i don't even play a doctor on TV.

I've been in and out of doctors' offices for the last two weeks with a mystery illness. 
(Now, while that doesn't excuse the fact that I haven't blogged in three months, I'm hoping you'll be so sick with worry over my opening sentence that you'll forgive me. Please? Pretty please?)

(Also? This is a long post. But it's filled with humor, intrigue, me going batshit crazy and a poop chart. Plus I have to make up for three months of not writing.)

Let me start the story by saying I went on a business trip to Arkansas. Yes, this sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke. 

'What's in Arkansas?' you might ask. 

Well, farm land, for starters. Oh, and this small company called Walmart. 

'What's Arkansas like?' you might ask.

It's like a cult. A cult that's worth a gazillion dollars.

We have a small office there (like every other company/brand/vendor who wants to do any sort of work with Walmart) so I spent a few days planning promotions for 2014. Brainstorming is fun, so it wasn't a bad trip. Except for the fact that I was sick.

And by sick, I mean I had sharp shooting pains in my upper abdomen just under my rib cage that would wake me up in the morning, and flare up the minute I put any type of food or beverage in my mouth.

Good times. Especially when you're away from home.

I toughed it out, going to the office during the day and holing up with in my glorious hotel room at the Comfort Suites (try and control your jealousy), existing on peanut butter crackers and ginger ale, then treating myself to soup from Panera for dinner (all of which caused me to have pain, but I felt I should put something in my stomach, and when you're alone at a hotel in an unfamiliar place, you go with what you know...or what's directly across the street).

I went to a walk-in clinic, and the nice doctor told me she didn't know what it was and told me to take Prilosec. Then I came home and went to the doctor who ALSO didn't know what it was, but took blood work. I missed a day or two of work. I lost two pounds (not complaining here). Next up: abdominal ultrasound. Which was – wait for it – totally normal! So then they refer me to a gastroenterologist. And this is where it gets fun.

(This was a very long pre-amble for me to get to the part where I talk about how incompetent the doctors' offices with which I've been dealing are. Thanks for hanging in.)

The series of events went like this:

Wednesday: receive call from primary doctor, asking me to call the gastro office and make an appointment. Told my chart, bloodwork, ultrasound, etc would be faxed over ASAP.

Wednesday (five minutes later): I make said appointment for the next day.

Thursday: Gastro appointment. This is when the doctor and I played 20 questions about my poop. Interesting way to spend an afternoon. Every time I tried to steer her back towards my abdominal pain, she found another fascinating questions. Ooh...then we looked at the poop chart. If you've never had to pick out your poop from a picture chart you should totally try it. It's like identifying a criminal in a police line up, except it's poop, and it's not all that fun.

Thursday: Did I mention that my chart from my primary doctor never arrived? So the Gastro Dr had nothing to look at? And their offices were now closed and there was no way to get the charts today. Waste. Of. Time.

Friday (10am): Being the good patient that I am, I leave a message at the Gastro office asking if they've gotten my charts, and if they needed my help in obtaining them.

Friday (1pm): Receive call from Gastro office (yay!). Woman said she's calling because my primary doctor asked that I come in (WTF?). 
     ME: "I was there YESTERDAY. I already came in!"
     HER: "Oh, okay. Sorry."
     ME: "Don't you see that in my chart?"
     HER: "Do you live on Meadow Road?"
     ME: "Not in two years."
     HER: "Oh, I see. Looks like you have TWO charts here. Let me merge them. And look at that! Your files DID come over from your other doctor yesterday - they must've gotten put in the wrong chart."
     ME: "Can you please make sure the doctor sees my other chart???"
     HER: "Will do."

Friday (4pm): Receive a call from Gastro office (um, yay?) from the assistant with whom I left the message in the morning.
     HER: "Unfortunately, we didn't receive your charts from your doctor. Would you mind helping us out and calling them?"
     (you have GOT to be freaking kidding me!)
     ME: "Seriously? I got a call from Michelle at your office, telling me I have two charts and that the test results ARE here, WERE here yesterday. Can you please connect with her???"
     HER: "Two charts? Have you been her before?"
     ME: "Obviously."
     HER: "Maybe it was under a different date of birth?"
     (oh yes, that's it. the last time I came I gave you a different date of birth, just for ha-has)
     ME: "Can you please be sure my doctor sees the chart so she can review the tests and call me back with next steps?"

And...no call back after that.

If I was that bad at my job, I would be fired. And I can't waste any more time out of work at doctors' offices. It's ridiculous!

I am DONE with the doctors. And since they've ruled everything out, I'll diagnose myself: crazy stomach.

(I'm feeling a little bit better, btw. Just thinking about going through the poop chart with the doctor suddenly makes me feel better.)

Happy Spring, Happy 2013, Happy Back to Blogging!

wait...what???

I'm going to sound like a cliché for just a moment here but...where the hell did this year go?

I remember it being January 2 and I was heading back to my old job after my 18-month hiatus. Then Mr. KK and I were in Puerto Rico for, like, 5 minutes. Then I was eating my body weight in lobster on our family vacation. Then the house was filled with family for Thanksgiving. And now here I am, sitting in a living room void of Christmas decorations (we got a little zealous during the snowstorm the other day) getting ready to live the last day of the year.

2013 Wish List:

Run the annual Labor Day 5k and beat my time.

A BIG vacation for me and Mr. KK.

Mr. KK (finally) makes the butcher block cutting board for our kitchen island, so we can get rid of the makeshift ghetto plywood counter top we've been using.

Lose those last 5 pounds.

Be more selfish at work, and stick to my "work/life" balance.

Cook one new recipe a month.

Keep at the gym.

And, of course, be better about blogging.


Happy New Year, blog world!

Catch you on the flip side!



Do they still call it "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve" even though Dick Clark is hosting the big countdown in the sky?

kk's favorite things

Oprah isn't the only one who can have favorite things! 
(Though she can still be the only one who gives away her favorite things...this girl hasn't won Powerball just yet.)

It's that time of year...when everyone under the sun puts out their Gift Guides.

I've done the due diligence and scoured them all, and have come up the best gifts that are on my every girl's list.

Mixing bowls from West Elm. $59/set of 3

Cuisinart SmartStick Immersion Blender. $34.95

(this could be on the list because my immersion blender died right before I was going to puree the soup for Thanksgiving dinner. this is one of those tools that you don't use all the time, but when you need it, it's awesome.)

Mustache iPhone case. $98 

Mustaches are everywhere, yeah yeah yeah. For the record, I stole a beer glass from a bar with a mustache on it WAY before they were a thing. This 'stache-decorated iPhone case is a 'must'! 

Frye Melissa Button Boots. $328

I'm not sure if these were truly on a Gift Guide, or just on MY gift list. Frye's break in perfectly and fit like a glove.

Le Creuset 2 1/4 qt Saucier. $180

A girl can't have enough Le Creusets, that's what I always say!

This pretty blue goes amazingly well with my orange stove.

Essie + Bracelets = fabulous. $50

This girly collaboration from BaubleBar is one part Essie nail polish and 3 parts trendy bracelet. Design your own collection in a variety of must-have colors.

Murray's Cheese of the Month Club. from $275

I'm a cheese whore. Even my high school questionnaire said so.

With all the junk mail we get, imagine having THIS deliciousness delivered to your door???

Julia Child's Biography and Cookbook. $17 and $40

My very own personal homage to Julia. Bring on the butter!

Aerie Fuzzy Popover. $50 

A top that looks luxe but feels like fleece? With a fur collar? Where are my leggings and boots??

 Corkcicle wine chiller. $24

This gift is so that I can keep the white wine chilled for my mother. But I love that you can keep white on the table without having a ceramic snuggie.

Pet Silhouette Art. $35

Vito will look fabulous.

"Made In America" skillets. various prices.

I don't actually want this, considering the "Connecticut" pan is $250 and barely fit a fried egg. But how cool are these???

Happy Shopping!

Next up: Thanksgiving recap.

A blog post 20 years in the making.

Last night was my 20-year high school reunion. 

(if that's not an opening line that makes you feel old, I don't know what is.)

I don't know if I would have gone unless my friend D hadn't wanted to go. So, being the good sport that I am, I agreed to attend. And, since Mr. KK went to the same high school, he was coming too. (And, he would probably know more people than I did.)

Some people looked EXACTLY the same. It was as if their yearbook pictures popped off the page and morphed into actual humans. Others, I didn't even recognize (mostly the guys, some of whom had puffed up from drinking and possibly eating other classmates).

I didn't really keep in touch with people from high school, so after the "what have you been up to for 20 years?" question, the conversation lacked a little bit. 

Social media has definitely changed reunions. Some of my favorite quotes of the night:

• "Hey! Your facebook posts crack me up!"
• "I love seeing all the places you travel for work. You always seem so busy!"

and my favorite:

• "You sure like to drink." (As a matter of fact, I do. And I will need a whole shit load of drinks to get through this night.)

And what was the million dollar question of the night? Well, it pertained to pushing offspring from your vagina. Some of those conversations went like this:

"Hey! Do you have kids?"

KK: "No, no we don't. Oh. Well that why you look so great!"

"How many kids do you guys have?"

KK:  "We have one four-legged furry kid. He's home-schooled."

"So, did you have any kids?"

KK:  "No. I don't have a uterus." (I may not have said these exact words...)

The other highlight of the night was opening the time capsule. On graduation night, everyone filled out a questionnaire, sealed it in an envelope, only to be opened in 20 years. You could also put letters, pictures and other paraphernalia in there. My friend D got a million (no joke) letters addressed to her. It was like she was the mayor of high school. 

After reading my questionnaire, it seems besides my new and improved hair since high school, not much has changed.

First, my handwriting is exactly the same.

QUESTION: What will you be doing in 10 years?

ANSWER: married and working in Advertising. Check!

QUESTION: Who are your best friends?

ANSWER: Well, of the 10 people I listed, 8 of them I hadn't spoken to since college. 6 of them were there last night. All 10 of them I probably won't talk to for another 20 years.

Question: What's your dream car?

ANSWER: White Cabriolet Convertible. I never got that car, but I DO drive a Volkswagen. Half check!

QUESTION: Do you plan on staying in your home town?

ANSWER: No.

Technically, I didn't STAY in my hometown. I moved to Boston. And the question doesn't ask if I currently lived in my hometown. So...check!

QUESTION: Favorite food?

ANSWER: Cheese. Check! Check!

QUESTION: Favorite TV shows?

ANSWER: My Two Dads and Blossom. Hey, it was the nineties!

My contribution to the time capsule was a mix tape. (Again, it was the nineties!) It was a tape that my best friend and I had put together and listened to that whole following summer before heading off the college (where we would realize we were different people and then never speak to each other again. Anyone noticing a trend here?)

A snippet of songs from that tape:

Brown Eyed Girl

Things That Make You Go Hmmm

Paradise By The Dashboard Light

Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody

The Joker

Jack And Diane

Baby Got Back

Mama Said Knock You Out

D:  "Ohmygod! You put in a tape! Can we listen to it on the way home?"

KK:  "Um, no. My car doesn't have a cassette player. We may never hear this tape again."

Oddly, though, if I had put in a VHS tape, that we could have watched. (Don't ask.)

I found one letter in the time capsule addressed to me, and it was from and ex-boyfriend. Mr. KK got a lot of miles out of that one, continually referencing his "nemesis". It was bordering on trying to be profound and referencing song lyrics and totally all high-schooly.

All in all, an okay night. I'm good for another 20 years.

And I was right: Mr. KK talked to more people than I did.

I'm a compulsive locker upper

Here's something you might not know about me: I'm neurotic about locking doors.

Double- and triple-checking the house doors.

Beeping the car alarm six times. Walking ten feet and asking, "Did I beep it?"

I like to think it's an endearing habit that Mr. KK finds totes adorable*.

Last night, in the middle of the night, our house alarm went off.

Holy crap.

Mr. KK ran to the keypad and said, "The motion detector in the basement made it go off."

Holy fucking shit.

And then Mr. KK shut the alarm and cancelled the call to the emergency service, told me he'd be right back, and LOCKED ME IN THE BEDROOM.

Are you fucking kidding me???

I heard him rustling around the kitchen (getting a knife?) and then open the basement door and slowly make his way down the creaky stairs. What if a murderer was waiting for him? What if they put a chloroform cloth over his nose and mouth? What if...

And then I fell asleep.

I fell asleep when there was a possible axe murderer in my house, and my husband might be walking into his trap.

It seems I'm so incredibly exhausted from work, that my neurosis are cured.

For the time being, anyway.

*This may be my misperception.

i'm a salty & sweet whore

Perhaps not a full-blown whore. 

Maybe more like a two-bit harlot.

Anywho, I'm a sucker for anything salty and sweet.

M&M's pretzel.

Special K sweet & salty popcorn chips.

Mini ice cream sandwiches made with Ritz crackers, vanilla ice cream and caramel. (OMG you have to go home and make these. They're the best white trash dessert you'll ever have. Recipe below!)

My new obsession:

Starbucks Salted Caramel Cake Pops.

Admittedly, I've only had them once. And only after I heard them described as "crack on a stick".

And if eating crack on a stick is wrong, I don't want to be right.


White Trash Ice Cream Sandwiches

ritz crackers
vanilla ice cream
caramel sauce

Using a tablespoon, spoon out vanilla ice cream and place onto a ritz cracker, being careful not to press to hard and break the cracker.

Using a teaspoon, put a bit of caramel on a second ritz cracker.

Put the caramel to the ice cream and make a sandwich.

They're messy, but amazing.

nablopomo FAIL

Apparently "blog every day the month of November" apparently means "write a blog post EVERY SINGLE DAY for the ENTIRE month of November".

I already messed this up.

How about this: you might not get posts every day, but you'll get them as often as I can.

Deal?

Work is crazy and I have a wedding to attend this afternoon.

So I'll leave you with one of my favorite signs in Boston:

Advertising at its best!

Happy Friday!