The way things aren't

Today I walked down Broadway and thought I saw a Jack Russell Terrier jumping at a man's side. It was actually the man's black and white umbrella swinging from his arm.

Leo horoscope by Rob Brezsny

Week of December 11th

What country has more sand than any other? With its vast deserts, Saudi Arabia has got to be near the top of the list. Nevertheless, the Saudi government forbids the export of sand, worrying that it might eventually run out due to its construction industry's demands for the stuff. This irrational fear reminds me of you, Leo. You, too, have a certain bountiful resource that will never be depleted -- and yet you're chronically worried that it will. Please adjust your thinking. It's an excellent time to get more realistic about the true nature of your abundance.


Note from Katie: If you like Libras like I like Libras, or if you're among the many fans of Aerophant, please click here and read on. You'll be glad you did.

Sitting at the sidebar

My body is in New York, but for the past 3 days my heart has been in Oregon.

Waterwheel, from one of my new favorite albums--Out of the Woods.

Something's calling

I just wish I knew what it was.

Discriminating taste

Annie: "You know how you say you could never date a guy who wore Crocs?"

Me: "Yeah?"

Annie: "Well, I could never date a guy who wore Converse with skinny jeans."

Snap shot

Click here.

Reason #2,155...

...one should never post audio clips at their sidebar.

Monday

Been busy--still here.

xox

Sitting at the sidebar

Sleep eluded me all of last night--listened to music so pretty, music I'd not heard before today--and this one, perfectly timed with the rising of the sun.

"Yellow Bell" by Oregon.

Muchos idiomas

Tonight I was in a Cuban restaurant, speaking to an Argentinian, in my form of Spanish--a combination of Puerto Rican, Dominican, and Catalan.

Ignoring the signs

A few weeks before my abdominoplasty, David and I stood in a parking lot of a Long Island bowling alley.

"Look at that sign," he said.

"You mean the one that says 'No Trucks'? I asked.

Dave smiled, took me by the shoulders, made a slight adjustment to the position of my body and said,"Look again!"

Tuck to me

David: "Katie, you make that sarong look s'right!"

Accounting for taste

Two people told me the sidebar selection "sucked--" one was David and the other was a man whose musical taste, in my opinion, is beyond reproach. The man who sent the song confessed he didn't think it was very good, and my mother called to say she liked the lyrics but loved the vocals. I personally adored the whole thing, and the rest of you have so far remained silent.

I paid an arm & a leg...

...for my stomach.


21 days post-op, still swollen.


I'm not complaining.

Sitting at the sidebar

A friend emailed me this song tonight. He thought it would make me smile, but it made me cry.

Not sure why.

Onward, inward

Today I met a woman who on the surface had everything--beauty, brains, money, and a picture-perfect body. She also had a pattern of being with men who verbally and physically abused her.

She said to me: "There's a song that goes, 'I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life.'"

"I know it," I said.

"Well, that's what I'm waiting for."

"Then you're going to be waiting a very long time," I replied.

She looked startled. "What do you you mean?"

"Before someone can give you that day," I said, "you have to be able to give that day to yourself."

Sitting at the sidebar

For my friend Bruce.

Sitting at the sidebar

Can't sleep--got out of bed with this song in my head. I loved it as a kid and I love it now, and while I listen at the sidebar, I realize I'm someone who's never needed a romance to feel romantic, never needed to be in love to feel in love--but sometimes, on nights like this-it would be nice.

Conversation continued

Me: "Being in Sedona at the brewery sounds like a lot more fun than being home lying in bed."

Bruce: "That's true, but if I weren't at the brewery, I'd probably just be home playing solitaire."

Me: "If I were in Sedona and you were home playing solitaire..."

Bruce: "... you could come over and I could bounce cards off your stomach!"

Me: "Exactly!"

In real time

While lying in bed listening to Avalon by Roxy Music, I began to drift off to sleep. Then, this part of the song, the lyrics below--they made me smile.


When the samba takes you
Out of nowhere
When the background's fading
Out of focus
Yes the future's changing
Every moment
And your destination
You don´t know it.

Saturday night phone call

Bruce: "Hi Katie!"

Me: "Hi Bruce!"

Bruce: "What's the matter?"

Me: "Nothing's the matter."

Bruce: "Come on, I can hear it in your voice."

Me: "Oh, you think you know me soooo well!"

Bruce: "Have you been drinking?"

Me: "No I have not. Where are you?"

Bruce: "At the brewery."

Film review

Tonight I watched the 1994 film "An Affair of Love," the story of two Parisians who meet after one places an ad in a magazine, seeking a pornographic affair.

I don't know if the reviews were good or bad, and I don't care if it went to Sundance or Cannes. I deeply related to the two characters, and was captivated from the first frame to the last. And you've got to hand it to the French for making a film that you just don't expect, and one that takes a long time before it's out of your heart and out of your head.

Five stars from me.

Celebrity crush

Sergi López

Post-op preachin'

I took this photo today from my bed--just after lecturing Annie and Giselle on the importance of friendship, integrity, and taking the high road.

Quote

I'm convinced if we don't travel with baggage, we show up underdressed for dinner.

~David Kosh

Heavy Metal...

... soft as a flower.

Click on image to enlarge, then visit Pattern Recognition for more.

Saturday phone call

Me: "Hello?"

Elizabeth: "Katie, it's me--I just wanted to tell you that I'm standing in the Grand Canyon and it's much bigger than your belly button!"

Post-op day 17

I still want to sleep most of the time--that's Louie.

Photo by Annie Kosh.

Sitting at the sidebar

Day 16 post-op--now I'm talking to myself.

Click the music player and listen to me say a whole lotta nuthin'.

Conversations with my ex

Me: "Tell me some of the things you love about Lou Ann."

David: "She's smart, she's funny, she has a strong work ethic, she's creative, she and I share the same values and I'm attracted to her. Those are the big things, then there are other nice things--special, optional features like the fact that she cooks. It's like a moon-roof--not necessary, but it's nice to have."

2:00 am.

Too awake to sleep, too exhausted to take my father's advice.

Frogs don't eat turkey

Jump here.

The dance

Two weeks ago I took my overnight bag and left the apartment at 6:30 am. I boarded the "A" train, transferred to the "C," then got off on 96th Street and Central Park West. It was a beautiful morning, with a beautiful blue sky to match my good mood.

I took the crosstown bus to Fifth Avenue, then sat on a park bench and watched the squirrels migrate to spots on the grass where the sun was brightest. When it was time, I picked up my bag and headed to the entrance on 94th Street, just east of the park.

A well-choreographed dance--planned but effortless, rehearsed but not forced. The older nurse held my hand and lead me into a room--a gown, now another room, cold inside, onto the table, "Are you comfortable?"

The young nurse whose face I couldn't see behind her mask, stroked my arm before we even met. It was as if all the love her mother and father gave her was transferred to me--laid on the table, just like I was.

"A shot to relax you," said the anesthesiologist, and then I was. Relaxed.

"Do you mind this mask so close to your face?"

"No," I said, "I don't mind."

"You did great," said the nurse.

"I did?" I said. "It's over?"

"It's all done," the surgeon cheerfully chimed in. "And now we just want you to rest."

After the bath

Today I took a shower
Tonight I surrender to melancholy
Tomorrow I give thanks.

Mid-week interlude

Me: "I decided I'd be a much happier person if I were Paco de Lucia."

David: "You don't know that, besides, he's bald and ugly."

Katie: "So? I have hair and I'm pretty and a lot of good that's doing me tonight."

David: "Katie, it's only Wednesday."

Sitting at the sidebar

The neighbors are playing Journey again.

"Do I have to listen to this crap?!" I shout.

I get out of bed, struggle to plug in the speakers, and stick in my iPod.

At first I give them a dose of Coltrane, then a shot of Mingus--but then I think I find the Cure.

Maybe the neighbors will like it, maybe there's a common ground--maybe, just maybe they can start their own healing.


To listen, click the music player to the right.

Yesterday & today

Yesterday the rain stopped and the sun came out through a charcoal sky. I had coffee with a friend, visited the girls at the salon, and bought something pretty to wear for tomorrow. I got a bag of candy for Annie and her pals, and delivered it to the playground where they jumped Double Dutch. I walked the dog, made dinner for two, and watched a movie I didn't like.

Today I am barely able to move, and can only manage to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Film review

Tonight I watched The Squid and the Whale.

Fine acting, critically acclaimed, Sundance winner, nominated for an Academy Award.

Hated it.

Thanks giving

At today's post-op visit, I brought my surgeon a gift--a copy of "Six Word Memoirs."

Inside it I wrote:

"Dear Dr. Keegan, in 6 words: Thank you for making me prettier."

4:30 am.

Had little sleep, woke bound and burning--sideways now, can't catch my breath.

Sick of sicles, hungry for toast, no complaining, just make it art.

Ha!

Recovery day 12

Bruce called and made me laugh, mom called and made me loved. The neighbor sent over chicken soup and I shaved my legs. Chloé came late and we walked in the rain--and I got an ice cream bar, the kind with 3 flavors.

I like the distant sound of a car alarm and tires on wet ground--but tonight feels lonely.

Pain in perspective

Annie: "Is the doctor going to take out that drain from your wound tomorrow?"

Me: "Yes, and I'm terrified."

Annie: "How come?"

Me: "Because last week he removed the first one, and it hurt so badly I started crying."

Annie: "Mom! You had surgery! You could have died--you could have died on the table and you didn't! Now you're going to worry about having a tube removed?"

Post-op Girl!

Even though these pathetic pictures have all been taken from bed, I feel it only fair to report that in the past week, while enduring intense discomfort and sometimes excruciating pain, I have done more than eat Popsicles, take Valium and pop Percocets.

I have bathed a dog, shampooed my hair, washed my sheets and paid my bills. I have gone for coffee, seen my doctor, hiked 4 flights of stairs and had conferences with 3 of Annie's teachers. And yesterday? Yesterday I attended closing night of The Show Might Go On.

Now you may say that isn't much, but before I'm fully recovered, I do have bigger plans--they include fighting crime, saving lives, and maybe, just maybe, I'll have Proposition 8 overturned in the state of California.

I'll keep you post-opted.

Alert the media!

Annie Kosh has blogged!

Click here to see what's on her mind and read all about her latest obsession!

Sitting at the sidebar

I have to admit...

It's getting better all the time

I'm not lifting weights yet, but tonight I'm starting to feel like my old (young) self again.

Poor pitiful me

Wrote this around midnight--fell asleep before I could post it.

Screw this.

I'm sick of this.

I know I'm healthy, blessed lucky and loved--but after nine days of being relatively home-bound, I have turned inward. Seemingly overnight, I have become an evil, angry girl. I've managed to spare family, friends and the dog from my wrath, but I haven't smiled all afternoon, I've pushed the laptop aside and cursed David's remote, the one that never finds anything worth watching.

I know I'm fortunate and surrounded by love, but tonight I am an ungrateful and ornery princess--locked alone in her tower, wishing to be rescued and whisked away--maybe to Greenwich Village, definitely wearing something great, and most certainly by a tall, dark and handsome Romeo.

Doctor says two weeks to go--and when that day comes, believe me, I'm outta here.

Post-op talk

After waking up from surgery, I looked at my doctor.

"Did you cut me?" I asked coyly.

He laughed.

"I did."

"That wasn't very nice of you Doctor," I said. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to cut people?"

How deep is your love?

When my first boyfriend Russell saw my unclothed body he said, "Your belly button is the size of the Grand Canyon!"

Recovery day 8

It's official, I'm bored.

Going to David's to watch TV.