January 2011

I wrote the following when I was 23.  Which, if you can believe it, feels like ages ago when I think of where I was then and where I am now. 

I was still semi-fresh out of college, still drinking with the college mentality of every weekend needed to be a binge.

Tony was living in an old farmhouse with a group of guys and needless to say, there wasn’t a whole lot of ambition permeating from the walls or anything.

I look back now and roll my eyes at the drama and the drinking and the…well…drama.  But I also smile because, well, such is life.  I’ve grown up and so has he.  We’re now active participants in society and on those rare occasions, even act like adults from time to time, what with the paying of the bills and that marriage license and all.

But, like all the different “periods” of my life, I like to read back on my writing at the time and reminisce about where my brain was at during that stage of my life.  I read back on high school writing and remember first falling in love.  I have “mystical, magical” written into almost every poem.  And maybe even a poem or eight about the beautiful tree house we’d live in on some remote island and ooo, look at those bees that just turned into flowers and we’re all in love, holy shit, holy shit, someone stop me. 

And then in college, when one of my senior courses was a seminar on the Beatniks, I definately had some crossover  influence.  Neal Cassidy characters and the bohemian bop-prosidy style.  I still enjoy reading that period. 

But some of my most interesting stuff came from the gap after college.  I read it now and realize how confused I was.  How torn I was between being that college kid and being thrown into the real world, talking about bullet points in a meeting on Monday morning and throwing back countless shots on the weekends.  It’s not pretty, but it’s reality.  And so I chose to share with you a piece of writing from those days.  Because that girl is mostly a memory now, but she was an important gap for me.  A bridge, if you will.  Let me introduce you.  She was a definate spitfire.

Like a Sudden Thunderstorm in the Morning

The sway of her hips

was already out the bedroom door

before she was done shoving clothes

into the recesses of her backpack,

navigating the zipper as quickly as possible

around bulges in the nylon.

His soft whine whistled through the air behind her,

lost in the wake of her steady gait,

and absent of steam before

it could negotiate her return.

Her tricep hardened with authority

as it lifted the bottle of rum

off the grimy kitchen table.

Without turning around,

the volatile weather pattern

housed in her petite frame

was out the door.


Today I am home from work, sick with a headache and sore throat.

I have watched 2 very old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.

I have stared at the thank-you cards on the desk and toyed with the idea of finishing the last 1/3.  I am still thinking, but I think another Grey’s Anatomy episode might help with my motivation.

I have also mulled over possibly making myself a hot fudge sundae.  First person to remind me it’s only 2 in the afternoon wins an Indian Burn.  Or a noogie.  Seeing as how we should probably keep to the theme of childhood ways-of-torment and all…

I had a whole long post to write about my Green Bay Packers, who are playing in the NFC championship game on Sunday (woot! woot!), but I started envisioning my extended family (who are Bears fans, but I try hard to see past that and love them anyway) writing all over my comments section.  And I don’t have the energy to refute their total lies about how the Bears rule.  Listen.  Your quarterback’s head looks like a toe.  When he grows a chin, then we’ll talk.

For all you non-football loving readers out there…my apologies.  I won’t get started.  When it comes to football, I start to get a little insane in the membrane. 

I almost fell off our coffee table the last time I watched a game.  Don’t ask. 

So if anybody wants to come over and make me feel better, you better come bearing gifts.  I accept sundaes, completed thank-you cards or Aaron Rodgers in his birthday suit with a Superbowl ring on his finger.  Actually, forget the sundae and thank-you cards.  A-Rod will do just fine.

Alright, peeps.  We have wedding photos.  And to all of you who are family or Facebook friends, I apologize in advance because you are probably starting to feel like I’m cramming these photos down your throat.

But to my blog friends…

Whee!  We have photos!

It was hard to choose which photos to show out of the over 500 we got back, so I had to choose my favorites.  Also?  It’s mostly pics of us.  I didn’t want to go plastering all our friends and family all over the web.  So while it looks like maybe we were the only ones who showed up to our own wedding, I assure you, we were not.

Photography credit goes to Front Room Photography in Bayview, Wisconsin.  They rock the casbah.

Oh heck. You knew I’d put the shoes first, right?
Tony and I did pictures before the ceremony. The next few photos are of our “first look” at the hotel.


Really. Who needs Glamour Shots anyway?
Are you there, God? It’s me, Katie.

I feel like there was something we were gonna’ do today. Guys? You remember?
Hello handsome

First kiss!
No one sends out like Stevie. We walked out to “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”
I HAD to include a picture of the centerpieces.
I made these also. Let the bragging commence.
Pick up your Champagne toast and find your table number. Win-win.
Our first dance was one of my favorite moments of the night.
One of many late night, snow shots. We got married on the first snow of the season. And let me tell you…it was cold!

Ok, I’m done harassing you with photos of only ourselves.  You can stop humming “You’re So Vain” anytime now.

Again, because I’m not 100% on how everyone feels about having their photos all over the Interweb, I have to be careful what I post.  You understand, right?

But anyway.  They finally came in and I figured my blog friends should see.  You’ve all followed me through a pretty crazy journey from being a bride-to-be to an actual wife.  On to the crazy journey ahead!

Things I’ve Been Avoiding:

1.) Hanging the rest of the artwork.  We have a bed.  We have a couch.  We even have milk.  I think we have this adult stuff down pretty well.  As long as we’re getting our basic food groups and a good round of Tetris on Wii, the art can probably wait.

2.) Throwing out the last remnants of our move.  I don’t even have an excuse for this, other than I’m feeling incredibly lazy and don’t want to have to try and smoosh this big plastic casing into a crumpled little ball that will take up the majority of our trash can.  So I’ll just stare at it for awhile longer.  Possibly with hopes it’ll find it’s own way to the trash.

3.) Laundry.  And most women don’t even need me to give an excuse as to why I’m putting it off.  “Laundry” is “enough said.”

4.) Tony’s bathroom.  You will have nightmares.

5.) Tony’s artroom/closet/man-cave.

6.) Tony’s closet.  May God have mercy on your soul.

Things I’ve Been Doing Instead:

1.) Eating chocolate.  But that might not be a good list item, mainly because I eat chocolate even when I’m DOING the things I normally avoid.

I eat chocolate on a street.

I eat chocolate on my meat.

I each chocolate near and far.

I eat chocolate from a jar.

~Katie Seuss

2.) Playing more than the average recommended daily dose of Donkey Kong Returns on Wii.  I have officially lost all feeling in my right thumb, but do not pity me.  I have beaten the much-hated mole level.

3.) I have hung shoes.  On my wall.  Because who needs to throw moving trash away when they can be greeted every morning with a sassy pair of shoes?

That’s it.  I need an intervention.  Please.  Someone.  Come do my laundry while I beat the Forest Level and win back all my bananas!

You know, I spend so much time on this blog being a cheeky, young thang that I forget you probably think I’m either totally fake or one superwoman with the good attitude and all.

Like everyone, I have my up’s and down’s.  I can be a total pain in the ass to live with and, in turn, so can Tone.  I could possibly, maybe be accused of a little bit of nagging (somewhere Tony is sitting at a desk in Chicago and just got a cold shiver up his spine.  Don’t worry Tony, I won’t nag you about that damn coffee cup you spilled on the counter this morning.  And left for me to clean.)

And I think I might just have gotten the point across as to why it’s not always easy living with him.

So, basically, the point is – we aren’t perfect.  Life isn’t always a big joke and a bunch of punchlines as I play it off on this blog.  We bicker.  We argue.  Sometimes we aren’t nice.

New Year’s Eve was a bit of a disaster.  Things started off alright.  It was all “Hurray! We’re newlyweds, celebrating our first New Years.  I’m so thankful for you and your love.  And world peace!  And throw in puppies!  Ohh unicorns and rainbows and blah, blah, blah…we’re just so on cloud nine!”

We made it to the bar, where we were having a great time, surrounded by a good 20 of our friends.  Then things took a turn for the…irritable.  It’s too long to rehash, however, the end of the night ended with us sitting in his car, having a screaming match at 11:57.  As I watched the clock hit midnight,  instead of kissing the love of my life, I kicked his dashboard and stormed out of his car, making my way down the sidewalk in negative degree weather with a hoodie and a pair of 4 inch heels.  I’ve never given you any reason to believe I’m dramatic, have I?

New Year’s Day was spent avoiding each other after we slept in different bedrooms.  He holed himself up in his art room and I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for longer than I care to admit.  I think I finally had enough sense to make myself some breakfast around the time the sun went down.  It was  a pretty shitty day,  is all.

We finally talked about it and said our apologies and shared a January 1st – New Year’s kiss.  I won’t pretend that I’m not disappointed that it wasn’t at the stroke of Midnight, surrounded by cheering and Auld Lang Syne, but what can you do…

Why am I telling  you all this?  Because it’s important to remember we’re all a bunch of idiots still navigating this thing called love.

Tony and I will never be perfect.  He’ll always be the one who forgets his coffee cups around the house and I’ll always be the one with the short fuse.  But this New Years taught me how important it is to communicate with each other and also reminded me just how much I truly love him when I was so upset that his kiss wasn’t the first thing to greet me in 2011. 

So, Tony, I’m sorry that our New Year’s didn’t start off the way we were hoping.  I’d like to blame the new, red hair for turning me into a fiery little flame that night, but I know you’d just snort at that excuse.  So, instead, let me just say, I hope this year’s motto is: In like a lion, out like a lamb.  Or maybe…out WITH a lamb?   Wink, wink. 

Tony?  Get back here!