movin' on up!

guess who's moving?

(three guesses and your first 2 don't count...)

this MAY have something to do with my last post about our stupid neighbors, but it also have more to do with keeping Mr. KK's late grandmother's house in the family, and reducing our mortgage a bit while we're at it.

so the plan is to buy his grandmother's house that needs A LOT of work. we're thinking we'll try and sell our house and move in the fall sometime.

all of this work with the new house includes giving me my dream kitchen (finally!) and a nice open layout that's perfect for entertaining.

the downside is that i'm really going to miss our current house (neighbors aside). i LOVE our house because it's old and has charm and glass doorknobs and built-ins and wide moldings and a perfect yard.

but, it's time to move on. it's in the next town over where we grew up with cheaper taxes, a smaller mortgage and 1.7 acres of land.

and while i promise not to turn this blog into a satellite HGTV site, I will keep you all posted with before and after pictures and all that good stuff.

i feel i'm about to embark on a journey that will make me intimately involved in tile, cabinetry and paint chips. and i can't wait.

i get the first swing with the sledgehammer!

it's no secret...

...that we hate our neighbors.

And last night, they gave us one more reason to want to pack up our house and get the hell out of dodge.

Current reasons we can't stand our neighbors:

1. They park their big-ass white mini van in front of our house ALL THE TIME. They apparently forget that they have a LONG driveway they could use, or a perfectly fine curb in front of their own house. And they apparently forget how to park, too, because they leave their stupid car right smack dab in the MIDDLE of the area, making it impossible for any other car to park in front of our house. You know, like mine?

2. They're loud. They scream all. the. time. They scream at each other, they scream at their kids. They scream at their parents. They never shut up.

3. It seems that neither of them work. Now while there's nothing wrong with that, I just don't understand how they survive without jobs.

4. They're both home all (see #3) and yet they still get Peapod grocery delivery (which parks and blocks our driveway) and they have a woman and daughter team that come in to help with cleaning and child care. They're home ALL DAY. They can't clean their own house and watch their own kids???

5. They have too many kids.

6. Their kids torment Vito every chance they get. Through the fence. Through our glass front door. One day they're going to be sticking their little fingers through the fence poking him and he's NOT going to be nice about it...

7. They're snoops. She constantly keeps tabs on our yard. He watches us from an upstairs window when we're enjoying cocktails outside by the fire.

8. When he uses the snow blower on his driveway (which is only 1 out of 4 storms to begin with), he blows the snow onto OUR driveway, and all over the side of his own house.

9. He's a whiner. She's annoying.

And our new reason for disliking them:

10. She got a pet Guinea pig. That she carries around like a baby. (I'm sorry, I love Vito like a human, but he's a dog. Guinea pigs are rodents.) She cuts grass with scissors for him to eat. She brought him outside to meet us – seriously – and just kept covering his face and body with kisses. Then she'd yell "Ouch!" when he bit her with his little rodent teeth. Did I mention that he runs around in the house and on the furniture, leaving little rodent droppings?

I was thisclose to telling her that Vito had killed a rodent once...

spring! you finally made it! i've been waiting for you...

Some of my springtime favorites:

It's still a wee bit chilly in the morning...good to have a light scarf for warmth and a pop of color (Old Navy)
My go-to spring outfit: denim skirt (Banana Republic) and a white T-shirt (flip flops optional)


Every shoe whore needs a few pairs of shoes to start the season...sexy go-with-everything heels (Calvin Klein from Piperlime) and colorful flats (Steve Madden from DSW)


And don't forget the nails! This color looks scary in the bottle, but SO COOL on. I got so many complements. It just takes a little while to get used to! (Sally Hansen at Target).

Happy Spring Shopping!

texts from today

kk: my boss asked me to help out on a project for breast cancer. do you think it's because i'm the only female creative director?

mr. kk: it's because you're the BEST creative director.

kk: you're sweet. but i'm pretty sure it's because i'm the only one with a pair of slut jugs.

Dear Mall Of America,

I sort of made fun of you, saying things like "the mall can't be THAT big" and "it's just a mall".

Touché.

You really ARE that big.

And while I was on a business trip and didn't really get to experience you the way I normally would have, I did have fun running around and riding roller coasters and marveling at your size.

I can now cross "visit ridiculously large mall that would take a week to shop" off my bucket list.

Hugs,
kk

PS: you really did yourselves in hiring that guy who works at that MagicQuest place. He seriously thinks he's a jester. It's kinda creepy. He LOVES his job. In a way, I'm jealous of his zeal. (but not his ridiculous hat).

no squares to spare

Today, we have run out of toilet paper in the ladies' room.

It's not bad enough that our office is bursting at the seams with too many people in one building, but 90% of them are women, and we have only 1 ladies' room.

1 ladies' room with no toilet paper.

To remedy the situation, someone put industrial paper towels in each of the stalls (because that, obviously, was the ONLY answer).

It's like rubbing sandpaper on your hoo-ha.

Or grating it like cheese.

if I still look like an 8-year-old, we have bigger problems

I always make fun of my mother-in-law – who used to be a teacher – because she can't go anywhere without SOMEONE yelling out, "Hi Mr. KK's Mom!"

It's gets to be a little ridiculous.

This weekend, it was my turn.

Saturday morning I made my weekly pilgrimage to the grocery store. While standing in the deli line, I saw someone that I work with. We make some small talk, her 18 month old son ignored my hellos and silly questions (read: kids hate me) and she went on her merry way.

I then successfully avoided a friend's brother.

But then, as I turned my cart around, a girl about my age was standing in front of me, staring at me. "Hi," she said. "Do you remember me?"

I would say, that whenever anyone asks me that question, the answer will undoubtedly be 'no'. Because I don't remember anyone. Please don't take it personally.

HER: "It's me, Katie Marrone*."
(*Fake name)

And let me tell you, I haven't seen Katie Marrone since I was about 8 years old. And I'd be lying if I said that there was even the slightest recognition of her face on my part.

Katie, however, recognized me in an instant. Like, she went out of her way to say hello. It's been 20 years since we've seen each other. Please tell me I've changed even a little bit in the last two decades. Because there were some awkward phases I'd like to think I outgrew.

Katie started talking to me like we were just on the phone last week.

KATIE: "I have four kids, and my youngest daughter is making her Communion next weekend. Oh, and my second cousin? Dropped dead this week. Can you believe it? So we'll be spending the day over my Aunt's house today. And Kimmy? She's finally getting married this summer. She's the last one. My parents have 11 grandchildren! Crazy, right? How have you been?"

I wasn't exactly sure what to say to Katie. How about: 'Let's see, since I saw you last, I got my period, went through puberty, had an awkward short-hair phase that lasted 10 years, graduated 9th in my high school class, fell in love with Boston, got cancer, got rid of cancer, married Mr. KK, am doing really well in a job i really don't like, have novel inside of me that's dying to get out, I want a show on the Food Network and I treat my dog like he's human.'

ME: "Um. Fine?"

We said our good-byes and wouldn't you know it, I ran into her every time I turned a corner. There she was in the dairy section. I bumped into her in the bread aisle. Eventually, it was too stressful, so I took my 8-year-old-looking ass home.