Beauty marks. Not beautiful.

I don't know many people that have upper lip moles.
But... I know that I have an upper lip mole.

When I was younger I thought that made me pretty cool.

My mom would tell me stories of old fashioned ladies that would draw little "Beauty Marks" on their face because they weren't beautiful enough to ACTUALLY have one like I did.

I knew it. I is. Hot shiz.

Beauty mark. Totally fake. Not hot.

My beauty mark. Marking my beauty.

Fast forward a few couple of years. 

"Hey Katie. You forgot to pluck your mole hairs."
"Katie's never been kissed. All the guys are afraid of her mole. And the mole whiskers."
"Katie your mole is so big. You can't tell the difference between mole and lip."
"My life sucks. But at least I don't have a mole like Katie's."
"Don't tell a soul. But I tried to kiss Katie last night and the whiskers stabbed my face. Took an hour to stop the bleeding."
"First thing I notice in a girl is her eyes. First thing I notice in Katie is her mole. And actually, that's the only thing I notice about Katie."
"Hey Katie you got some chocolate on your face. Oh. Wait. Nevermind."

So contrary to what my mom led me to believe, beauty marks are just really great to make fun of. And a really great way to lower self esteem.

"Please. With that mole? She was begging for lower self esteem."

The day I never met Julie B. Beck.

Neils sweet grandmother passed away last week. It was a sad week for all because Lucille will be missed. She was a wonderful woman.

And by "wonderful woman" I mean "rock star". Because about 3 billion people showed up to her viewing and funeral. One of those people being Julie B. Beck.

"WHO IS JULIE B. BECK?!" you ask.

I'll tell you.

Seriously. Look at her rad hair.

Julie B. Beck is somewhat of a rock star herself. (But she doesn't rock out, it's more all in the hair.) Julie B. Beck is one of those ladies that gives talks during LDS Conference meetings. And it turns out, I can pay attention the entire way through her talks. So. She's pretty good.

While she was going through the viewing line with her little, old mother, I was gearing up to talk to her. Mentally preparing. Planning the introduction in my mind. Daydreaming.

But meet her? I never did. Let's just say some choice individuals (whom I thought loved me) blew my chance by interrupting our ALMOST handshake.

I ALMOST touched Julie B. Beck.

Guess who didn't ALMOST touch Julie B. Beck. *cough*Sarah and Nolan Johnson*cough*. And that's probably because they totally DID touch her.

And as they were all touching her celebrity-ness and chatting with her, I got to talk to Julie B. Beck's little, old mother. Which is fine. Really. It is. I mean, she gave birth to the famous. So I'm ok with that.

Little, old mother asked who I belonged to. And as I answered.......Julie B. Beck turned back to hear me.

"Oh I'm actually Neils husband."


Silence. Neil's panic stricken face.


It turns out... I'm actually not Neil's husband.
I'm his wife.


Julie B. Beck's mothers' response? "Oh. Well. We love you anyway."


Julie B. Beck. And her mother. Think I'm a freak. 


I'm a wife. I'm wife. Happy to be a wife. Always a wife. Not a husband. My bad. I love you Julie B. Beck.

So My Mom is Falling Apart: Part II

My mom had surgery on her knee for something or other. Since her body IS falling apart, it's hard to keep track of what is happening to what part of her body. But I try.



This is the knee. The picture is fuzzy and upside down.
But you get the point.



















Here are my moms crutches. She sent me this picture because
she knows I've ALWAYS wanted crutches.
Just rubbing it in my face a 'lil.



















My mom's going to be sitting around healing up for a few days. And who better to take care of her, pamper her and nurse her back to health, than my dad? Am I right? Am I right??

Mmmmmm............... .   .    .

When my mom made it home today from surgery, my cute little dad quickly began his duties as "Kathy Caretaker". He left for the kitchen to whip up my sweet mother some lunch.

15 minutes later he came back with toast.

Toast.

Toast.

Toast. For lunch.

I'm just gonna throw this out there...   If any of you are in the general Star Valley, WY area...  And happen to have some butter on hand. Or maybe some cinnamon sugar. Jam? Jelly? Heck. She's even been wanting to give Nutella a try. Anything really. Just drop some by. Maybe?

Toast is going to be the main ingredient/dish for the next few days and she could use some help jazzing it up.

Especially since that's all her caretaker really knows how to fix (in 15 minutes).

Kthanxbye.

Mug Meals are for lonely people.

While Neil was gone, I decided to make mug meals. For all of my meals. They're cool cause they're one serving. It's kinda classy. And kinda white trash. A perfect contradiction. And a perfect meal for a lonely person. Heck mug meals pretty much make being lonely awesome.

Mug French Toast.

Mug French Toast Recipe


1 Egg
Some bread

Stuff some bread down in a mug. Crack an egg over it.
Microwave it. Pour some syrup on that shiz.


Eat it.

Coffee Cake.

Mug Coffee Cake Recipe

Google Mug Coffee Cake Recipe.


Follow recipe.


Eat it.

Tator Tots and Fish Sticks

Mug Tator Tots and Fish Sticks

Some fish sticks
Some tator tots


This one is super easy. Cook the tator tots and fish sticks in an oven.
Pour the tator tots and fish sticks in a mug. 


Apply condiments.


Eat it.

Lonely Inspirationals.

I'm really lonely. My husband left to go on a 3 day river Canoeing trip with his Cousin Garret in Wyoming. I'm jealous much. But more lonely than anything. And bored.

And what do I do when I'm bored? Pintrest. Now I'm not super proud to admit I use pintrest. It's kinda lame. I try to pretend I'm too cool for it. And I don't like people following my pins. And I don't really get how to use it. And I'll forever love facebook more. BUT when you're desperately bored (ex: facebook has nothing good, you have to work an extra hour at work, you're lonely and don't have friends) it's time to pop out the pintrest.

And that I did. With my first search being 'lonely'. (See how lonely I am??)

AND LOOK WHAT I FOUND!! 
Lonely quotes and pictures. That people...actually come up with. And pin on pintrest. 

Sooo TRUE!!! Am I right ladies?! You think you've got your
man and then he leaves. For a few days.
SO. DIFFICULT. TO. DEAL. WITH.

GAH! Pintrest just knows what I'm thinking and feeling.
It's like having a best friend that finishes your sentences.

A really great tattoo idea.

It's so crazy that this was on pintrest under the lonely
category. Cause this is the exact same thing I did when
Neil left. Did that for hours.

See?

Personal favorite. Because I've been wondering this all day.
Starting from the moment I pulled out my hidden stash of
cigs as soon as Neil drove away.

But before you think I'm desperately lonely and creepy. Don't get weirded out. It's ok. I'm ok.

I can't hang out with Neil. But I CAN hang out with his shirt.

I'm cuddling while Neil(s shirt) works on his computer.

See? Everything's ok.

Rain Puddle Strip Tease.

It rained today. And that means rain puddles. I know. You know. We're all aware of the puddles.  What you may be unaware of is how cool puddle jumping really is. It should be an extreme sport. And I should be the world champion. Cause I'd like to be. It'd just make me feel good.

I begged Neil to go puddle jumping with me. He declined. But since he knew I'd be lonely, and since I make puddle jumping look soo o o good, he stood far off to the side and took pictures.

I started with a full outfit. Sexy.

Mm mm. Would you look at those Keens? So sexy. I can hardly stand it.

Ok ok. Ya got me. Though comfortable, the Keens aren't sexy. So I took them off.

And then all of a sudden, it was like, if the shoes come off, everything else had to come off. Pop! Into thin air my clothes went. And I was left, momentarily suspended in the air, with my mothers swimsuit which she wore in the 80's. Since I desperately needed a new swimsuit, I made her mail it to me. And ever since I have patiently waited for the day when I could gallop around in my matronly, yet sexy, one piece. And today was that day.

Unfortunately however, I suspect the swimsuit's "shelf bra" probably gave out somewhere in the mid 90's. Which left my dangles...danglin'. Unsupportive swimsuits. Not sexy.

So if you know me very well, you know what my last/favorite resort was. 

Nude puddle jumping.

Ok ok. I lied. Though nude puddle jumping would be my favorite/last resort. We ACTUALLY took Neils last resort option.

And he only took pictures from the knees down. 

Crazy.

I was informed this week by my classmates that we had a book report due.

ON AN ENTIRE BOOK.

Cool. Backwards. But you get the point.

Or do you?

I hate reading. Reading is informative.

And I don't like being informed.

Especially when the book is about mental illness. And shares individual stories of people and how they went totally nuts thinking people where following them and the CIA was sending them secret messages. I had no idea this was like...a real thing. Like I said. Let me live naive. In this situation especially. Because now... I feel very unsure of myself.

Most examples in the book began their mental health battles in their early 20's. Which is not an uncommon age for schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, ect. to surface.

I'M IN MY EARLY 20's.

So:
Driving home from work last night, I'm pretty sure I saw a furry mountain goat in the road. Hallucination? Or maybe a government spy?

Last night I turned the lights off and went to climb into bed when I saw a tall skinny shape in my window. Curtains? Or maybe a government spy?

In the middle of the night I woke up to scratching. On our head board. I looked around but I couldn't see anyone scratching our head board. I'm now fairly certain it was a government spy. A mountain goat government spy that happens to be tall and skinny and have fingernails. Trying to send me a secret code that only I could understand.

I have to go finish reading my book now. But I'm scared to. Because there is probably a hidden code in there for me. That only I can understand. And then the safety of the world is going to rest in my hands.

Yo. This is the real deal. Not a face-in-holed, face-in-holed
picture of a mountain goat with fingernails following me.