tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64435078432694131512024-02-20T16:29:48.933-05:00Classic KTWelcome to the world of KarenDeniseAustinTownsend - you're officially in my head (with permission).Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-67901067018905711852015-10-13T18:55:00.000-04:002015-10-13T18:55:01.099-04:00THAT'S WHAT SHE DO!<i>My lifelong sister friend asked me to speak at her (our) baby sister's celebration of life memorial service. She specifically asked me to "speak like your blog". She had no idea how BIG that felt for me, but I asked the Spirit to give me the words (and make sure I didn't cuss because my mom would be there) and this is what I got. </i><br />
<br />
September marks the five year anniversary of me living in our Nation's capital. While living in the four quadrants is MAD expensive, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I've had some amazing experiences and have seen some of the most extraordinary things. But the everyday NON-extraordinary things are probably the MOST interesting and provide the best life lessons. <br />
<br />
First, the homeless. I am never NOT blown away by how many homeless people there are in this city that LIVE in parks. My office is 3 blocks from the White House. I ride the bike home from work most days so I swing by there just to see if everything is alright. I have a vision that one day Michelle is going to be outside doing something extraordinary and she's going to see me on the bike and say "Hey Girl, Hey come on over for peppermint tea!" We're born 9 days apart...we're practically sisters. She's married to the president of these United States and I'm trying to avoid dating men that read with their finger on the page and their lips moving. Something went wrong on my end of this sisterhood. Well, mama doesn't like to fly anyway. So all that Air Force One stuff would be a bit much for her. So it's probably for the best. Anyhoo...the juxtaposition of the homeless that live in the two parks between my office and the most powerful house in the nation - (maybe the world - I don't know because you know, China) is jarring. And because the homeless consider those parks their homes, when you walk through you see the same ones. I've bought them coffee or given them my leftovers and a few of them know my name. I THINK they assume we're friends.<br />
<br />
The other thing that REALLY fascinates me is the conversations people have on public transportation. ALLLL walks of life take public transportation. And FAR too many of them talk about stuff we probably don't need to hear. I ride the bus to work almost every day. There is a woman who rides the bus that talks every morning to her girlfriend (or somebody) about her man, Donnell. Based on the conversations, in my estimation she can do better than Donnell. I wonder if the person on the other end of the phone tells her that. One morning Donnell had been involved in a particularly scandalous scenario with another woman. She said "I know that's what she's been doing and what she's gonna keep doing - she's gonna RUN HER MOUTH - CAUSE THAT'S WHAT SHE DO - RUN HER MOUTH. EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT and SHE will be known for that the rest of her pitiful LIFE. CUZ THAT WHAT SHE DO!!!"<br />
<br />
That brings me to this life we're celebrating today. Like so many of us, I've known Crystal all of her life. When she was first diagnosed, I know it was shocking and DEVASTATING for her and all of us that loved her. But she reached out to her loved ones and said "pray for me in this fight". Because...that's what SHE do. She posted lyrics to her favorite songs "Jesus You're the Center of My Joy" and "We've Come This Far By Faith". I'm reading her lyrics, fighting tears, air fighting and turning on trap music so I don't cry. But she was encouraging herself AND us because..THAT'S WHAT SHE DO! In her dying, she was teaching us how to live, how to handle adversity. When I came home toward the end of April, she was upbeat and funny and talking fast (as usual) and determined and I was in AWE. Because...that's what she do. I thought about each person I've lost to cancer. Each of them has left an indelible image on my heart. Each of them had a positive "that's what she do" about them. Some wonderful characteristic(s) that let me know I've chosen some pretty remarkably awesome people to be my friends. Because...that's what THEY do. I can only hope that when my life is done, my "that's what she do" will be a good thing. I hope that I've encouraged someone, brought light, love and laughter. We should all hope that if we're the person being talked about on public transportation that we're living such a life that our "that's what she do" will be way better than Donnell's other chick.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-51603098334651929372015-08-25T11:38:00.001-04:002015-08-25T11:38:22.664-04:00WORKING ON IT<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><em>When I started the blog, I thought it would be funny to share some of the utterly ridiculous thoughts that go on inside my head. I was prepared to regularly share anecdotes of the absurd things I do and think and you'd get a look inside this dome. For some reason, I got so far inside my head about blogging that it didn't end up on paper, or more literally, on this screen. </em><em>I'm back now and Classic KT - Part Deux has arrived. Let's go.</em></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am fascinated with quite a few things - like really tall people (which from my 5'3" vantage point can be a great deal of the population); blind people out walking alone, and people who are missing a limb or limbs. When I say fascinated I mean, I become my 5 year old inquisitive self who can't stop staring. I've created some incredibly uncomfortable situations where I've been caught staring AND even worse, mute - mouth agape. I'm typically able to close my mouth successfully BEFORE I drool, but that's not guaranteed. Like that one time, I saw a guy with NO arms but he had on a backpack. I'm going to be transparent and admit I followed him through the metro station for a bit. That backpack did not slip AT. ALL. I was spellbound.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyhoo...a few weeks ago I was traveling and I was in the hotel gym on the treadmill. This lovely young lady walked in with one full arm and one half arm. I couldn't stop staring. (I'll stop here and admit that because of my fascination with missing limbs, I often think someone is missing an arm but typically their arms are just folded.) After staring and confirming that she was in fact missing a portion of her arm, my FIRST thought was "Wow, she's carrying her water bottle AND towel in the little arm and the full arm is just swinging along without a care in the world. Whyyyyy wouldn't she put her belongings in the full arm?" I concluded that she was letting these streets know that despite the appearance of a disability, she is maximizing the limited capability of that arm and she's JUST. FINE. (Clearly, she's not concerned with the streets - that's just me talking.) So I went from staring at her with some pity, to an inquiring mind wanting to know her story, then finally admiration like "YAAASSS, Girl!" This all happened in a matter of 60 seconds (and yes, I did stumble on the treadmill - but I didn't fall....or drool.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">FORTUNATELY, I had more thoughts after that because, you know.....I'm deep. I thought about aspects of my life where I have limited capability...areas of my life where I could be stronger and what I do (or don't do) to maximize my usage. (Yes, I actually made that leap in my head. I told you - the most bizarre things happen up there.) Brene Brown says if you need to learn patience you WILL end up in the longest lines at the grocery store. Meaning, whatever you need to learn you'll continue to be challenged in that area until you actually perfect it. Patience actually used to be one of my crosses that I LABORIOUSLY bore, but I'm chill now. So much so, I look back and wonder why I was in such a hurry. I'm wondering what goodness I might have missed rushing and flitting about. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Take a moment for a patience praise break...ain't he alright??!! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Won't. He. Do. It.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now is as good a time as any to take on another cross I bear. I'm gonna tackle vulnerability - for real this time. I do not willingly exercise my vulnerability muscle. I'm a certified Betty Badass. So vulnerability ain't my thing. I ain't bout that vulnerable life. I've tried it. I'm extremely uncomfortable with it even though I've seen decent results. But it's not my go to space.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not good at it. Don't like it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wish I could banish it to the pit of hell.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But word on the street is there is legitimate value in it when practiced consistently. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That it could indeed be good for me. Transformational, even.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Note: the streets are ALWAYS talking.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well... there you have it. Vulnerability is my short arm and I'm gonna commit myself to using it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wish me godspeed.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-88412327803523271672014-01-06T19:05:00.002-05:002014-01-06T19:05:56.723-05:00MELODICALLY YOURSI LOVE music. I mean REALLY love music. In fact, I often say "My life is a melody". If my mom had known I was going to love music this much she would have probably named me Melody, or Treble, or Harmonize, or Symphony or something musical. Who am I kidding, my mother likes names to be as simple as possible..Karen and Kim (not even Kimberly). AND she hates nicknames so I was probably destined to be Karen Denise. ANYhoo, since 2013 was the year that I was counting down to 50 and committing to "See and live life" like crazy, I was more "in tune" to my life than I've ever been and I was surprised how the playlist that is my life developed.<br />
<br />
In my effort to live a more in tune life, I started every day this year in silence. I would meditate while getting ready (that may be the primary reason I left the house without my keys a record number of days). It was my time to set my intention for the day. It was absolutely AMAZING that a song came to me every morning...I mean Every. Single. Morning. Often, the song was a hymn. It made me appreciate being in church all the time as a child and singing every verse of every song! But since I love all kinds of music, I got such a delightful variety of hip hop, r&b, blues, and even country. After one particularly epic night of Single KT debauchery (nights that involve tequila automatically qualify as epic), and I was trying to figure out the people on the other end of these flattering texts I was receiving, Elle Varner started singing in my head "Oh what a night oh what a night". And on some mornings the songs were written by me - yes, I'm a songwriter. I would have a thought that would turn into a song that I would sing repeatedly to the point I often annoyed myself. I've decided I need to start recording these hits because they're classics. Like I'm sure this is how Bey creates her magic. "Girl, I'm drunk and in love right now". There was one day when the homeless man who sits in front of my office in his wheelchair was saying good morning and I got too close to him. He decided to grab me for a hug and I stumbled and nearly fell in his lap. The SINGLE thought swirling in my head immediately became the song "I don't wanna fall in his lap!" Shoulda published that one...had Billboard top 40 written all over it. Then there was that day when I got soooooo pissed off at work and all I could hear was<br />
"Yeek Yeek Woop Woop why you all in my ear?<br />
Talking a whole bunch of shit that I ain't trying to hear.<br />
GET BACK Mu#?*@er, You don't know me like that!!" <br />
<br />
Listen, I went straight to Spotufy and downloaded that one; went and got on the bike and rode around downtown DC singing it at the top of my lungs. Thanks Luda.<br />
<div>
<br />
There were days when I was in my feelings about a dude, or work or my health, or my mom's health or just life in general and the ideal song would show up to provide clarity, make me shed tears then wipe em, or simply make me laugh hysterically. Obviously, that's the way the universe has decided to deal with me and I'm here for and fully embrace it! In 2014 I'm going to step fully into the melody (and medley) that is my life. (Nadine, remember that girl who didn't know the difference between melody and medley? Hilar!) I'm gonna roll around in it, kick up my heels in it, stomp through it, cry through it and sing, hum and dance my way through my 50th year. THIS. WILL. BE. SO. MUCH. FUN!!!<br />
<br />
Guess what? I want you to join me!!! As a gift from you to me, please share your FAVORITE power song, party song, sacred song, whatever song (or songs) make you feel like a bona fide BOSS!! I want that song (or songs) that makes you feel so ecstatic that if you were a kid your mom would tell you to go somewhere and sit down or go outside and run that off before you come back in the house. YOU'RE JUST READY TO EXPLODE FROM THE SHEER JOY OF BEING YOUR AWESOME YOU!<br />
<br />
Yeah, that song. That's the one I want on my playlist. If you're on Spotify, you can simply add the song(s) to my MELODIC JOY RISING playlist. I made it collaborative so it will feel like we're all in 3rd grade music class together and we have every single available instrument playing them like crazy and the music teacher has gone to her purse to get her flask because there is way too much noise. Otherwise, just tell me the name of it and I'll hunt it down.<br />
<br />
But wait...there's more!! This is a gift to YOU, too! You can also listen to the playlist whenever you need it! Trust me, you'll need it.<br />
<br />
Melodically Yours,<br />
Singing, Dancing, Spinning, Twirling KT<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-75744964898446107272013-07-14T21:01:00.000-04:002013-07-19T13:49:11.101-04:00Can I Get An Intervention, Please?Saturday, July 13 could not have been a day of bigger contrasts for me. Many of my KC Delta girls were in town. I started the day with a wonderful run and met my beloved Alane for a hug. I had my maiden voyage with Capital Bikeshare which gave me a whole new high. Then I met up with my other beloveds Candice, Myra, Carla, Debra, Stasi, Marsha (who would not give me that bag) and even Stephanie (all the way from Australia!!!). As I hugged them and headed home I was positively giddy! THEN...I sat down and checked Facebook. The first update I saw was my cousin Reg's that said "Wow. Message sent and received." I said "uh oh." As I continued to scroll down I switched to twitter, saw the outrage and immediately got nauseous. I turned on the tv saw the defense attorney speak for all of two minutes. I was PISSED. Then...I cried. I sobbed. I wailed uncontrollably. I barely slept because I couldn't stop crying.<br />
<br />
I didn't watch one second of the trial for the murder of Trayvon Martin. I couldn't. I was talking to my Mom (she watches the news 24/7) who said every time it came on she turned the sound down because she didn't wanna hear it. She never believed he'd be convicted. I didn't wanna believe he'd get off. In my mind, it was pretty simple. He went after the CHILD with a GUN and that CHILD ends up DEAD. How could he NOT be guilty, right? RIGHT????<br />
<br />
Sunday morning while I was waiting to board a plane, I called Melissa. In my MIND, I was calling her to check on her because she'd been sick. But I think my HEART needed her. See, Lissa is that person in my life who can make sense out of anything. She's one of the smartest people I KNOW...probably one of the smartest people in the world. She's ALSO a BRILLIANT judge and legal mind. And my HEART needed to hear from that brilliant legal mind but mostly for her to help me reconcile all of this like she does with everything. She gave me all of the legal reasoning and of course she made me aware of so much more. But she was just as unsettled as I was by it all. She could explain HOW it happened - but she couldn't reconcile it, either.<br />
<br />
My mind went to the profound words in The Twelve Tribes of Hattie by Ayana Mathis. It's an EXTRAORDINARY read about Hattie, her husband and their 12 children. Toward the end of the book as Hattie is looking back over her life, the author writes "Hattie believed in God's might but she didn't believe in his interventions. At best, he was indifferent." The first time I read that, I had to put the book down because it jarred me so. I've often asked God why - but these words so succinctly said what I'd actually been too afraid to even think. It's disrespectful, isn't it? While I do believe in God's matchless, unwavering, unconditional love - sometimes it FEELS like he's indifferent and I'd LOVE for him to intervene. I know I know...we'll understand it better by and by but....<br />
<br />
Social media is full of people with a range of emotions over Trayvon's murder. People are pissed...and they're hurt. There's so much talk about the perils of being a black man/boy - and I trust and believe that it is perilous. Everybody wants someone to blame. Well you know what I want? Intervention. We've all suffered loss of someone we love. And we all would have liked some kind of intervention. Did the plane with MY friend have to go down? Did cancer have to take these people I love who were so young (and even not so young) yet loved by so many? Did all of those babies in Connecticut have to die? Part of Lissa's explanation was the charges brought by the prosecution. Sounded to me like she basically did a shitty job and didn't really want to prosecute. Then the cocky defense attorney served up their bullshit. And you got a jury of women from the wackass state of Florida. Seems to me the perfect time for an intervention.<br />
<br />
But I'm just a woman who loves her child like Tracy and Sybrina loved their son. I simply want love and light to flow and joy to continuously rise and for everything to always be right. And that's just not what life is. I realized these tears that won't stop are for all the interventions I so wished happened that didn't. And it hurts. Bad.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-87577982207603388452013-01-08T07:40:00.002-05:002013-01-08T10:51:49.713-05:00Magnifying Pinatas!!49 years ago today after my early morning birth Daddy carried me (wrapped in swaddling clothes) up the hill and lifted me to the heavens and "Behold-ed" me and the village bowed....wait, that was Kizzy and Simba. If you know me, you know I LOVE my birthday. I've never been one of those people who stay 25 or 30 or whatever age they think keeps them young because 1) I am grateful for every single day, minute, second the Lord has allowed me to be here and 2) I don't look as old as I am - vanity is not all bad.<br />
<br />
I've been in this physical, mental and emotional metamorphosis over the past couple of years. My personal paradigm shift started with my move but then the rest is really me acknowledging life's aha moments and carpe diem-ing the heck out of em. Two things stand out as I start this new calendar and birth year.<br />
<br />
First, my sister friend (not to be confused with sister wife) Nadine called me a Life Magnifier (she's Natalie or Nakki to the rest of the world - and nobody else gets to call her Nadine but me...I'm serious...I will fight you, bruh) How. Awesome. Is. That?? I mean really, there are no better words to capture what I do on a daily basis. I don't intentionally walk around creating Classic KT moments, they're instinctive. They happen cause I notice life. I SEE things. Not like dead people - but I see life's happenings and more often than not find the funny in them. And it is my duty to bring it to the attention of the masses or at least those around me. I'm certain that's what WOULD have happened had Daddy taken me up that mountain top and held me up to the stars. "Behold, SEE LIFE" would have been the declaration. I've had some tragic moments. I've suffered some painfully devastating losses that, at the time, didn't seem to be something from which I'd ever recover. Even in those moments there was Nessa patting me on the back saying "Ninja" as she so appropriately does. Those MINOR moments of levity make me step back and "see" the moment for what it is...Life. Then I've seen some ridiculously joyful moments - those times where I've laughed so hard I've pee'd my pants just a little. Or those times that nobody seems to think it's hilarious that the choir director is doing a perfect pirouette in church as he directs the song in his perfectly tailored suit. I mean Misty Copeland would pay homage to that pirouette. (Google her, people). I need folk to SEE and fully appreciate that!<br />
<br />
Then there was a sign on Pinterest that I've pinned to one of my boards that says "Life would be a million times better if there were pinatas strategically placed throughout the day". BTW, I have some REALLY funny and prophetic signs on that particular board. But seriously, how totally kickass would it be if you're having a bad day and you could go to the nearest pinata and wack the hell out of it? OR if you were having a day where you were princess of the world and you could go to a nearby pinata and have dark chocolate truffles rain down on your royal gloriousness. (As an aside, I have absolutely no desire to be the Queen. Queens have way too much responsibility - ruling over stuff, making decisions about the castle staff and whatnot, not to mention tending to the King's over inflated ego. I'm just gonna stay the princess and run around the castle kicking it with the help or go into the village and maybe have a dalliance with a commoner.) I'm gonna act like life really does have pinatas. I'm going to vent when necessary. I ain't trying to hold in my frustration and die from a heart attack. But more importantly, I'm gonna celebrate more (if that's possible). I will continue to dress for tea every Sunday when I'm watching Downton Abbey (not DowntoWn). I'm eventually going to stop in the middle of K Street and sing whatever bomb song comes on my ipod. Then carry on. I'm gonna do it. And a whole bunch of other stuff that my spirit prompts me to do - obviously resisting those things that will get me arrested.<br />
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We all know life is short...so buy the shoes; eat the cupcake; work up a sweat in a workout that makes you feel so good you can't wait to do it again; listen to REAL music; engage a stranger and point out "Life" that's going on and have him/her giggle about it with you; have groups of friends (like my brilliant M's, my joy-rising Westin girls, all them Delta girls I love, etc.) that encourage you to be all of you; watch football all day (and be not dismayed by the Cowboys); in fact, don't feel guilty at all about watching as much tv as you want; read a phenomenal life-changing/affirming book; go somewhere you've never been...most importantly, learn at least one scripture from the KING JAMES VERSION - bathe in the love of God then live in LOVE. When you're living in love you don't have time to judge, condemn or hate anybody who's views you don't share.<br />
<br />
Get your life magnifying glass and go see some stuff and smack the hell out of some pinatas!! This, my friends, is my gift to you on the day of my birth.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-51927414613959948362012-12-17T20:17:00.001-05:002012-12-17T20:17:22.622-05:00Match THIS!In my previous blog (which wasn't that long ago...so there) I mentioned how I've decided I like dating more than relationships. I've been trying to figure out why I need a relationship and can't really come up with a solid reason. So...dating it is.<br />
<br />
I started Project Yes back in the summer. Project Yes was/is quite simply me saying "Yes" to anyone who asks me out (as long as they don't give me the heebee geebees or look like they'll murder me) I'll say yes. I get stopped all the time and I blow these men off all the time. I quite possibly could have been blowing off a really good date. So I'm off on the Yes Train...choo choo...woop woop!!<br />
<br />
THEN, my soror strongly suggested I get on Match.com where she met her fiance. I'm thinking ok - the electronic version of Project Yes. How bad could it be - a little bad grammar here and there. I did have some self talk about not judging people who think your and you're are interchangeable. <br />
<br />
I need to take a commercial break to say - THEY'RE NOT! YOUR is a possessive - like it belongs to you. YOU'RE is the the contraction YOU ARE. Typos are one thing. Grammar incompetence is a completely different thing and I rebuke it as the child of an educator and in the mighty name of my 5th grade teacher Mrs. Barge. LEARN THE KING'S ENGLISH, PEOPLE! Shamalabosa!!!<br />
<br />
Antywho...during Sandra J. Frankenstorm while I was home-bound, I created a Match profile. While I was concerned that my first set of daily matches contained this dude that owned (or at least photographed in) far too many berets that any non Frenchman should, it wasn't so bad. Some brothas actually looked interesting. The winks and emails started coming with a quickness and I'm thinking this will really be fun. Until....this e-mail happens.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Subj: For Your Information (FYI)</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">"My fantasy with you is making you pregnant with my child. Todd"</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That was the EXACT email. I read this at about 11p and I had
the most stupefied look on my face because really, what are you supposed to think? Has a precedent been set for such an e-mail? Is that in the Match.com manual? I read it and re-read it about 5 times before I was very clear that I was reading correctly - I even put on readers just to be sure. We're not going to even get into the
fact that he doesn't think I know what FYI means...but I digress. I'm as fascinated as I
am appalled. Of course I responded because, above all else, I am here to entertain you.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: That was the craziest thing
I've ever read in my existence on the earth. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And subsequent emails went like this....</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">Subj: For Your
Information (FYI)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">The Astrological
Compatibility was there--in both Zodiacs.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Me: No. I'm
pretty sure you're wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">Subj: No<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">The timing is off.
If I could do it all over again: I would not have married that Aquarius.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Me: I'm
certain she feels the same way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">Subj: Please<br /><span style="background-color: white;">You don't understand Aquarius.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: red;">However, I understand you with out knowing you. I am a Virgo - Ox and you are a
Capricorn - Rabbit. If I would have met a Capricorn - Rabbit in the 80's, we
would not be having this communication.<br />Older and wiser. Where is that time machine?</span><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Me: What I do understand is while I can easily erase this email from my inbox, I
cannot erase it from my mental Rolodex. Please continue your pursuit of a
Capricorn as long as it's not me.</span></div>
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So yeah, that happened. To Me. KT. If that's not a Classic KT moment, I really don't know what is. I'm not going to lie. I'm kind of tempted to sign up for Christian Singles, Black People Meet and whatever other wackadoo site I can find - just to be entertained. I'm headed down a slippery slope now of not even wanting to date....JUST ENTERTAIN ME, DAMMIT! Bet you can't match THAT!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-30981203671979294982012-12-07T15:10:00.003-05:002012-12-07T15:10:35.911-05:00I Do Dumb StuffI do dumb stuff. I do dumb stuff all the time. The reason I even started this blog was to recount the dumb stuff I do. So yeah, I called the blog Classic KT because the dumb stuff I do has been aptly named Classic KT moments. But really, it's just dumb stuff I do. So TODAY in the life of me and my dumb stuff, I outdid myself.<div>
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I semi joined a church not long after I moved to DC but then stopped feeling that church so I started church hopping. I rather like being non-committal in my church home (as much as I like being non-committal with most things with the exception of my undying commitment to loving my Lord. In fact, I've recently learned that I like dating way better than relationships..though that's another blog). So this church I've been frequenting has a great choir. The choir president stopped me one Sunday and said he watches me participate and I look like I know the songs and have experience singing in a choir. I told him that yes I have been accustomed to singing in the choir BUT I'm not a member so I didn't think I could participate. He said, that was correct but he was going to check to see if there could be an exception made. He got back to me later in the week and told me approvals have been given and he'd love to see me at the next rehearsal. </div>
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I showed up and the people were warm and friendly and my section leader was this lovely woman who took my number and said she'd keep me updated. Which leads to me and the dumb stuff I do. I'm not good with names...at all. I do all the tricks to remember people's names, but I'm just not good at it. My WONDERFUL section leader lady has called me NUMEROUS times and said her name to me but today I needed to call her and ask about rehearsal and I remembered I didn't know her name. I have her number in my phone but there is no name attached. I remembered that it begins with an R but I can't for the life of me remember the rest. Sooooo I picked up the phone and the conversation went like this:</div>
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Her: Hello.</div>
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Me: Hi Rrrr this is Karen Townsend, how are you doing?</div>
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I figured if I made the R sound she would think I'd said her name and we could move on. IT WORKED!!!!!! When she didn't miss a beat and just said "Oh I'm doing fine" and I continued to ask my question, I thought I was going to pee on myself I was laughing so hard. I could barely get through the rest of the conversation because THAT was sooo funny to me. </div>
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So...let this be a lesson to you. Don't let not remembering a name get you down. Go forth in confidence and all will be well. </div>
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<br />Signed Kkkk</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-64357700989569185892012-05-14T13:01:00.001-04:002012-05-14T13:01:53.466-04:00The Girl Is Graduating!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Anybody who knows me knows that had I been alive during the early 20th century, I would have TOTALLY aspired to be the Town Crier. I would love to run the streets in a spiffy outfit sharing the news with the citizenry. I would have been sooooo good at that job. I would have been known throughout the land as the best Town Crier EVER. In fact, when big news happened, on my day off, they would have waited to share it until I got back to work because they would have wanted me on the job. OR, I would have gotten paid overtime to come in and share the news. Which begs the question - would I have had a salary, been paid hourly or would I have been paid per news event that I cried? And had I been paid per event would I have had to have another job, too? during that time, most/all women were married so I would imagine that my husband would have supported us and I would have done the crier gig on the side of being the CEO of the household. Hell, laundry alone is a full time job! I probably would have been married to a guy that would be turned on by my crier duties and would have wanted me to wear my crier clothes at home while we were role playing. I went too far didn't I? Sorry about that...<br />
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At any rate, as the present day town crier...<br />
THE GIRL IS GRADUATING!!!<br />
THE GIRL IS GRADUATING!!!<br />
THE GIRL IS GRADUATING!!!<br />
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I'm sooo excited, I literally do want to run the streets screaming it but I won't so that I don't get arrested. But thinking of doing that made me think of other things I should probably not do at her graduation festivities this weekend. There are three scheduled events - the hooding ceremony on Saturday, Baccalaureate on Sunday and the Graduation on Monday. I have visions of certain things I MAY do; but I'm committed to containing myself and NOT doing them. They include:<br />
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1) Shouting/Speaking in Tongues: I have a vision of me jumping up and down shouting GLORRRAAAYYYY to get started and then it's on from there. HALLELUJAH...309UDPOIJD 3*&)*&...literally in a full back bend, head thrown back screaming at the top of my lungs...waiting for an usher to come by to fan me and throw a hankie over me as I'm spread eagle on the floor.<br />
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2) On the floor in the fetal position: almost the opposite of the shouting experience would be me on the floor in the fetal position, sucking my thumb and crying uncontrollable tears of joy making a ridiculous amount of noise....not worrying at all that my spanx are showing . Intermittent embarrassing stories of her childhood would come between the bouts of tears and thumb sucking.<br />
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3) Pee on Myself: Although I've never done it, when I get REALLY excited, I get nervous that I may pee my pants. Depends IS an option, but does that mean I'll have to get bigger spanx to accommodate them? And will there be a visible panty ( or Depends) line?<br />
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4) Running: that's another thing I do when I get excited, I just want to run in a full sprint so fast that I need someone to tackle me to stop me. <br />
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5) Twirling/Spinning/Skipping: when I get happy I want to spin and twirl until I'm dizzy and I need to sit down. Then I want to skip. Now, I've been rehabbing this knee so my skipping is pretty good these days. My skipping has probably made it to the 70th percentile of skippers worldwide!<br />
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One of my aunts gave me an amazing compliment this weekend. She said "You so know how to live in the moment!" I loved that because I don't "try" to do it, I just do. It's the way I live. So this weekend, as I'm living in the moment of the revelry of The Girl's graduation weekend, I will not do anything to embarrass her. I will, however, be fully present in the most celebratory fashion I know how. I will have a permanent grin on my face of sheer unadulterated joy and pride. I will likely cry...a lot (no noise) - and I will have the cutest hankies that belonged to my grandmother - which will probably make me cry more (MY GRANDMA'S HANKIE...LAWD). I will hug her a lot. I will hug my Mama a lot. I will likely even hug my ex-husband (possibly - still TBD - since I live in the moment it will probably happen before I realize it). I will Hercules clap when her name is called - to the point I'll likely bruise my palms.<br />
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Yep this is a weekend for which Town Criers live. And this wanna be Town Crier will be at her best.<br />
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THE GIRL IS GRADUATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-81554760988980920282011-11-09T15:11:00.000-05:002011-11-09T15:11:28.841-05:00I Lost My Uterus...and Lost My MindSo I didn't actually LOSE my uterus. I know where it is (or at least who took it and it was taken with my permission) but it's gone never to return to this body. I had no idea it was also going to make me lose my mind (again, not literally lose it but act crazier than the normal KT level of crazy).<br />
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Hysterectomies are not new. When I decided to have one I was surprised at the number of friends and family who've had them. As I was getting ready for my surgery I talked to so many of them and everyone had a "story". I found the Hystersisters website and felt like I was totally ready for this. The surgery was WAAAY more complicated than the doctor anticipated. Of course, I'm not surprised...I'm WAAAAY more complicated than the average bear (in a good way) hence my uterus and all things located therein (funky fibroids) would also be complicated. I came out - friends and family waiting - Philly Soul waiting to get a report from CAT - my BELOVED morphine drip...and pretty much all was right in the world.<br />
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Let's take a moment of silence out of respect for the morphine drip...that thing is amazing. Fortunately for me that drip is regulated so I couldn't get it as much as I wanted. I just wanted to stay out in front of the pain. I was scared to go to sleep because I didn't want to wake up in pain..who was going to push the button while I was asleep????<br />
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Obviously, I survived and went home a few days later, slept off the morphine and started my recovery. Now, my friend Candice told me she followed the doctor's orders to the letter and didn't have one issue. So she was my recovery idol. Being in the house with my Mom there was no option for me to overdo it. So physically I was coming along just fine. But mentally....all I can say is WHAT THE HELL????????????<br />
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It's already been established that I'm...well as a few friends put it...crazy as hell. I'd like to think of me as "exotic". So let's take all this exotic-ness and subtract my uterus. There is no easy way to say this...I'm officially coo coo for cocoa puffs. I knew there would be hormonal changes but I was in no way prepared for my combination of uteruslessness and natural exotic-ness....NOT AT ALL.<br />
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Exhibit A: I changed my alarm tone that wakes me up and the next morning when it woke me up I had no idea what the noise was, and was so startled, I literally threw myself out of the bed and was wedged on the floor between the wall and my bed...NOT a good look.<br />
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Exhibit B: I was putting sriracha sauce on some wonderful dish I'd prepared and looked at the top before I shook it to be sure it was closed and proceeded to shake away. Said top was NOT closed and there was a sriracha explosion on the wall of my kitchen. Then I said to myself, didn't I just look at that top? After the cleanup, I looked and TURNED the top again, and yep you guessed it, it was not closed again and I had a second sriracha explosion. I considered just leaving it on the wall as artwork but realized that would just be nasty.<br />
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Exhibit C: I needed something out of my boudoir (it's really my closet room but boudoir sounds so much more fancy). I ran upstairs and then couldn't remember what I was looking for. Instead of shaking my head or even just laughing it off, I started crying. Not those gentle tears where someone would pat me gently and say "are you ok?". No, I cried those falling on the floor laying prostrate before the Lord kind of tears. Now when you realize you're laying on the floor face down crying hysterically and then you STOP..the most humiliating part about that - EVEN WHEN YOU'RE ALONE - is getting up with some kind of dignity and resuming the day's activities. I stood up and then fell on my ottoman crying hysterically because I'd just cried hysterically. WHO DOES THAT???? A woman with that missing lady part, that's who.<br />
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I have so many more exhibits that I'd need to start doubling up on my alphabet. But I won't share any more because I don't want it to alter your admiration for me AND because Carolyn and JJ (actually now JD) always complain that my blogs are too long! I'll just say like the old ladies at church say - please pray my strength in the Lord. Also pray I don't need to lose any other lady parts.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-69956060354975674232011-07-30T17:35:00.000-04:002011-07-30T17:35:32.848-04:00Ahhhh....The BeginningI'm not even going to get into how long it's been since I've done a post so....let just get into it.<br />
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So you're walking down the corridor and you spot him and he spots you and you think to yourself "Hmm, he's kinda cute." But you remind yourself to get closer before you make a final determination on his cuteness because of that one time you met a dude at the club and you thought HE was cute, too. You agree to meet the next day for coffee. You get there first and are sitting by the window waiting for Mr. Cute and you get distracted giggling at this fool trying to parallel park this big ole deuce and a quarter. He finally gets it parked and gets out with a velvet shirt and a soul patch and comes into the coffee shop and waves at YOU! What you THOUGHT was cute was actually a nightmare of an individual that couldn't get enough cashews. You remind yourself to never trust your eyes.<br />
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Anyhoo....This current cutie gets closer, and you realize he really IS cute. You do everything to try and calm yourself as he starts walking toward you You exchange greetings and chat for a bit, exchange numbers and agree to connect. He calls you the next day (because you're certain he doesn't want to seem too anxious and call you the same day) and you have amazing conversation for over an hour. The daily conversations get better and you can't BELIEVE this great guy is saying all the right things and he seems to be as into you as you are into him. Then.....it begins. <br />
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All that ridiculously crazy, tingly excitement that comes over you - THE BEGINNING. Suddenly, you're playing the playlist on your Ipod that has the most love songs. You're humming songs that have "la la" in the lyrics. You pull out your Love Jones DVD and watch it twice in a row. You DIE every time he says "Babe" cause he says it just right. You nearly have a heart attack when the phone rings and it's him because you were JUST thinking about him and hoping he would call. You start thinking of the ringtone he's going to get on your phone - but promise to wait at least two weeks before doing so. You have to work at not talking about him ALL THE TIME to your friends so they won't be sick of him before they meet him. You just want to find a field of flowers and freaking skip through it!<br />
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Who doesn't love the beginning? I love seeing those couples who have the "beginning" throughout the course of their relationships. I have lots of friends who do that and I get really excited for them (even if I sometimes want to throw up in my mouth about how sickeningly in love they are). Don't you love those couples that can have an intimate moment in a crowded room of people - to the point where you almost feel like you're invading their privacy? That there - that started in the beginning and has just carried on. Conversely, I feel sad for those couples who have no beginning happening and look like "Why does he/she keep coming home?" Do they remember their beginning? Did they even have a "beginning" or was their relationship some kind of business arrangement?<br />
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I am here to declare - I REFUSE to have a relationship that doesn't maintain some beginning in it. Who wouldn't want - at worst an itty bitty bit, or at best a whole heapin lot of that beginning throughout? For those negative Nancys who say it's not possible - I say HOGWASH...AND HOCKEY PUCKS and sentence you to a life of sensible shoes!<br />
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I and the the rest of us Beginning Believers are gonna be out here having us some beginnings, looking for a field of flowers (or strawberries, perhaps) for skipping, gaiety and all around merriment! Off we go...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-77924919602244466352011-01-27T11:32:00.000-05:002011-01-27T11:32:59.754-05:00The Year is Young...As Am I!!!I LOVE that my birthday is the first month of the year. It's kind of like the rest of the world gets to start anew along with me (except for the Chinese - when is their new year - how does that exactly work for them?). Gosh, I started digressing within the first sentence...but that's how my mind works. It's all over the place up there. AnThow...had a glorious holiday season, right up there with Mary, Joseph, Jesus and 'nem. I hadn't hung out with my Mama that much in ages and it was cool to just be in her presence and be utterly amused by HER musings!<br />
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I had so many revelations on that nearly 3 week trip to KC (won't be doing THAT again - WAAAAY too long to be away from MY space and my bed.<br />
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1) I don't live in KC any more. I'm not just visiting DC - this is where I live...my new home...my new sacred space. Yep, that's me all right up in this District. As soon as I got home, I started rearranging furniture. I just MIGHT make my deadline of having every box unpacked by March 31st!!<br />
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2) My daughter is 21. I have raised her. She is grown! I'm now just an advisor (and ATM). That girl that used to love rocks and pens and watermelo (she never could get meloN) and bawling eggs (boiling) and playing in her tent and Reading Reptile and her Granny's house is now a grown woman who can order a cocktail! Mazel tov Girldaughter and bring Mama a shot of tequila!<br />
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3) On January 8 I turned 47. FORTY SEVEN YEARS OLD. I am now closer to 50 than 40. In my 40's, yes - but LATE 40's. I feel like I've been saying 47 a lot more than I EVER said 46. I really don't mind aging because it means I'm still here and frankly I have no choice! Age or die. I'll take aging. But then I had a moment where I was asking myself all those silly questions about am I where I imagined I'd be blah blah blah. Really KT? You are where you are - LOVE IT - LIVE IT - LAUGH AT IT (especially laugh at it cause funny stupid ish happens to you every single day). That passed and I skipped on about my business.<br />
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4) Which brings me to my resolutions. <br />
<ul><li>I am going to skip a WHOLE lot more. Besides being fun - it's gotta be good for my heart rate, right? </li>
<li>I am going to make up great songs in the shower in the morning. How can I possibly get mad at a day or have a bad day when I have an original hit on my heart.</li>
</ul>That's all. I'm gonna skip and I'm gonna sing! That really should lead to a lot more fun stuff. Of course, I hope the skipping doesn't lead to the emergency room but I'll be careful.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-38790033233585481672010-10-26T18:40:00.000-04:002010-10-26T18:40:07.562-04:00The QuestSo I'm far more compelled to blog since I've moved. As expected, I really don't have a problem living in DC. But I had NO IDEA how much I would miss the life I had in Kansas City. I LOVE my solitude - I could not possibly be better company (I'm entertaining has hell). But I didn't realize I'd have these feelings of actually being alone - not lonely like Cinderella in her own little corner in her own little chair where she could be whatever she wanted to be (seriously, who doesn't love Rogers and Hammerstein?); but alone on a journey to my new life. There's a feeling of loss...like I lost the life I had and had to do it to get this new one. <br />
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But today I laid my eyes on my beloved Pat Brown Dixon and EVERYTHING I missed about that life hit me right upside my head. First, she showed up making it rain with a big ole bottle of Gates BBQ sauce.....aw yeah! Then, having lunch with her and just reminiscing about that other life of mine made me smile - but also made me a little melancholy. I've been seeing the fall events on Facebook that I typically attend - particularly Harl, Sloane and Dakota's Halloween Bash (stinky ole DC Halloween) and Wings of Hope (I MUST FIND ANOTHER OCCASION TO WEAR WINGS AND A HALO!!!!!!!!!) and even the Burning Sands stepshow where the ever dramatic Jackie Jones gets irritated with me for not wanting to go and not wanting to take my check for a donation (I wonder if her sorors know she didn't want my donation). BTW, I went last year and had a blast and was very much so planning to attend this year. But dammit, I need to be able to have a choice as to whether or not I'm going....I do not take kindly to these choices being made for me (to buy an airline ticket or NOT to buy an airline ticket - THAT is the question - my wallet holds the answer)!!!<br />
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So that's where I am...it's no longer a migration. It's a quest..a ginormous quest for this new life. What will it look like? How will it act? Will it be as freaking hilarious as the other one? I know I'M still funny; but will there be as many colorful characters? Will I find another Filipino lesbian lover (not really lesbian - and not that there's anything wrong with lesbianship)? Will there be a Tiffany to do a holy dance or start a revolution on cue? Will there be another M-Lissa to teach my Chile cheer to her children over break<span style="background-color: white;">fast? Will there be a Tina who'll appreciate the Amish? </span> Will there be a Chief to produce liquor like a magic trick? Will there be a Vanessa to say the N-word at JUST the right time? I sound like CAT asking all those questions. Will there be a question asking CAT?<br />
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Oh well, today I'll loosen the grip on that life so I can start to take hold of this new one. I'm sure I'll have moments when I squeeze that other one REALLY tight because it's comfortable and familiar like my grandma's robe that really needs some mending and darning or because that life was as tasty as my Kim Brown's bacon tomato tartlets. My arms are officially wide open to squeeze really really tight whatever I unearth on THE QUEST!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-12814023663243992322010-10-23T22:50:00.000-04:002010-10-23T22:50:41.239-04:00Today..This Day....Life As I Know It Has Changed!So this migration to DC is humming along. The five minute rule of unpacking and organizing has maintained my sanity. Giving myself until March 31, 2011 to get the house completly organized has relieved me of any pressure I would have been putting on myself. My Saturdays are my "dates with DC" days as I engage in a delightful courtship with the DMV. Well, today was a good day. In fact, today was a transformative day. Indeed, life as I know it will never be the same. I owe it all to two people I've never met.<br />
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First, I need tires. I've been needing tires for at least 3 months. My front driver side tire has a slow leak. I've been just putting air in it every other week and humming along because I just don't have whatever it requires of me to go get it permanently fixed. A FB friend that lives here in the DC area was talking about getting tires and I was just going to read where she got them and go there. No, not lazy - resourceful. One of HER friends mentioned tirevan.com and that they deliver AND AND AND that they guarantee the lowest price. Ok, this can't be possible. Exactly what I need, at an affordable price, and RIDICULOUSLY convenient. This can't be true...it just can't. I checked the website...shut the front door and slap me six ways to Sunday - IT'S TRUE! Hallelujah, he is risen and I'm getting my tires!<br />
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Second...and this is huge. A few weeks ago someone I follow on Twitter mentioned an Amish Market in Laurel, Maryland and was singing the praises of the fresh food and these amazing prices. I'm familiar with the Amish and their products and said to myself, "I want to go to there." Well, today I did. And I had the most GLORIOUS grocery shopping experience of my 46 years, nine months and 15 days on the planet. As a PROUD Chopper Shopper (holla if you hear me) I've been really missing Price Chopper. I absolutely positively love and adore Trader Joe's and that has helped take the sting out of missing Price Chopper. Well Honeychild, I walked in that Amish market today and the birds started singing, angels were rejoicing, and Gabriel was blowing that horn at everything I saw. It was as if me, Jesus and my Daddy (who loved grocery shopping - actually it was a bit of a problem for him - couldn't come home without a bag) were strolling the aisles and pointing to goodies and giggling like school girls. I had heart palpitations as if I were at Saks 10022 Shoe Salon, everything was 75% off, I had a 20 % off total purchase coupon and EVERYTHING was my size. I really don't have the vocabulary to express the superlatives or expletives to share my sheer and utter joy at this experience. It hit me hard and cut me deep...real deep...loins deep!!!<br />
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Then I began to wonder. Why don't I know more about the Amish? I started talking to them as they were ringing up my purchases. They were REALLY nice and I think we really hit it off. I want them to be my friends. I could rock those dresses with some bad tights and a hot ankle boot or clog. I will even wear the bonnet. (I need to see if it comes in another color other than white.) Bottom line, I've found my new grocery store and can't wait to do it again and again and again. Praise God from whom all blessings, produce, poultry, and Amish flow!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-81946371686507310332010-10-07T22:22:00.000-04:002010-10-07T22:22:03.302-04:00Migration 101The biggest realization about this migration to DC is that - Moving is my KRYPTONITE! I had no idea that this was my weakness. I thought I just didn't like it. I've always told friends I don't help people move because I hate it so don't ask me. The ONLIEST person I will ever help move anything is my Mama. And even then, I'll pay somebody to do it for her. So the fact that I had to move for this job did bring on some anxiety but I figured I could handle it since movers would be coming to pack me up and would unpack me upon my arrival in DC. <br />
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Let's take a moment and roll back to 2005. I bought a house and was actually excited about it. On closing day, I'd gone to work and had lunch with a client and was excitedly headed out the door to closing. As I started the 20 minute drive, something came over me and tears started to flow. By the time I arrived at the office for the closing, I was just one level below hysterical. <br />
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Now any of you who've purchased a home know there are a LOT of papers to sign. After I signed the FIRST paper, I cried a few tears. By the time, I'd sign the last paper, I was audibly wailing...WAILING! After that, I had to go buy paint at the Home Depot. All that poor young fella did was ask me what kind of paint I wanted. I said the kind that goes on the walls and he drilled down further and asked if I wanted flat or something else...I still don't really know paint. I just looked at him and tears started to flow. I slid down the paint counter and sat on the floor of the Home Depot and cried HYSTERICALLY! That boy couldn't have been more than 22 or 23 and he came around that counter and was patting me on the shoulder telling me it would be ok.<br />
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Fast forward to Friday, September 10. I'd been in a DC hotel since September 1 so I was really looking forward to moving into the house and beginning the process of settling down. Movers arrived and started bringing things in the house and the heart palpitations began. Stuff was coming in the house fast and furious and I couldn't keep up with directing the movers around. Then the internet guy shows up and he doesn't have everything I need for my internet although I was VERY clear when I called to order my internet service. He kept asking me questions and the movers are still asking me where stuff goes. More heart palpitations and now tears. I WANT MY MAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Called Mama, felt calmer hearing her voice and reassurance. Internet man leaves and Directv man shows up. Poor Directv man...I'm not even sure what he asked me. But whatever it was, it sent me into a bout of Classic KT Hysteria! I am crying so hard I can't breathe. Poor man, he comes over and starts patting my shoulder and telling me it was going to be ok (reminiscent of the poor Home Depot boy - I wonder how he's doing). He kept telling me I had to breathe or I was going to pass out and he went to the kitchen and got me some water. I'm not sure what he was saying in Spanish. I think he was saying "This is a very nice lady." I finally calmed down a bit and he started doing his work. He's upstairs working and I hear a big noise. <br />
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Directv Man: Mam, are you ok?<br />
Me: I was just about to ask you if you're ok?<br />
Directv Man: (I hear him walking around upstairs). Mam, I want you to come upstairs to see something but you have to promise me you're not going to cry. <br />
Me: Ok. I promise.<br />
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One of the racks I'd had in the bedroom I was converting to my closet had fallen down and all of my clothes were on the floor. I just looked and walked back downstairs. Next thing I know another Directv man showed up. Directv 1 man had called for reinforcement!!! I think my calm had terrified him. The two of them stood in the foyer talking in Spanish and every now and then they'd look over at me. I think Directv Man 1 wanted Directv Man 2 to meet this very nice lady.<br />
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After they left, Mama called to check on me and told me to work on organizing the house for just an hour a day. The next day I started working on it and started having heart palpitations after 5 minutes so now I know my limit. Five minutes at a time. I've given myself until March, 2011 to be organized.<br />
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I will NOT ever again be in charge of moving me. In the unfortunate event, I have to move again, my mother and my sister (moving and organizing experts) will come to the house and direct movers to pack and then go to the new residence to direct the unpacking/organizing process. I will take one of my cute weekend bags and go to a hotel and come back when the home is ready for my occupancy. <br />
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Moving = Kryptonite.<br />
Knowing that moving is my kryptonite = Stress-free living.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-59121439293966058912010-04-07T21:06:00.001-04:002010-04-07T21:33:50.608-04:00Random Ramblings - Yet Another Reason to Lose WeightSo I'm watching 24. This chick that was kidnapped escapes with her man and he's in the driver's seat of the car and has to jump out to fight a bad guy. Well then, HE gets shot and she needs to get away. She HOPPED right over to that driver's seat and peeled out of there for her great escape. Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is "Damn, I wouldn't have been able to jump over into that driver's seat that fast!" It would have taken me soooo much maneuvering to get over there without getting out of the car and if I'd gotten out to run around I would have gotten shot, too! I will NOT allow being of generous girth to get me shot! Plus, although I plan to be cremated I sure don't want to die fat. That would just make me die dead.<br />
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I can't blame it on being big boneded (I realize that's not a word), because I'm really not. And the funny thing is I never imagined being the big girl in the group. I was always way too sexy/fine for that, yet here I sit with these generous thighs and such. I'm going to have to find girls bigger than me to be my friends. (Current girlfriends, I'm not ditching any of you. I just need to find some bigger bigguns to make me feel better until I'm back down again - love all y'all). <br />
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Fortunately, I've started the transformation and I know what to do. My morning yoga has helped my flexibility and my knee TREMENDOUSLY so movement has been much more fluid. My new running (well walking for now) shoes do make me get up in the morning. Plus I told myself I don't get to buy anything for me until I’ve walked 5 consecutive days. And doggone it, I get to three days and then I miss a day. So blast it all I've not made the 5 day commitment yet - but I haven't purchased anything (non-necessity) either. So since my new shoes excite me, I'll keep at it until I make the 5 consecutive days, then 10 consecutive days, then a whole bunch more consecutive days and before I know it, fine will be sitting on my thighs again!<br />
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So there you have it. I've exposed myself - I cannot quickly climb over that seat (I bet bucket seats would be a real mutha). It's time for some tough love. I need you to challenge me and question me and prod me. KT, did you get your walk on today? KT, did you make 5 consecutive? Vanessa would probably say something like "KT, did you get your fat a$$ out there today?" Please note that these comments should come from people who know me REALLY well - others will likely get a thorough cussing! <br />
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Shout out to Mighty Monique for giving me daily reminders on FB. Every time you command something, I do it! The other day when you said to get water, I almost busted my kneecap running out of my office (ok, not running - maybe a light jog or a speed walk) to fill my water bottle. Thanks!<br />
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I'm feeling better and better every day and I PROMISE, when I get there, I'm going to be jumping over car seats like a hooker trying to escape Five O. Fine, I'll see you in a minute.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-28260933095223536572010-03-11T21:13:00.000-05:002010-03-11T21:13:32.998-05:00Pure Dee Love - No Need to Settle!!I'm going to have to digress even before I get started. When you think of something in its truest/purest since why do people say "pure d/pure dee" - it's pretty country but you know what I'm saying, right? <br />
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ANTYWAY....Because I travel sooo much, I get a lot of time to reflect. And an experience a few weeks ago got me to thinking about love. So let's talk about love - that pure dee kind that makes your skin dance, your tummy tingle, your eyes glimmer. Yes, all that. I was with my friend JackieJones who, if any of you know her, Pure Dee LOVES her Boo and he loves her right back the same way! They were talking (in front of me - I was NOT eavesdropping cuz I was actually kind of in the conversation) and the subject of marriage came up. And he looked at her in her eyes but it was as if he were looking into her soul and said without hesitation with the ease and grace of a man who KNOWS "Boo, I'd marry you tonite!" If you know JackieJones, she plays a real good Betty Badass but she's as soft and mushy as an over ripe peach. And when he said it, I saw her visibly inhale as if she were surprised but excited and equally ready. What's real funny is I got heart palpitations as if he were talking to me. I know he wasn't and I don't want him or nothing silly like that - I just caught up in their moment!<br />
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So it got me to thinking about THAT kind of love. I've seen many couples in my 46 years - hell, I've been a member of a couple many times throughout these 46 and have even been a married chick once. That kind of unconditional, genuine, completely accepting, non judgmental love is rare. I see couples who are there "for the children". I see couples who like each other and admittedly don't really have passion but love the companionship. I've seen the gamut - some of which make me think I'd be suicidal if I were in their shoes. I used to work with a girl whose husband worked in the same building and she would literally get nervous and giddy when he came up to the office to see her like they'd just started dating. When he would leave - it was like she was in the afterglow of being in his presence and couldn't wait to see him again when she got home! She is still like that today - and it's been more than 10 years. I won't even get started on how my Lissa LOVES the site of her man and how Monica's stories have me grinning from ear to ear for several days on end! I'm in awe of that. When I see it, it warms my heart.<br />
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Having been divorced for nearly 20 years, I've done my share of dating. And there are soooo many stories to tell about it...the man who LOVED cashews and kept tossing them in his mouth during our conversation and chewing them with his mouth open so they spewed forth toward me; then there was the judge who looked like a pimp and told me he'd turn me out; then there was the fella who couldn't say his "V's" and his favorite car was a Volvo ("Yeah Ima get one of those Bolbos one day"); and the stories go on and on.<br />
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Fortunately, I'm not looking to get married again - that's just not a necessity for me. And I certainly don't begrudge those who do want that. I don't need a legality to confirm my Pure Dee. We can both be completely euphoric and still have our own homes with keys to the other's home. I just love the utter euphoria of it and that would be more than enough for me. It extends beyond romance and sophomoric glee. During one of my Pure Dee experiences, this man quoted me 1 Corinthians 13:9-10, do you know it? (We talked about that passage being read at so many wedding ceremonies but for him - that was talking about love in a universal sense rather than a romantic couple). It says 'For we know in part and we prophesy in part; but when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away." He explained to me, that for him that meant - what he forecasted for his partner was merely a portion of the perfection that God had sent to him in the form of ME! He had no misconception that I was perfect (I did look at him side-eyed when he said that) but he said that I was perfect and complete FOR HIM. (He went on to assure me that he was complete before we met and I was also complete - none of that you complete me non-sense. Who wants half a person?) I LOVED me some him from that point forward and you KNOW what happened after that discussion. But there I go digressing again. Unfortunately, that didn't work out - I still LOVE me some him and he claims to love him some me...but oh well. But what we had has become a kind of a measuring stick.<br />
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Really, isn't that what we all want? Pure Dee in its purest sense and the certainty that comes with it - even if it's temporary. I'm a firm believer in the better to have loved and lost theory vs. never experienced it at all. I love that I have the capacity and ability to extend the kind of love that doesn't stop loving just because it doesn't work. That's the beauty of it. Unselfish, non-judgmental love like that wants nothing but to extend itself - and is typically rewarded with reciprocity. If I was completely unaware of the power of the Pure Dee, I very well might settle for the very nice fella who's a "good man". But I would be bored to death and would probably kill him for something as simple as coming over my house and putting the toilet paper roll on the under and not the over. The murder wouldn't be a result of the toilet paper, it would be a lack of the Pure Dee and the toilet paper would just be the catalyst for his untimely demise. <br />
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As I continue to date and meet new people, I'm thrilled to have hilarious dating experiences and even steamy encounters. But if I'm ever to consider a commitment, it's gonna take all the tangibles and intangibles that speak to my soul and make me get as giddy for ME as I was for the JBoos that night. The giddy doesn't go - it remains and is maintained simply by the power of the extension and reciprocity of Pure Dee. I'm encouraged and encourage you not to settle - I'd hate to be on or see you on an episode of Snapped because you settled. You know that show will NEVER go off Oxygen - and 20 years from now, someone will see how you killed him in a fit of rage over him buying mayonnaise and not Miracle Whip (but really, it was just a lack of the Pure Dee! <br />
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NO SETTLING ALLOWED!!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-10371644510289462672010-02-13T00:36:00.000-05:002010-02-13T00:36:59.742-05:00So Happy Being MeYou know I'm thrilled to be me...I mean, who wouldn't be? Thrilled to be you, that is. Think about it...we were designed by God, yes GOD with our own special characteristics, quirks, idiosyncrasies and other really cool descriptive words that make us all unique! While I might want Serena's thighs (they are some of my Lord's finest work) or Beyonce's knees (have you seen her knees? they are fantastic) or Michelle's arms (will I be able to achieve that if my arms are much shorter than hers?) or Halle's boobs (she's got a great set), NONE of them have the KT-ness that God specifically designed for me. So when someone tells me they only want a specific part of me for their pleasure, I'm just effin ANNOYED and I want to tell them to kiss the meatiest part of my black a$$. But I can't say that in certain scenarios (if I want to continue to get paid) so I just smile and say "ok" or something similar.<br />
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Let me tell you about the plight of happy people...(happy peole, holla if you hear me). Here's the deal. Yes, I'm a joyful person or as my girl, Jamillah, puts it - Joy Rising. On top of that, I'm pretty damn funny. And those that get to encounter me and enjoy MY joy, come to expect it. But guess what, that's not the entirety of who I am. It's tough to live up to that expectation. So I stopped trying.<br />
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Actually, I'm rather complex. I'm joyful, contemplative, reflective, observant, silly, irritable, completely inward, often outward, and a ball of other emotions that run the gamut. I've learned that the cauldron (Olympic reference) of emotions that I am make me far more interesting. I have the absolute BEST pensive look (ask me to show it to you the next time you see me). So when people don't get "Joy Rising" from me, they wanna know what's wrong and even have the nerve to demand it. You know what? I think that's selfish. And it REALLY irritates me - so much so that I wanna smack 'em or (in the words of my dear Jackie Jones) push them down - really hard, where they scrape their knees AND their palms and get gravel stuck in the wounds. Think about that - who in the hell are you to demand someone display a particular emotion or behavior for your pleasure and entertainment???? Give me a freaking break.<br />
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The next time you uninteresting, selfish people decide you'd like to suck the life out of one of us in the happy clan or demand a particular emotion from us - kiss it and know that you have the potential to get a good cussin (at worst) or slapped (at worster). Instead - DO YOU! Figure out how to rise (not a typo) your own joy. Look inward for what you want from me. I guarantee you it won't be what you'd get from me, but you may be surprised at what you can conjure up on your own. And guess what again - you NEVER have to worry about me demanding an emotion or behavior from you because I'm way too busy living and loving the life I have.<br />
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Be happy being you - cuz I'm really really really happy being me...in fact, downright ecstatic!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-85203457813653284782010-01-20T11:10:00.000-05:002010-01-20T11:10:45.567-05:00I've Arrived!That is - I've arrived on the planet. As of January 8, 1964 at 2:37am my mother and father experienced the greatest joy of their lives - me joining them on the planet! Yes it was even better than when my sister showed up 8 1/2 years later. She knows I'm the favorite, so this isn't news. Do you ever wonder what your parents thought when you arrived? Were they overjoyed, scared, relieved (that I was healthy until they found out later that I was crazy as hell as was established in my previous post), or any other myriad of emotions? When my daughter was born, I was just glad the PAIN was over! They were telling me she was beautiful, healthy and trying to show her to me. All I wanted to do was get more of those heated blankets and be SLEEP. I fully expected that she'd be around a long time so I could get to know her later. After I finally woke up several hours later and my husband rolled her in the room for me to meet her, this ridiculous guilt set in...I would NEVER be the mother my mother is. Oh Lord, what to do??!! I realized, she did not ask to be in the world so I had a profound responsibility to raise her right so that this world doesn't eat her up AND so that she'd be someone that people could not only tolerate but actually like...dare I say adore. <br />
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20 years later, I know her and I like her - actually, love her to death. She's pleasant, witty, respectful and absolutely delightful. So I'm going to take a moment and dust my shoulders and pat myself on the back for raising her to be that way. My mama says most of the problems in the world are because kids are not raised right...and as I encounter God in human form on a daily basis, I realize she's absolutely right!<br />
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I've been accused (actually, I've said it) of not liking kids. What I've realized is that I DON'T LIKE PARENTS! Well, I don't like the ones who don't raise their ankle biters knowing they will one day be adults - they will not be your little angel the rest of their lives - the rest of us don't see them as angels anyway (especially when they're staring down my throat in the middle of a grown-folk conversation - take your little a$$ outside somewhere and play!). And when the parents screw up, we just see them as little hellions occupying way too much space and using up our oxygen.<br />
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Those of us who got our a$$es beat when we did something wrong; were told "You bet not ask for nothing while we're in this store"; tried to throw a tantrum ONE time and only ONE time because the consequences were so grave that we dare not ever do it again; lost a tournament and did NOT get a trophy because we were NOT the winner - WE LOST; learned something from all of that. We learned that life is not fair all the time, but it all balances out. We learned that you will not win all the time; but it's ok and you move on. (BTW, I'm a much better loser than I am a winner - I've not quite got a handle on that gloating thing - sorry Mama.) We learned there are consequences and repurcussions for our actions (good and bad). In fact, I learned a BUNCH of stuff because Mama and Daddy were in the business of disciplining/teaching me and not coddling/babying me. Of course they protected me from as much as they could (I believed in Santa for a LONG time). But Mama also loved me enough to be realistic about the child she had which meant letting me bump my head. "You don't believe fat meat's greasy" is one of the things I'd hear right before or after a good head bumping. Mama even let me get married at 21 knowing full well it wasn't a good idea (I asked her after my divorce why she didn't say something and she said "Regardless of what I'd said, you're like your daddy, so you were going to do it - so I just hoped for the best"). She knows me well enough to know that I'm a little stubborn (much less so now than back then). She knows that I'm a procrastinator (which she NEVER hesitates to remind me about - I'm going to work on that later). She knows I'm never on time - which she can't comprehend because she's never late (ask her about needing to be at the train station by 6:45am for her 8am train and waking me up at 5:30am to make sure we're on time - I'm still traumatized by that). She just KNOWS me (sometimes more than I would like) and she LOVES me unconditionally - which is a phenomenal gift.<br />
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So as I celebrate this month of my birth, I thank my Mama, Bobbieteen Lavada Bruce Austin (now ask me why she LOATHES Lavada but has NOTHING to say about Bobbieteen-all one word) for doing right by me. Daddy, Maurice Snipes Austin - affectionately known as Tugga (rhymes with Sugga), had a lot to do with all my FABULOUSNESS too, so he definitely gets a shout out. They understood the basic principle that child rearing is more than a notion. There is no manual, so you have to wing it. But you can start by knowing - the kid will some day be an adult - make them so somebody will like them!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443507843269413151.post-42694943412419284242010-01-01T14:34:00.000-05:002010-01-01T14:34:07.658-05:00DO....DOING...DONE!!Well, I'm finally doing it! I've been talking about what I was going to do in terms of blogging for far too long. What better time than the first day of the year to actually get it done. I'm planning on a Nike kind of 2010 where I JUST DO all the things that run around in my head. This is a big damn deal because there is quite a bit going on in this moderately sized head of mine. My dreams are ENORMOUS which means the plans the Lord has for me are GIGANORMOUS (Jeremiah 29:11/Ephesians 3:20). <br />
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So...welcome. I'm looking forward to sharing my passions - in the form of rants (there is a lot of stuff going on in THE world and MY world that are rant-worthy); my favorite favorite favorite breakfast spots (it IS the most important meal of the day, you know); the stores/boutiques/retail experiences that bring me awe-inspired joy and touch me in the deepest recesses of my soul; and websites/blogs that I think are crazy kool.<br />
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Now that I've told you what I'm gonna do - a little about me. <br />
<ul><li>Once, I was trying to share something about me with a guy I'd met and I asked my friends to tell me about me. "Crazy as hell" came up a LOT! So it looks like the consensus is that I'm crazy as hell - in a funny she's so crazy I can't believe that girl said/did that way, as opposed to a stalky could be an episode of Snapped way. </li>
<li>I'm not a morning person - in terms of talking/chatting, that is. (This may have something to do with the relationship I have with my Bed. Bed is very possessive and never wants me to leave him.) What's really traumatic about this is that I have an 8:00am meeting at my workjob every day. All that talking just dances on my nerves. 10:00am is a really good time for me to begin people interaction. In fact, chatty morning people DO push me to the point of becoming an episode of Snapped.</li>
<li>I am a person blessed with the most extraordinary family EVER! And the wonderful friends in my life often bring me to tears...not because they've pissed me off but because I can't believe how wonderful they are. I see people who don't have great friends and I pitty them....like I wanna give them a hot pickle with a peppermint stick down the middle (don't knock it till you try it) and tell them it will be ok.</li>
<li>I'm a PK so I was raised in the church and love the Lord (but I do drink and cuss a little). As I've grown, I've developed a very personal spiritual relationship with the Lord that's waaaay better to me than what I learned being in church oh so many days of my young life. As a result, I don't judge people. I am a daily benefactor of grace and mercy - so when people do stupid stuff (as I have done/will continue to do), I just shake my head and say "Bless Your Heart".</li>
<li>I experience things like other people never do. These experiences have come to be known as Classic KT moments. I don't go out looking for the crazy ish that happens to me or around me but I take meticulous mental notes (sometimes written ones with pictures) so that I can share in detail with my family/friends/loved ones (or anyone with a sense of humor). And then we all get to share in those "remember when you went out with that judge who looked like a pimp" moments over a cocktail. (BTW, I do carry a flask that either has tequilla or vodka at all times).</li>
</ul>Basically, I march to the beat of a different drummer (I've never met this drummer guy and he doesn't drum before 10am, so we're good); dance to music you've probably never heard (in fact, I am an expert at chair dancing, car dancing, AND Bed dancing); and sing songs that have never been written (I sing songs that have been written, too - but the unwritten ones are classics in every since of the KT word). I love me and me loves me back (all in a mutually-respectable fashion). I am Classic KT!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05336420442624859398noreply@blogger.com10