Freaky Friday

My life is pretty weird most of the time.  There are rarely days that something odd doesn't happen, but I've really been upping my game this week.  If this was the Truman Show, this could have been Sweeps Week programming.  Good stuff left and right.  Let's go back and take a look at some of the best/strangest things this week had to offer.

Wednesday

I should have known this day was off to a bizarre start when I found my watch packed in a box of kitchen knives.  Also found in the box: a rug , one hand towel and Husband's ties.  It was a good reflection of the progression of my packing strategy.  I was off to a strong start; everything was super organized. But as time went on and we were working against the clock, it became a fire sale.  Everything must go!

Later that morning, I received a Linked In request.  As I am accepting said request, I take a gander at who has been perusing my profile.  And what do you know, but a Private Investigator had been checking out what Kathy brings to the professional table.  I mean...this isn't a good sign right?  Why is a PI looking me up?  Am I under investigation?  And how bad is this guy at his job?  Aren't PIs supposed to fly under the radar?  In all seriousness, I'm concerned that this guy is on my tail.  Nothing good could come of this.  Unless he offers to help us unpack, then I'm totally cool with it.

Thursday

After competing in an adult spelling bee, I returned home to find a small flood in our new laundry room.  Also found in the laundry room was an angry husband yelling about not being able to find towels.  I started laughing and couldn't stop, which surprisingly didn't help the situation.  It was time to make an emergency run to Wal Mart.

As I waited to check out, I watched as the middle-aged man in front of me bought $172 worth of women's underwear and bikinis.  He was wearing an Elmer Fudd-like winter hat and paid in cash.  I felt uncomfortable about his purchase.  I had full intentions of commenting to the cashier about how strange that whole transaction was, but I didn't get a chance.  Because the cashier wanted to tell me about how the Vikings think of Hell as being cold.  It was unprovoked commentary.  It is still unclear to me if I had actually entered an alternate universe when I walked through those automatic doors.

Thursday Night/Friday Morning

I dreamt that the teeth of my comb were falling out.  I've read before that when you dream that your actual teeth are falling out, it means you are embarrassed about something.  I'm not sure of the meaning of your comb falling apart, but I'm almost sure it relates back to the private investigator.  Or maybe my subconscious is concerned about split ends, which if that's the case, my subconscious is totally shallow.

So those are the highlights.  I'm going to throw in another weird, wacky scenario.  Are you ready?

OSU will beat KU tomorrow.  Bill Self will get a technical.  We'll have four players in double figures, and Phil Forte will have at least four 3s.  I will come close to blacking out from yelling so loudly.  Immediately following the game, it will be announced that I have been named to a high-level government position.  After a thorough background check, including Linked In snooping, it was determined that I would make a perfect US Ambassador to...Italy! And I am to move to Lake Como and become roommates with George Clooney immediately.

Okay, okay.  Probably only one of those things will happen tomorrow.  It is also possible I will learn that dreams about broken combs represent delusions of grandeur.

Go Pokes!

Yeah...that's not going to happen

You guys, I've really been on a roll lately.  You know how King Midas turned everything to gold?  I'm just like that, but opposite.  What's opposite of gold?  Rust? Tin?  Fool's Gold?  Everything I touch turns into rusty tin accented with fool's gold.

You know how I keep writing about how we are trying to move?  That was all supposed to go down on Friday.  But then it didn't.  Super.

Here are a few of the fun times you missed out on by not being me.

Finance/Shminance

Anyone who has purchased a house recently knows that the amount of documentation necessary is ridiculous.  I get it.  Because mortgage lenders were letting four year olds with no income purchase multi-million dollar homes, we are all being punished with having to provide every financial document ever produced.  After turning over every piece of information just short of the restaurant receipt from my parent's first date, we were ready to roll.  Until we weren't.  I now needed to provide a copy of my bank statements.  The following conversation ensued.

Kathy: I'm not comfortable providing you my personal information and spending history.
Loan Guy: We have to know where the money is coming from.
Kathy: You already know where it's coming from.  I provided all of that earlier.  If I had it buried in my backyard, would you need pictures documenting me digging it up?
Loan Guy: It's the law.
Kathy: Great.  Please provide me a copy of said law.  I need to see in writing where the government needs to know how much I spent at Anthropologie last week.
Loan Guy: *No response*
Kathy: I'm going to need to speak with someone else.

Lo and behold, they didn't need my bank statements after all.  Weird how that works.

Moving and Shakin'

The movers showed up  on Friday morning.  A lively bunch indeed.  One of them commented, "These are ALL dresses?"  Me: "Yes."  Him: "ALL of them?  They're ALL dresses?"  Me: "Yes.  I have a shopping problem."  He walks out of the room and yells to another guy, "Man, these are ALL dresses!"  Years ago, when we moved from Arizona, one of those movers told me I had  "more shoes than Patti LeBelle."  At least I'm consistent.

Then they told us they couldn't fit everything into the truck.  Sorry, Charlie, the rest is on you.  We decided the answer to this riddle was to take the extra stuff over to the new house and leave it on the back porch until we could get in in a few hours.  What could go wrong there?

More Ajar than Closed

I'll tell you what could go wrong.  An underwriter could make a mistake on filling out the 729 forms you must sign when closing on a house and therefore make the entire thing void.  And thanks to the Dodd Frank Act, nothing can be corrected for three days.  Three days.  Thanks Dodd.  Thanks Frank.  Neither of you are getting Christmas cards this year.  I will also not be contributing to either of your reelection campaigns.  You're dead to me.

So, at the end of the day, we didn't have a home.  Or any of our stuff.  Except for that stuff that was sitting on the back porch of a home we didn't have keys to.  It was basically the perfect day.

Here's the silver lining.  Because I didn't have to worry about the stress of unpacking my stuff, you know, because I didn't have any of it, I was able to fully enjoy Oklahoma State sports this weekend.  No guilt of watching sports when I should be doing other things.  The basketball team finally won, and it was glorious.  They were having fun again.  More importantly, I was having fun again.  I deserved it.

I hope by the next time I write, I will have a home.  And stuff.  And all my dresses.

They can take my stuff and my home, but they can't take my spirit.  Or maybe they can.  I'm still waiting for the loan guy to send me a copy of that legislation.

Who needs a house out in Hackensack?

So I have this goal to blog on Mondays and Fridays…but ol’ life has given me a flippity floo lately, like what you might see in the winter Olympics.  I like to think that life is giving me the YOLO flip like they do in snowboarding.  So let’s examine the highlights and lowlights, shall we?

OSU basketball

 Lowlights:

Well, I’ve watched two heartbreakers back to back.  The season has been so disappointing.  So much talent.  So many expectations.  So sad. 

Highlights:

My NCAA Bracket should be excellent this year.  I won’t be clouded with convincing myself that OSU can beat anyone.  I do this every year, I somehow have them in the Elite Eight or Final Four each year.  There is something to be said about watching too much basketball, you over-analyze.  There is also something to be said about being a homer.  Guilty as charged.

 Lowlights:

Big fat loss to stupid Baylor.  It was tough to stomach, because 1.) The team played so hard 2.) Losing sucks and 3.) That shot to send it to OT was amazing, and then it all went away. 

Highlights:

I learned I can yell at the top of my lungs, “OH MY GOD!” when no-way-that’s-going-in-because-that-guy-never-plays shots send your team to OT and not wake my sleeping child.  #winning 

Also, Marcus Smart called out an obnoxious blogger for being so negative.  I’ve done it myself to no avail.  It made my heart so happy. Love to see internet bullies get put in their place.  Negativity is not good for a fan base.  He’s not good for OSU.  He’s good at GIFs and capturing replays off of his DVR.  Lame City, USA.  Population, 1.

Moving:

 Highlights:  

Hooray!  New house!  More room! Bigger, better, all those good things.  We are like George and Weezy, except we are moving north, not east.

Lowlights: 

I hate moving.  I hate packing.  I announced on Sunday that packing stresses me out and really made me want to drink wine.  And then I had a very sad moment when I realized that I had packed all the wine glasses.

Tonight, we ate wonton soup out of mixing bowls.  Following the heartbreaking basketball game, I made the decision that I HAD to have a glass of wine.  So I drank it out of a Joe’s cup.  College-version Kathy would have been proud. Hell, 30-something Kathy was proud.  Do what you got to do.  Adveristy.

Lowlights: 

Moving with a toddler proves to be challenging.  Packing things INTO boxes seems to go against her wiring.  She's more of a "take everything out and throw on ground" type of person.  She's also a "continues to try to escape through the garage" type of person.

Highlights: 

She’s still tiny enough that you can have “adult conversations” with her with no repercussions.  I know my time is short.  I was explaining to her what I was doing on Sunday and suddenly broke into Billy Joel’s classic, “Moving Out.”  I sang and she watched amused.  I then realized that I only know about 30% of the words to that song.  But you can bet your butt, I know the line about Hackensack.  Gold, Billy Joel, Gold.

I explained to my 1 ½ year old, “This is Billy Joel.  He’s great.  A musical genius.  He’s from New York.  Your father knows every word to his songs."  I asked her to dance, but she was having none of it.  She's a hip hop girl at heart.

 Illness

(here’s where I want you to feel sorry for me)

Lowlights: 

Our entire household has been sick since New Year’s Eve.  I spent NYE, Super Bowl Sunday and my birthday weekend in bed.  Tiny human has been sick approximately 43 times.  Okay, maybe a little less than that, but good lord.  When does it stop?

Husband has been complaining about not feeling 100% for several days.  After six suggestions that he go to the doctor, he finally did.  And guess what?  He tested positive for Type A AND B of the flu.  Who knew that was a thing?

Highlights: 

Husband is clearly an overachiever.  He has two flu's at once.  Cool story, bro.  We are all super jealous. Go big or go home.

Lowlights: 

We have to pack this dumb house by Thursday and Husband is out and the baby can’t pack anything effectively, I’ve tried.  It’s a one-man show.

Highlights: 

I work well under pressure.  I’m not likable during these times, but I GSD.  So Kathy will rise to this occasion. 

Tiny Human:

Highlights: 

I know I keep talking about this, but she is so super fun.  I honestly don’t know where all this charisma comes from.  I was a shy child and Husband was awkward.  Somehow, she came out of that dynamic duo as a super social crazy baby. 

Lowlights:

 I rarely understand what is going on in this house.  It’s just constant mayhem.  There are no parenting books titled, “Your child is a little insane, this is what to do.”  It’s every man for himself. Go on without me.  Save yourselves.

For example, this is a conversation she and I had on Sunday:

Me: You know, with all that food on your face, in your hair and all over your clothes, combined with your erratic behavior, you remind me of an old drunk crazy lady.

Tiny Human: Pen! Pen! Pen!  then runs away laughing 

Me: Yeah…you’re not doing much to dispel that rumor.

The Kathkey household is in some desperate need of some sunshine and positivity.  I’m turning to the Piano Man for words of wisdom.

“You may be right.  I may be crazy.  But it just may be the lunatic you’re looking for.” 

Preach.

Orange you glad you're a Cowboy?

Bless my heart, I'm completely exhausted.  But I thought I'd power through and write a couple letters.  Must keep pushing forward...

Dear Sports Media,

Do you think you guys could cover the Marcus Smart story some more?  I just don't feel like I've gotten enough.  Since there has been little to no coverage, I haven't heard the whole story about how after he pushed the redneck jerkface fan he shanked him, drained his bank account, punched his puppy, and left a flaming bag of poo on his front porch.  Oh?  He didn't do that?  No one was mirked?  Weird.

And maybe, while you're at it, you can move on.  He made a mistake that cannot be excused in any fashion.  He also apologized and is being justly punished for his crime against humanity.  Maybe you could focus on the lack of leadership on the sidelines.

Or maybe you could focus on Bob Costas's zombie eyes.  Seriously.  They are really bad.

Sincerely,

Kathy



Dear Marcus Smart,

I forgive you.  Actually, I was never mad at you.  I understand making mistakes...it's how I spent my 20s.  I applaud you for publicly apologizing to that jerk at Texas Tech.  We all know he didn't deserve your apology.  

Also, it's good you learn now that you can't react the way you want to when frustrated.  Stupid society has rules and consequences.  But between you and I, if I had had someone to push after that game, I would have too.  I was pretty mad myself.

Keep on trucking,

Fellow mistake-maker



Dear Coach Ford,

Well...things aren't good between you and I. I know you know that.  The wheels started to get a little shaky on the bandwagon after the West Virginia game.  In the weeks since, all four wheels have come off, the bandwagon crashed into a tanker truck filled with gasoline and exploded into a fiery inferno.  There were no survivors.

You are making something I have loved my whole life no fun.  You are turning my most favorite place on earth into a depressing setting.  You are snuffing out my sunshine.  You are scribbling on my masterpiece.  For the love of everything holy, stop.

Two thumbs down,

A former member of your fan club



Dear Sports Universe,

Thanks for letting me see one of the teams I cheer for (OSU wrestling) finally win.  It had been a while.  Victory does, in fact, taste just as sweet as I had remembered. Like pineapples and sugar. Do you think you could throw me a bone here and maybe sprinkle in a few more this spring?  Come on.  I've earned it.  I know that you have to suffer through losses to truly appreciate the wins.  Well, consider the first stage complete.  Let's move on to the winning part.

Three hail Mary's and amen,

A very depressed fan



Dear OSU Basketball Team,

For those of you still left, I'm still behind you.  I promise.  I'm still coming to the games, and with the dwindling fan base, you should be able to hear me yelling for you to rebound more clearly.  But seriously, rebound.  

Al Michaels asked me once if I believe in miracles.  I do.  

Go Pokes!

Kath

Loyal & True?

As I was leaving the Oklahoma State game on Monday night, I overheard a student say, "Where is Iowa anyway?  Is it north?"  His friend said, "I think it's somewhere in the middle."    His response, "Yeah.  I think you are right.  It's somewhere near North Dakota."  It was the proverbial nail in the coffin.  My basketball team is sliding, the fans aren't showing up, and apparently, our students are idiots.  Cool story.

This will be a little bit of a soapbox blog.  Take it how you will.  I need to get this off my chest and then move on.

One thing Oklahoma State fans do well, besides wearing America's Brightest Orange, is support their teams.  We pound our chests and toot our horns.  "We support ALL our teams, not just football."  "We are good fans who cheer for the Cowboys, win or lose."  "No matter what, we love our Cowboys."  To a point, it's almost obnoxious.  We spend a lot of time telling people what great fans we are.  The popular phrase to throw out is, "Loyal and true!"  It's in the alma mater, it must be true.

But is it?  Because everyone is abandoning the basketball team.  They are sliding and underachieving and you can't find a basketball fan to save your life.  On Monday, I went back and forth of whether or not I should drive to Stillwater for the game.  I was on day three of the flu and felt completely exhausted.  But I got in the car and made the drive.  Because, as I explained to Husband, "I will regret not being there.   I need to be there."  What a heart breaking feeling to look around at a half-full arena on a night that celebrated one of the greatest coaches to ever serve that university.  Where were you?  I'm guessing you were on Twitter, complaining about the current coach.

When did being a fan become solely based on who the head coach was?  Isn't it supposed to be about the school?  About the name on the front of the jersey? About the orange?  Players and coaches come and go, but the team is always there.  How sad that the fans aren't.  How sad that the fans choose instead to berate young men, no older than 21 behind the security of a twitter handle than show up and cheer them on.

As bad as you feel as a fan, imagine how they feel.  They chose Oklahoma State over every other school who wanted them.  Many of the guys on the team are from out of state, with no real idea what life in a town like Stillwater would be like.  But they came.  We had a reputation for a rowdy arena and loyal fans.  And now we have neither.  Now when they get older, they can tell their kids, "by the time I was a senior, no fans showed up.  I should have gone somewhere else."

So just do everyone a favor, stop saying you are a huge Cowboy fan if you aren't.  If you only cheer for them when they win, you should qualify yourself as a "fair-weather fan."  There's a difference.  And sure, you can be disappointed, I know I have been.  As the final buzzer went off on Monday, I shouted an expletive and promptly left.  But at least I was there.  I thought you would be too.