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Dear LulaRoe, aka my new favorite thing

random me February 20, 2016

How I love thee, let me count the ways. Ok, before I start waxing poetic about my new favorite clothing thing (LulaRoe) , let me tell you how I got to this place.

Weight, specifically mine, has been a problem for a while. Ok, truthfully, since I was a teenager, but let’s not split hairs. Over the past 6 months, I’d packed on enough pounds that most of my clothes were not fitting me in a way that I could comfortably wear out in public. Not quite worth throwing everything away and dedicating myself to a life in mumus, but close. Since, the early winter, I’d been on a constant cycle of steroids (hello 19 lbs) and then I jacked up my foot in a way that pretty much had me sitting on my butt for 2 months. Pity calories, butt sitting, and there you have it, most of my clothes were pretty uncomfortable. I needed to augment my wardrobe for the spring in clothes that would have some flexibility as I start to lose weight (and I’m already down a few) and not have to go keep running out and buying more things with every 10lbs that goes away. . Yeah, I’m that person that will wear the same stuff over and over and over.

Enter LulaRoe. So, a few months ago, one of my girlfriends invited me to a Pop-Up (Home party) with this clothes and I blew it off thinking “nothing will fit, i don’t do cutesy clothes”. EXPANDING that, I, being the snot that I am, thought “i don’t need to wear Multiples” as a practically middle-aged woman.

Internet, I was wrong. Really wrong. LulaRoe is probably one of the most comfy clothing lines that I’ve bought. And let me tell you, I’ve bought a ton of clothes in all of the years I’ve walked this earth. SURE, some of it is totally cracked out crazy prints. And yes, Stephanie, if you are reading this, I DID BUY SOME, but the quality of the cotton knits is ridiculous. The maxi skirt? It’s actually a REALLY LONG SKIRT. Being 5’9 and a half, I tend to buy “maxis” and they become “kinda long skirts.” The one I’m wearing today? PERFECTLY LONG AND GOES TO MY ANKLES. It’s comfy, of a medium weight, so that some of the lumps of me, don’t show through, and is something that I was totally ok with running around town AND working in my garden.

lularoe maxi skirt

Why yes, I am wearing a skirt and chucks.

I should also add a caveat here. I work from home. My normal uniform involves some nasty yoga pants and either a wife beater (in the summer) or a sweatshirt (in the not summer months.) I rarely ever feel put together, and frankly don’t care.

lularoe t&c leggings

Back to LulaRoe. So, in addition to these home Pop Ups,  you can also buy the stuff on these random Facebook pages like my friend Samanthas.  She uploads new inventory and you can claim it. Sizing is pretty simple XS to XXL, and the leggings come in two sizes One Size (for 2-12 i think) and then Tall & Curvy (upwards to 22). I will say this. I am a firm believer in the mantra that your butt should NEVER not be covered when wearing leggings. No one needs to see that. LulaRoe also has a ton of great shirts- the Perfect T- which is strangely the best t-shirt I’ve ever worn, fits PERFECTLY (duh) through the shoulders and chest (despite my big ole chesticals), and the Irma, sigh. The Irma is kind of like a tunic, with sleeves that come above the elbow (thank you baby Cheesus for no cap sleeves), and COVERS YOUR BUTT. I mean, my primary goal in life when it comes to clothes is two-fold (wrangle the girls, and cover the butt). The Irma lets you do just that. It comes in a plethora of colors.. I own a grey, and a white with a black stripe. In the Perfect T- i have a black, a greyish silver and a mint, because mint is MY FAVORITE COLOR TO WEAR IN THE SPRING.

lularoe perfect tee

 

Bottom line, for me, LuLaRoe just works. It’s comfortable for sitting around all day long hacking away at a million and three spreadsheets. It fits (which is nice right now), and it adds a bit of pop to an otherwise black/white and leopard print wardrobe. Again, Stephanie, don’t yell at me for the leopard. Embrace me. Love me and my affection for color.

 

Life is too short to be boring and wear clothes that don’t make you feel good about yourself.

Everyone needs a boost once in a while.

To learn more about this, feel free to peek over at Samanthas Facebook page HERE or come on over to my house on June 9th and try some on for yourself!

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let’s get it on…

random me April 7, 2015

You know your day is going to be awesome when the first song you hear is Marvin Gayes “Let’s Get it On.” Moreover, when the second song you hear is Morris Day and the Mother Effing Time “Jungle Love” , you can expect nothing less than awesome for the day.

The day was guaranteed to be awesome when I heard this… are you kidding me? This is what I get to have in my ears this morning? Thank you Pandora, thank you:

 

Spring has hit in North Texas. The world is covered in green shit. I sneeze more than I talk. I blow my nose 24/7. I wake up and hit the Dymista and as I go to bed, I embrace a full dose of Benadryl.

plantrape

Work is worky. No blog publishable opinion other than it’s just work. I did respond to an internal email this morning using the word “Giggity.” Google it. You will roll your eyes.

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Weezie, the black dog is doing moderately well for a mostly crazy dog of black lab lineage. I constantly struggle with the idea of getting another dog. I am, at the core, lazy. The idea of a puppy wears me out, but the idea of getting an older dog makes me sad, knowing that their lifespan is shorter in comparison. Right now, Weeze is doing ok being an only pup, and I’m getting ok with the fact that Guster is actually not coming back from an extended trip to the groomer. (Last nights dream.) I still have nightmares about his death. One might say that I’m still pissed. One might be right.

I’m purging things lately- clothing, books, random crap I don’t need. Making room for something new and big. Or just making room. Making changes in this little life of mine. Ready for the next step. Really ready for a new phase. Excited about opening doors.

Other random thoughts:

* In my fridge I have 6 bottles of champagne, 2 bottles of club soda, pickles and  yogurt. Sigh. Nutrition at it’s finest. My freezer is heaving with food as is my pantry. I just like to paint a picture of health and wellness.

* I am slightly obsessed with this blog: UnFancy

* Thanks to my friend Crystal, I have a big ole turkey in my freezer- I feel compelled to make this recipe: Lemon Turkey

* I really want to punch the person who screwed up the household budget. I really wanted to buy THIS, but stupid bills have to come first. Despite the fact that I am 38 years old, I still overspend. Or, in this case, I have to pay stupid money for stupid bills that we not budgeted. Stupid.

Final thought: Instead of writing epic Katifestos on Facebook, I’m going to try to parlay them into a blog. Try is the operative word. I’m really going to try.

 

Have a day that doesn’t suck why don’t you?

 

 

 

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Passion

random me January 19, 2015

Tonight I entered into a conversation with a friend about passion. It was a roundabout conversation- started with the lament of someone eschewing stability for passion. Meh. Passion.

When I think of the word Passion, I think of three things: 

  • the horrible, horrible tv show from the 90’s- Click HERE for a blast from the past
  • the passion you find at closing time at the bar (or so I’ve heard…ahem)

this song. yes, seriously, this song. i passionately love this song like a fat kid passionately loves cake:

But in reality, please do the following and I’ll be in passionate bliss: Give me my labradors, a solid bottle of red and maybe some chocolate. That’s my idea of passion.

Perhaps I could get all hot and bothered talking about my imaginary outdoor kitchen- complete with a ceiling fan, pizza oven, wine fridge and a big ass gas grill. That’s my new passion.  Oh, and a fire pit with cozy chairs. Wait- and a kick ass big ole table for the world to congregate. And wine. Did I mention wine? I’m passionate about my imaginary outdoor kitchen.

I’m passionate about my people.

I’m sadly passionate about the proper use of a good animal print as a solid accessory. Too much- you look like a hooker (or Peg Bundy- been there, done that.)  Too little, it doesn’t have the necessary bam.

I’m passionate about feeding people. All the people. I just realized I had guests over multiple times today and I didn’t offer food. What the living hell is wrong with me? Ah yes, I can blame my total lack of hostess skills on Guster. Right? I’m still kinda out of it. Or I was just rude. PS- I let people in my house and it wasn’t very clean. Sigh. Somewhere, Jude is having a stroke and Martha had chills. Neither knew it was because I am a borderline housekeeper. Passionate about cleaning, I am not.

I’m passionate about dogs. Specifically dogs of Labradorian lineage. Duh. If you’ve met me, you know this to be true.

That’s my passion.

I’m sure there are other things I like well enough. Maybe I need to step it up and find something to be stupidly passionate about. Or maybe I’ll just keep on living the life that was meant for me?

 

Just some thoughts… good night.

 

40 Comments

A Weeks Worth of Thanks

random me November 15, 2014

dathanks

 

This week was what some might consider a “Whip.”

Work was very worky, and life was rather lifey.

To try to maintain my goal of things I’m thankful for, I’m going to bundle a weeks worth right now…

#1. I’m thankful for grapes. Grapes turn into wine and that, as Martha would say, is a good thing.

grapes

#2. I’m thankful for Anti-Vert. The never ending ear infection is still tossing my ass into occasional vertigo (yay me), and I’m thankful that I have a med that will navigate me back standing up right.

#3. I’m thankful for Spandex. Yes, spandex. Spandex in jeans, leggings, tights and spanx. This doesn’t take a rocket scientist to ascertain why I’m thankful for something that will contain all of the extra “Kateness.”

corset2

#4. Best friends of eleventy thousand years. I could pontificate, but I’ll just say that I’m proud of us finally getting our stuff together and the fact that we no longer have to split a pack of toilet paper because we are so broke. Yay us.

#5. Dogs of labradorian lineage. They make excellent space heaters when it’s cold outside (and inside a 60 year old house.)

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#6. Kolaches. My dear sweet baby Nordstrom, I’m thankful for Kolaches.

#7. Naps. Despite the advancing years, I’m still thankful that a quick nap converts me from being a petulant child, into a semi-reasonable adult.

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Life is NOT Like A Johnny Mathis Song

random me November 9, 2014

Why is it that once you’ve been told you can’t do something, you really, really, really want to do it?

Example A: “Kate, you can’t fly. Period, end of story. You can’t fly until at least January, dependent on conditions A, B &C.”

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But I want to fly (no, really I don’t.) I want to go home to Michigan for the holidays and be surrounded in the glow of family. (I’ve clearly lost my damn mind.)

Reality? I really want Tim Hortons. I really don’t want to have my head explode en route to Detroit and gross people out with bleeding ears and bitching me.

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However, since my new ENT doc put the smackdown on any flying between now and well, what feels like EFFING FOREVER (mid January), I’m determined to get on the road, or in the air.

If you know me for at least a year (Tamara, John, Caren, Kim, Amy, et all….) you know that I am rather ambivilant about going home for the shitshow that is a Detroit Holiday. Family time, in extremely small doses is lovely, but more than a day or so, I start to get twitchy. To justify going home to the tundra at the most expensive time of the year, it normally requires a 5 day minimum visit. I should only ever go home for 3 days, 2 nights. This is the issue

Here is what happens (around the holidays).

I arrive! Horray! Oh Joy! Fa la la la la. Land, elbow my way through DTW, mom picks me up from the airport, and I beg for Tim Hortons. I suck down the caffeinated crack and brace myself for driving through snowy streets, and endless errands. Oh isn’t the snow just gorgeous? Look at the snow? Doesn’t Mr. B’s house look cute? Oh look at what Bootsie did with her lights? Oh don’tcha know this is just wonderful to be home…

Go to the Kroger/Liquor Store and stock up.

Bask in the holiday glow while mom does her mom thing. Holiday Glow could be exchanged for the words “wine buzz, liquored up haze.”

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Day 2. Energy escalates as mom decides to make 14 more dozen cookies, because the 22 dozen already made aren’t enough. 10 more trips to Krogers ensues. I start to whine about the fact that no one plows the Kroger parking lot enough and there is salt on my boots. Swing by Johns Good Time in between trip 3/4 for a quick cocktail.

Day 2- Evening. Fa la la la laaaing with a friend. Drink a lot. Come home/face plant on twin sized bed. Wake up three hours later as dad blows his nose outside my bedroom door. It’s so good to be home. Message my cousin Amy “why do we do this to ourselves EVERY YEAR?”

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Day 3- Christmas Eve. Oh Katie, let’s play Christmas music all day. Did you wrap your presents? Did you make your bed? Did you do your laundry ?What are you adding to your coffee? Isn’t it too early to drink? Oh Katie, did you really finish that bottle of Bailys already? Let’s make another list. Dad hands me all of his presents and asks me to wrap them. EVERY YEAR DAD. Every year. I love doing it, but it makes me laugh. Since I was old enough to stick tape on Walgreens wrapping paper, I’ve been wrapping for Daddyo.

Christmas Eve night- con dad into going for a drive to look at the lights. Possible stop at another local watering hole. Depends on the temperature at home. Text message my favorite uncle and say “why did I do this again?” Stop by Jerrys liquor one more time to ensure that we have enough for Christmas day…

Day 4- Christmas. Presents. Breakfast Booze. Cheesy Potatoes. More family. More booze. I disappoint someone at some point for life choices I made 14 years ago when I was 23. Drink some more. Find some tylenol, head over to another family members house and drink again. This time, get emboldened enough to go outside and smoke a rogue cig.

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Ya, I think I will be ok staying home this year. Documenting the daily travails makes me realize that exploding my head isn’t worth it, and for one year only, I’ll be missing the fun. Shhh- don’t tell anyone, but I’m really ok with it.

 

 

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