there’s a pretty good chance you might fall asleep during the process.

Apparently, problems with candles run in my family.

My dad was extremely lucky. He was wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt that protected the majority of his body from being burnt. His glasses also prevented damage to his eyes, and he had the presence of mind not to inhale any of the lung damaging fumes from the fire.

In fact, the horrible burns have actually worked in his favor and given him results similar to a very expensive chemical peel.

Some dads have all the luck.

So, my fifty-two year old mother attended the prom feeling self-conscious about her age and the way her dress fit.

My sixty-four year old father stood by her side, beyond embarrassed that large, scaly sheets of dead skin were peeling off his entire face.

Thirty one years later, he was still too cheap to order my mom a corsage. (Although I do think he deserves some credit for not attempting to melt down all the votive candles used to decorate the tables at the end of the night.)

I called my mom last Sunday, eager to hear all the details of her big night out.

“It was okay,” she sighed. “I mean…there’s all of this build up and excitement, and then you get there and it’s just not that great.”

Story of my life.

And not merely in regards to big events like the prom, but just growing up in general. Prom is similar to adulthood in that you keep waiting for it to happen, and then when it finally does, you realize it’s a little bit…well…overrated.

I always used to think that once I reached a certain age, things would just fall into place. I’d have my life together, I’d be happy and responsible, I would finally be able to look back on all of my hard work and say, “I’m here! I’ve arrived! I’ve finally made it to the place I’ve been working towards.” Adulthood represented a utopian life where everything was polished and shiny. I envisioned myself being put together and problem free. A perfect version of myself.

Instead, adulthood involves sharing a car that doesn’t even have cruise control with my husband, realizing we actually have to pay back all of those student loans we took out, and coming to terms with the fact that we live in an apartment that is within walking distance of the mall.

Also? I no matter how old I get, I still relish every single moment I spend watching “Greek” on ABC family while lounging on the IKEA sofa we had to settle for as we still can’t afford a sectional from Crate & Barrel due to the aforementioned student loans.

Ummm….welcome to adulthood?

My mom’s night at the prom made me realize something really important: Adulthood is awkward. Sure, it’s different from the awkwardness of puberty, proms and pep rallies, but it’s uncomfortable nonetheless. I still wrestle with some of the same problems I did in high school. How do I make friends? Do I look stupid? Did I say the wrong thing? What if nobody likes my blog? What if nobody likes me?

I don’t think we ever grow out of our insecurities, and I’m learning to be okay with that.

Mom mom is a great example. She’s overcome a devastating disability, has raised three wonderful children (and one snarky one), gone back to work despite her health issues, graduate from college and enjoyed a wonderful 31-year marriage with Mr. Candle Melter. You’d think she’s got it all together, yet despite her list of accolades, she still felt goofy at the prom.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure I know anyone who didn’t feel goofy at the prom.

Yet in spite of our fears, our self-doubt, our flaws, and yes, even our peeling faces, we can still be successful, fulfilled, content individuals. We can have fun at the prom without being the King or Queen!

Having your life one hundred percent together is not a prerequisite for making it wonderful. A comforting thought, indeed.

Almost as comforting as the knowledge that I’ll never have to go to the prom again.

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Ten Things You Don’t Know About Me ⁵

One of my guilty pleasures is reading US Weekly magazine.

Photo via Us Weekly

Actually…I don’t feel even slightly guilty about it, so perhaps it’s more of a simple pleasure.

I even used to have a subscription, until it mysteriously stopped arriving in the mail one week. Something tells me my husband was behind this, although he has yet to admit to it.

He also has yet to admit to the fact that he read every single issue, and had some pretty serious opinions on Suri Cruise’s fashion choices.

Anyway, one of my favorite sections in the magazine is the Hot Hollywood “25 Things You Don’t Know About Me” piece they do every week, featuring a different celebrity.

Whitney Port 25 Things You Don't Know About Me

Really, Whitney? You’ve NEVER eaten pasta? (Insert eye-roll here)

Photo via whitneyport.celebbuzz.com

Each week, as I scan through these mundane factoids about D-List celebrities, I secretly wish Us Weekly would do one of these on me.

And then I remember that I’m not famous and eat pasta on a semi-regular basis.

But today, I had an epiphany. This is my blog, and nothing is keeping me from pretending that I am a D-list celebrity who doesn’t eat pasta for a day.

So, I’ve chosen to reveal ten things you probably don’t know about me.

I would have done twenty-five, but because I tend to…um…overshare on this little blog of mine, coming up with just ten was quite a stretch.

1. I was second runner-up at the 2008 Mrs. New York America pageant

Believe it or not, I was going to try to track down a horribly embarrassing photo from this…but alas, the internet decided to swallow all evidence of me prancing about in an evening gown so that no one else might be subjected to it.

Thank you, internet.

However, if the photos were to somehow surface, you would see my not-so-happy husband on stage with me as my “escort” for the evening. I’m pretty sure he’s never been so morally opposed to anything in his life.

2. I’m a singer

By no means am I good enough to be on American Idol or anything, but I did go to college on a vocal scholarship. I’ve been singing since the age of two, and am good enough to school you in karaoke.

Sorry, but it’s the truth.

3. I’m a cat person

Believe it or not, Jolie is the first dog I’ve ever owned. In fact, when Scott brought her home, I tried to convince him to take her back after a mere two days. And then, one evening when I came home from the gym, she gave me a greeting that was similar to this and my heart melted. I’ve been carrying her around in my purse ever since.

Growing up, we always had cats. Seabass (I named her myself) was my personal favorite. She littered 19 kittens before being eaten by a raccoon in 2003.

This is the point when things went horribly awry. My dad, who happens to be a real-life cat whisperer, decided he still wanted feline companionship without having to pay for cat food. This is how he ended up stealing the neighbor’s outdoor cat. By the time I came home for the summer after my freshman year of college, “Misty” was spending upwards of 20 hours a day in our house.

Obviously, my dad would let her outside to go to the bathroom and eat food at the neighbor’s house. Over the course of two years, I don’t think he spent a single dime on food for that cat. “I provide it with love“, he argued.

The strangest part is that our neighbors were fully aware of the fact that my dad had stolen their cat. When they moved, they explained that they would have let him keep it, if it weren’t for the fact that their grandchildren were aways so excited to see it when they came for a visit.

So there you have it — I’m a cat lover turned dog person. But if you think about it, at seven pounds zero ounces, Jolie may as well be a cat, anyway.

4. I drink pickle juice

By itself.

Because it is delicious.

Bottoms up!

And because my blood pressure is so low, the extra sodium doesn’t seem to do much harm.

Also? I highly recommend adding a splash of pickle juice to your bloody mary. It’s to die for.

5. I was the fattest baby born in the state of Alaska during July 1984.

Nine pounds, ten ounces.

And yes, I still brag about this.

6. I used to work at McDonald’s

It was my first job, and it was terrible. Mostly because I never made it past flipping burgers. And partly because I kept getting scolded for sneaking milkshakes.

I will say this…I’ve worked in four different restaurants, and McDonald’s was by far the cleanest. Their food may be unhealthy, but at least it’s McSanitary.

7. I almost posed nude for an artistic photo shoot

This actually relates to the Mrs. New York America pageant. The guy I had hired to take my head shots was earning his master’s degree in photography, and wanted Scott and I to go bare for a series he was doing on couples.

I was actually considering it until he showed me a giant photo he had shot of a butt-naked pregnant woman (she had to be at least in her third trimester), standing in a back yard gazing at a kiddie pool. Her husband, also naked, was mowing the lawn.

At that very instant, visions of me, naked as a jaybird and holding a weed-wacker flooded my brain.

Obviously, I was forced to decline.

I’m sorry…but cellulite and lawn care equipment are neither sexy or artistic, not matter how hard you try.

8. Speaking of mowing the lawn….I’ve never actually done it.

It’s not that I’m lazy or afraid to get my hands dirty.

It’s more that my dad is a control freak, and always feared we wouldn’t do it right. In all honesty…forbidding me to come into contact with a lawn mower was probably a very good call.

His mentality was when it came to most chores and household duties, he was the only person who knew how to do things “the right way”. This is the reason why I had also never done a load of laundry until starting college. I spent an entire month washing my garments with nothing but fabric softener before my roommate was kind enough to give me a lesson.

9. I don’t mean to brag…but I’m a pretty good dancer.

I figure that the good Lord gave me a big bootie for a reason–and that reason is to shake it.

I’ve been contemplating uploading a home video of my skillz on the blog, but am still feeling a little sheepish. Maybe if you leave lots of encouraging comments, I’ll consider it.

Maybe.

(Side note: Scott is also a fantastic dancer, but we have two totally different styles and senses of rhythm. Watching us on the dance floor is kind of hilarious. And by hilarious I mean painful.)

10. My pet name is “Trats”

Scott’s actually had a series of pet names for me which date way back to when we first started dating in 2003. It started with “Pumpkin Butt” which soon evolved to “Poopy Butt”, and then finally became “Mrs. Poopy”.

There have been dozens more over the years, but “Trats” is the most recent, and has stuck for a good twelve months. It derives from the word “Treats”, which just happens to be our dog Jolie’s favorite word. For some reason, Scott started referring to everything as a treat, including his wife. He eventually decided he didn’t like the letter “e” and shortened it to “Trats”.

Variations include “Trattles”, “Treatsie Girl” “Tratsies” and my personal favorite, “KaTrats”.

*****

There you have it. Ten things you probably didn’t care to know about me — or as I like to call it, ”Ten reasons why Us Weekly has failed to call for an interview”.

But if they do call, I’ll totally be using “KaTrats Taylor” as my celebrity stage name.

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PSSTT! Have you entered the Best Book Ever Giveaway yet? You only have until Friday!

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Love at first bite

Where’s the bacon? ⁰

Last year, I was lucky enough to attend An Event Apart in Boston–a conference for people who, like me, make websites.

I was thrilled to attend the same conference in Seattle this week for a variety of reasons.

Well…mainly one reason.

The bacon.

Last year in Boston, the theme of AEA might as well have been “bacon”.

Correction. “Copious amounts of bacon.”

I’m talking enough for each attendee to have ten tasty slices a day. No, ten tasty slices a meal. A salty and crispy promise land, if you will.

Obviously, I took full advantage of the breakfast meat situation. I mean, the quality of my design work is not dependent on whether I can zip up my pants or not, right?

Right?

As I prepped myself for Baconpalooza 2012, I kept coming back to one single question.

Is it wrong to travel half way across the country for a conference and be this excited for the bacon?

(The answer is yes.)

Did I do it anyway?

(The answer is yes.)

And did I spend ten minutes sobbing in the lady’s room when I arrived at breakfast only to discover it was a bacon-free zone?

(The answer is maybe.)

(Alright, alright…the answer is yes.)

Would you believe my crispy meat strips had been replaced with hard-boiled eggs and…wait for it…bananas?

Apparently, people in Seattle are like, healthy or something. Two months after my move, and I’d already forgotten about that aspect of this fine, fine city.

Luckily, I’ve still had my world rocked by incredible speakers with their groundbreaking ideas and thought-provoking presentations.

But still, some thick cut bacon would have been nice.

After a morning of fabulous sessions (and let’s be honest…lots of fantasies about bacon), I passed through the lobby only to be greeted by these lovelies.

Cavities, schmavities.

That’s right…a candy bar…the only thing in the world that is better than bacon.

Well done, AEA. Well done.

The high point of the afternoon was throwing half a bowl of raisinettes away as I had, for the first time in my adult life, reached my full sugar capacity.

Or maybe that was the low point?

Anyway, during the event, one of the speakers tweeted that if you don’t gain five pounds at this conference, you’re doing it wrong.

If gaining five pounds is doing it right, is gaining ten pounds, like, doing it really right?

I didn’t think so.

In all seriousness, the conference has been out of this world. Maybe even out of this universe. I’d write about the actual content of AEA, but my sponge of a brain has absorbed so much information in the last twenty-four hours, it is quite literally only capable of processing simply and happy thoughts of candy and bacon.

And how much I admire Jeffrey Zeldman, of course.

He’s the Brad Pitt of web standards. I want his autograph.

Photo via zeldman.com

In other news, I’ll be attempting to make up for the candy bar incident by going on a morning run tomorrow. A run sponsored by raisinettes and feelings of guilt.

Hopefully I’ll be able to refuel with some bacon at breakfast, though.

UPDATE:
I did go on a run this morning. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I made these stairs my b****.

Although, on second thought, perhaps I was their b****?

But you know what? There was a homeless man applauding me as I hurled my body up all fourteen stories. I may or may not have attempted to high-five him.

I think that makes me the victor, right?

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