Wicked Fun

Hey there friends,

I did not drop off the face of the earth, I just fell into a particular corner of it.

I am vacationing on the coast of Connecticut (well, here they don't call it the coast, but the "shoreline"). My pal D-Money and I spent two days in Boston and had quite an adventure there, and we've since returned to the warm comforts of my parents' home near the water.

I'll be returning to Nati Land probably later Monday and expect to post all the great and gory details sometime within the week. Today we're going to Pepe's Pizza in New Haven. It's widely regarded among Easterners as the birthplace of pizza. The little spot is a favorite hangout among Yalies (George Senior, G.W. and the Clintons all enjoy reminiscing about the old days at Pepe's when they come to New Haven) and despite New Haven's astronomical crime rate, you can always count on safety on Wooster Street. It's common knowledge that the Mob makes sure people feel safe on Wooster St. so outsiders feel comfortable visiting and spending money.

I think we're planning on eating white clam pizza, a true New England classic.

Cheers,
Kate

Spot On

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Your version of a story is the most entertaining, and weirdly, the most true. So, be as big as you feel when you tell your tale.


Kind of funny how right this is. I tell the good, the bad and the ugly, but I'll usually make you laugh along the way.

***

I have another date with John tonight. We've had a tough time pinning down another rendezvous only because he and I have both been incredibly busy with work. I had intended on packing and resting since I am going on a week's long vacation tomorrow (and driving 10 hours starting at 5 am), but I'm so anxious to see him that I guess I can make some compromises on this one.

Death and Taxes

I've heard it several times: there's nothing certain but death and taxes. How fitting that on this weekend in particular we get to consider both.

I made it to Easter mass today and discovered many a crowded pew at my lovely Saint Mary's church. For whatever reason, some believers only make it to church twice a year, and that's just fine with me. I'm a regular parishioner, myself, and I guess it's the pomp and circumstance of mass that helps me consider my connection to God.

The incense, the candles... it's all very traditional and full of ceremony, and that's just the way I roll when it comes to goin' to church.

Mass can get distracting for me. I don't know if it's because I have a tough time listening to the homily, or if it's because of the babies crying and the shuffling papers. For whatever reason, I sometimes find myself just thinking about Christ and his love for me (I know some of my regular readers might be surprised or intrigued by this sudden soliloquy on spiritual matters. Who knew there was more to me than just a Party Girl?) Today in particular, I thought about the journey I've taken in my adult years to get to my current state of spiritual awareness.

I've had some rough spots over the years, but the one constant was my faith in God. I've leaned on my prayer and conversations with Christ through the tough times, and somehow it's instilled in me an inner peace and knowledge that no matter what, everything's going to be okay.

Through the dark times, God has held my hand. Through the good times, God has held me up in praise, and I am so thankful in both accounts.

Today I feel so blessed in knowing that Jesus died on the cross to save my soul. He literally traded his time on this earth, so that I would know the time beyond it, and that's a concept that literally brings me to tears.

I am blessed in knowing that God will keep me safe through times of danger. God will hold me in times of loneliness. I will be able to lean on God when I am frustrated, challenged or otherwise burdened with something difficult, and I know that God will help me turn around any crisis I may experience, even when it comes to my problems of money management.

Which brings me to topic #2.

What better way to celebrate Easter than with a confession: I am an eternal procrastinator.

Back in 3rd grade I told my mom I needed to make a diorama with play-doh and a shoe box on a Sunday. The day before it was due. At night. Like, right before the CBS Sunday Night movie started.

Anyway. I'm up to my old tricks again, doing my taxes the day before they're due. I logged on to Turbo Tax and punched in everything I think I was supposed to, and it turns out I am paying the feds around 80 bucks, but I'm getting 350 back from the states of Kentucky and Ohio.

All in all, I'm not complaining.

I don't really do well when it comes to managing my money. I don't save receipts for things I could deduct (everything from magazine subscriptions and cable tv since I'm in the media biz, to normal things like doctor appointments, prescriptions, work related expenses) so who knows, I could be missing out on a major windfall from the IRS. My general philosophy for those blood suckers is: if they won't screw me, then I won't screw them.

So far, I don't really think I'm getting screwed.

But in retrospect, I think I'm going to start saving those receipts and keeping better track of where my cash is going. I know that's one weakness I have, spending money irresponsibly, and I guess that could be folded in to the sin of Gluttony.

I think the late 20s, early 30s usher in a period of self awareness and a desire for self improvement. I know what I do well, I know what tempts me and I know what I need to fix. Now I just need to do it.

I guess I better get out that checkbook ledger thingy.

When it's all said and done, I don't know if God will say I'm a good person or not. But I'm trying.

Dirty Laundry

It feels great to feel some stress again.

I kind of get off on the art of surviving those heart racing, blood pumping, frenzy inducing moments that come with life. I don't know if it has anything to do with my love for that whole Nietzschean philosophy, "What does not destroy me, makes me stronger."

The new show has really given me a much needed kick in the pants. I've been looking for a new challenge at work, and I've definitely discovered it. I have a chance to enterprise a lot of news thanks to the dayside shift, and I also have a lot more responsibility.

I'll post more of the fluff soon, maybe Sunday. Just know that the saltmines have gotten a little bit saltier in my corner of the world, and I'm loving every minute of it.

Random Thoughts Throughout The Morning

I've been holding this first one in for several weeks, but now I think I can let it all out:

Today is my last day on the morning show. Can I tell you how much I am looking forward to a normal schedule? I'm looking forward to the challenges that lie ahead with doing the 4 pm at a great station. I know there are so many great people to learn from and I'm looking forward to an opportunity to grow professionally and personally. I think eight hours of straight sleeping will be pretty chill, too.

I am really struggling with the whole The Man Pays concept of dating. I am a successful, independent woman and I don't want to come off as a freeloader, cheapskate or helpless. All my girlfriends tell me it's the way it's supposed to be. So men apparently get some kind of kick for bankrolling my happiness, whether it's at the movies, dinner or drinks? I guess I can get used to it, but I still kind of have a gag reflex thing going on. I mean, my debit card is just itching to come out at the thought of a date. What can I say? Maybe I'm destined to be a Sugar Mama.

My morning show peeps and I were talking this morning about the whole Duke Lacrosse Rape story. I know there are so many facets to this mess and still so many uncertain details, but come on. I think it's BS when they try to drag the victim's integrity and personal reputation through the mud. I don't care if a woman is a Vine Street hooker with crabs, track lines and a major jones for the crack pipe. She doesn't deserve to be raped. By the way, now you know where you can find me when I'm moonlighting...

When I go to Keeneland this weekend, I fully intend to be dressed to the nines. But with white legs. I haven't seen much suntime lately, and I am kind of opposed to the whole Tan in a Cancer Can thing. I'm really trying to stave off the wrinkles. How bad is it that photogs will be able to white balance off my gams (my apologies for the shop talk reference)?

Who's playing the Countdown to Tax Day game? I know I am. I am one of those down to the wire journalists who always makes my deadline... by the hair on my chinny chin chin. This morning I just started tackling my taxes, and already I'm regretting my procrastination. I've discovered my employer has been paying state taxes to my former state of residence. SO I guess Governor Bob Taft and his Ohio cronies will be coming after me for a bit of money. Anyway. I'm using Turbo Tax online and it seems pretty convenient. It's worth checking out if you haven't filed yet.

We're drawing closer to Good Friday. Cincinnati has a really great tradition, where for about 24 hours the faithful climb 88 steps up to the top of a hill to a beautiful old, church. Along the way they say Hail Marys and other prayers in observance of Christ's sacrifice. I'm thinking about making the trek after midnight in that gray area that some call Thursday night but others call Friday morning.

Speaking of Holy Week, I'm getting my Easter outfit in order. Is it okay to break out the white shoes? I know so many of those fashion rules have gone out the window, but I'm sure there are a few sticklers out there holding tight to the Memorial Day Edict.

Hopefully I'll be posting a little bit more frequently now that I'm not moonlighting with the vampires.

Kisses,
Kate

Breakfast Bite

From Friday's Feast

Appetizer
Name a trait you share with your parents or your children.
I am funny and am big on self deprecating humor. Let's face it, there's nobody who can make me look like a fool like I can. I love telling funny stories, being loud and otherwise amusing. If I don't know you well, it will take me a while to warm up. If you do know me well, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Soup
List 3 qualities of a good leader, in your opinion.
A good leader makes a decision and stands by it.
A good leader is honest, even when it hurts.
A good leader is fair.

Salad
Who is your favorite television chef?
I hated Rachel Ray for like, a million years, but she's so damn cute and has finally won me over. I love her recipes, I love her no big deal attitude and I love that she's also self deprecating. One thing I hate about RR: every reference to EVOO.

Main Course
Share a story about a gift you received from someone you love.
My mom was so proud when she scored an awesome deal on a red suede bomber jacket for me. This was back in 1990 when bomber jackets were all the rage. Anyway, it was my birthday present, and she hid it from me, so anxious for a "big reveal." Well, the sneaky impatient type that I was, I found the coat tucked behind some big winter coats in the front hall closet. It was a double edged sword: I was so excited about the gift, and yet I kind of felt crushed for ruining the surprise. The night before my birthday, my mom just couldn't wait any longer. She whipped the coat out with this huge smile spread across her face, just beaming at her clever gift. I totally played it up, jumping up and down, feigning my surprise. To this day she talks about how excited she was to give me the coat, and my big surprise in receiving the gift. She has no idea I busted her surprise, and I don't have the heart to tell her.

Dessert
How do you react under pressure?
I am calm. I might pop out a swear word or two, but other than that I do well with keeping things under control. NB-C, a former photog at my former shop famously said that I have veins of ice water. I think she might be right, but that doesn't mean I'm a cold hearted bitch.

Ring My Bell

Yesterday shockwaves ran through my being when I heard 50 Cent's P.I.M.P.

Now, I know I've already professed my love for Fitty, but I must admit... I'm more a U2, Sheryl Crow, Dave Matthews kind of girl.

But Wednesday that line "I don't know what you heard about me, but she can't get a dollar out of me..." was literally music to my anxious ears.

That's because John called. The date. The crush. The guy I've been pining for since Saturday.

Yeah, P.I.M.P. is now his assigned ringtone. It has to do with a funny story he told me on The Date that doesn't really warrant repeating here. I admit, it's an odd ringtone to assign a crush, but whatever... Sprint wasn't offering Magic Stick. Besides, I don't know him that well, anyway.

So after all the nail biting, all the bitching and worrying and emailing and relying on my support system to pump me up, I finally got some relief.

Four days out. That's apparently how long John waits before he calls a girl back after a first date. I'll tuck that away for future reference should I go on another first date.

This is the juncture in the blog where I offer some advice to the masculine sex.

I know you guys like to wait around a while before you call a girl back. Sometimes it's because you don't want to seem eager. Sometimes it's because you want the interest to percolate a little bit inside your conquest. Sometimes it's because you can't make up your mind. Whatever the reason, I have something for you to consider.

Think of this whole Waiting phenomenon like a Bell Curve. The interest you're wanting to develop? Well it kind of crests and hits a fever pitch around day 3 or 4, then it crashes and burns. That excitement and anticipation plummets, and your intended target just gets pissed off. Bitchy pissed off. "Why didn't you call me sooner, you bastard? I'm so over you" pissed off.

Basically, the relationship will jump the shark if you don't call in time. And that could be a big mistake, considering there's so much more to learn about a person after the first date. If nothing else, you just might be able to score if you call the chick back. But then, that could possibly speak volumes about the morals of your girl. Maybe not.

John just squeezed through the Portal of Positive Feelings by the skin of his teeth. Which is a good thing because I really want to give this guy a chance.

Question For The Peanut Gallery

It's officially Wednesday.

The Date was Saturday.

Should I be antsy that I haven't had a phone call? Should I call/email him? Should I wait it out a little bit longer?

Should I cut bait?

The general consensus among my Middle Of The Night crew is that I should wait 'til the weekend, possibly Sunday to touch base (should I not hear anything).

In the past, John has commented about not knowing when to call me because of my wacky schedule, so perhaps that's a factor...

All these questions swirling around in my noggin, mixed with hope, self doubt, second guessing, wonder and dread.

Whatcha think? I could always consider the epic wisdom of Swingers...

Mike: So how long do I wait to call?
Trent: A day.
Mike: Tomorrow.
Sue: Tomorrow, then a day.
Trent: Yeah.
Mike: So two days?
Trent: Yeah, I guess you could call it that, two days.
Sue: Definitely, two days is like industry standard.
Trent: You know I used to wait two days to call anybody, but now it's like everyone in town waits two days. So I think three days is kind of money. What do you think?
Sue: Yeah, but two's enough not to look anxious.
Trent: But I think three days is kind of money. You know because you...
Mike: Yeah, but you know what, mabey I'll wait 3 weeks. How's that? And tell her I was cleaning out my wallet and I just happened to run into her number.
Charles: Then ask her where you met her.
Mike: Yeah, I'll ask her where I met her. I don't remember. What does she look like? And then I'll asked if we fucked. Is that... would that be... T, would that be the money?
Trent: You know what. Ha ha ha Mike, laugh all you want but if you call too soon you might scare off a nice baby who's ready to party.
Mike: Well how long are you guys gonna wait to call your babies?
Trent, Sue: Six days.

The Date

I'm still on a high after Saturday night.

We met in the parking lot at the art museum. I was so excited on the way there... I could feel the jitters racing through my veins, leading to little synaptic moments of disconbobulation and jerky driving maneuvers.

It was one of those dates where you kind of gnaw your fingernails off while trying to decide what to wear. The low heels? I don't know how tall he is. Is the black V-neck wrap top too revealing? I don't want to dress like a school marm, and I want to accentuate a bit of the positive.

The hair was swept up in a nice up-do and I had Burberry Brit on all my pulse points. I was ready to go.

I finally made it to the lot and John got out of his car and approached me, hand outstretched and ready to shake. I opted to catch him off guard with a hug. What can I say... I'm a hug kind of girl. At least on dates.

I decided to trust the guy (I figured I could take him if the situation warranted a scuffle) and got in his car. We headed into Mt. Adams and cruised around as I tossed out some options for dinner. We made it to Porkopolis (former Rookwood Pottery restaurant. Review: Nice atmosphere, good food. I'd go again.) and immediately the conversation flowed. He's funny, he's animated and he's handsome. I was happy to have such a great dinner companion.

At one point in the dinner, I decided to get down to brass tacks (I was inspired by a recent episode of Dr. Phil. Lame, I know, but whatever. It worked) and ask John THE question. Why are you still single? He's got a great resume: 32. Single. Attractive. Good job. Well mannered. I could go on and on, and so I wondered why he was sans wife.

I liked his answer: he hasn't found the right person. That means he's not afraid of the idea of commitment.

Anyway.

After dinner we headed back up The Hill to go hear some live music. I was really touched when he grabbed my hand as we were walking up Guido Street. We made it to Longworth's and settled on a table that would give us a chance to talk. When I had my hands resting on the table and he put one of his on top. I really liked where this was going. Little bits of contact indicating a connection.

We played a couple rounds of pool and I couldn't help but admire his look. He's a couple inches taller than I am, dark brown hair and brown eyes, fair skin. John was dressed to a T as well, and I was soo thrilled about that, considering I have dating nightmares involving Member's Only jackets.

My favorite part is that this guy seems to have a good heart. He's Catholic and his faith is very important to him. Like me, John's been involved in some bible studies in the area (most of my best friends are from a group in Lexington). He's the oldest of three like me. He's left handed like me (okay, I know that's not a reason to start a relationship with someone). John appears very family oriented, something that's important to me.

Let's face it, I want the picket fence, the three kids, the Volvo station wagon. I want to go to soccer games on the weekends and make Mickey Mouse pancakes for the fam before church on Sundays. I think John wants some of the same things.

At one point we were standing very closely in the bar, his arm around me, when he planted a big kiss on me. It was exciting and yet comfortable. Not nervous. Not threatening. Not overly assuming.

Later, John told me he really wanted to call me again. I hope he does, because there's something about this guy that makes me want to get to know him better.

P.S.

More details on the date to come (I need some time to post about this one).

But I just found out a wild tidbit from Mom and Dad.

Whitney and Bobby are moving to the neighborhood.

Yeah. The Whitney and Bobby. They apparently just bought a house down by the water in my home town.

And this is a pretty milk-toast kind of town where the country club still only allows tennis whites on the courts and some of the narrow minded people don't like neighbors with unusual names.

Can't wait to start reading the police log in the neighborhood paper, this could really spice things up in Stepford.

Telegram

Hello friends STOP Kate has found a love STOP Who knew internet dating could be the answer STOP My heart has been whisked away STOP Will post more on the blog when I return from my whirlwind endorphin trip STOP Maybe I hear wedding bells somewhere far off in the distance? STOP His name is John and I am smitten STOP Is it silly for my to write in cursive what could be my future name? STOP Kisses, Kate STOP