KAT's Take

Sayonara, Muffin-Top!

2010-03-07T09:59:00.000-08:00

Swimsuit season is comin', ladies. And, if you're like me, you need all the help you can get in the muffin-top area. So, here's my new fave low-carb recipe. It's dee-licious. (Tomato lovers, you have officially hit the jackpot.)

I got this from Muscle & Fitness HERS magazine. It's a great workout magazine if you're more advanced than SELF or Shape. (I'm not doing arm curls with soup cans.)

8 roma tomoatores
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
Kosher salt (I love Kosher salt. LOVE it.)
Black pepper
2 oz. fresh goat cheese (I don't include this.)
Serves 4

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Slice tomatoes in half length-wise. In a large bowl, toss with olive oil, fennel, and salt and pepper to taste.

Place tomatoes on a cookie sheet cut side down and roast for two hours. Turn over half-way thru cooking.

Place on a serving dish and crumble goat cheese on top. Serve warm.

124 calories, 4g protein, 6g carbs, 10g fat, 0g sugar, 1g fiber, 218mg sodium (unless I make it and then it's like 1,000 mg sodium. Ha!)

Have a fabulous low-carb recipe you love? Send it to me! Help me say "sayonara" to the muffin-top.

Winter blues

2010-01-03T11:44:00.000-08:00

The holidays were great. I saw family.

I watched movies. (Loved the Hangover. Julie & Julia? Not so much.)

I read. (Finished "The Lost Symbol" By Dan Brown. "Angels & Demons" is still my fave though this book had an interesting twist at the end.)

Watched way too much "Falalala Lifetime."

Hit the gym (I was there at 8 a.m. on NY Day, thank you!)

And, shopped. (Try Lucy for tall running pants.)

So, what's with my crabby mood?

In a word? Winter.

My tolerance for the cold expires New Year's Day. On Jan. 2, I expect the sun to shine, my air conditioner to click on and the pool to open.

But, it's not happening that way. At least not in KC.

I'm done with snow. I don't own a pair of boots. Well, let me clarify: I don't own a pair of functional snow boots. Sassy boots with pointy toes and three-inch heels, yes. Moon boots, no.

And, while I love, love coats, I typically buy em' based on how they look, not the level of down filling.

My bright orange Karl Lagerfeld coat bought last year at a thrift store is my favorite. (Talk about a find!) It's 3/4-sleeve and v-neck. It's 13 degrees today. So, while I love to wear it with all black and channel my inner Karl, I'm not sure it's what you call functional for sub-zero wind chills.

I keep telling myself, "Kater, you just have to make it to March. Then there will be glimpses of spring."

Yes, when talking to myself, I say Kater. And, no, it has nothing to do with me being cooped up in this house for too long.

I miss my bike. I'm done with the treadmill. I want to wear my favorite open-toe red snake heels.

I'm not usually this crabby. Really.

Oklahoma

2009-12-15T17:03:00.000-08:00

Something funny happens the first time a client attends one of our trunks shows.

They walk in. Look around. Look at me. Look around again. And, then, we hug.

It's like years of painful shopping memories are erased because finally, finally, they can shop "off-the-rack."

Inevitably, we then have a conversation about where they played college sports, what size shoe they wear, their inseam, if their spouse/loved one is taller and whether they'll wear heels.

Owning your own business has its share of ups-and-downs. But, it's these moments, when you connect with clients over having to wear men's jeans, bad prom dresses and shoes that don't fit, that you know it's all worth it.

OKC tall chicks do indeed rule.

Pack rat

2009-10-23T14:18:00.000-07:00

I was born without the ability to pack. It's like a genetic deficiency.

A two-day getaway takes my hubby 15 minutes to prepare for. I can see the calculation in his head. "Two days. That's how many Royals' shirts? Done."

And, then, there's me: Ms. Katie Overpack.

Our last vaca was for 10 days. Holy mother. You can't imagine the stress this caused. How am I supposed to know what I want to wear eight days from now? I can't decide what to eat for lunch.

And, then, there's that 50lb. weight limit the evil airlines impose. Sigh. Don't they know I'm tall and my clothes are heavier? (Can you hear me whining?)

I have been that girl at the front of the line sorting through my clothes for all the airport to see, looking for a way to make my bag lighter. Sometimes it just takes a few shakes of the bag -- and, maybe a kick -- and those pesky numbers go down. (If only losing weight were that easy, right?)

Other times, it takes luck. Like on the way home from our 10-day escapade, I knew my bag was over the limit. But, an (un)fortunate incident at skycap saved my tail. While checking in for the flight, I happened to gaze down and realized my skycap's fly was open.

"Hmmmm," I thought. "That looks like leverage." Well, leverage and somethin' else.

As the skycap lifted my bag on the scale (think Olympic-style weight lifting) and started to read the number, I politely informed him that his barn door was open.

Miraculously, the number on the scale no longer mattered. I checked in. And, me, half my closet, and all my vacation treasures made it home in one bag.

Would I have felt bad if the plane went down because I was over the limit? Well, sure....

Purge

2009-10-11T13:14:00.000-07:00

The hubs and I live in a condo so closet space is at a serious premium. I have dreams of my next house having a huge walk-in closet with a big overstuffed chair so I can sit and make wise decisions about what I'll leave the house in each day. (Here's a hint: It will be black.)

Until then, though, I'm stuck with only having the current season in my purview. The rest, is banished to storage until the seasons again change.

The benefit of having NO closet space though, is it makes you edit. With the arrival of a new season, I remove the previous season from my closet and divide the clothes into piles of keep, mend and donate. Thanks to the wise counsel of my sage mentor, Tim Gunn (he doesn't know he's my mentor), if it hasn't been worn in more than a year, it goes to the donate pile.

I'm not joking when I say this ritual takes me hours. It took me three hours last night to sort thru spring/summer. (Let's just say some tall woman shopping at Goodwill in KC with a size 14 shoe is gonna be REALLY happy.)

And, today, I spent two hours unloading my fall/winter clothes making sure they still fit and the slacks were long enough.

While the process seems to take forever (a good Julia Roberts/TBS movie in the background does make it go faster), I go through this ritual each season before I let myself shop for new things. This helps me avoid buying too much black (okay, bad example), determine which shoes I need to replace and what colors/tops I need.

Making the case for white

2009-09-07T08:13:00.000-07:00

I've never been a fan of the antiquated can't-wear-white-shoes-after-Labor-Day rule. For cryin' out loud, it's hard enough for a tall chick to find cute white shoes and now I can only wear em' four months of the year? No.

My quick Google search for reasons behind this unofficial fashion rule cited temperature and some blah-blah-blah about the color white reflecting light. In the summer, this of course keeps you cooler, but in the winter, it also makes you colder.

So, I'll put on some wooly socks. Big deal. Light reflection is not enough to convince me of the evils of wearing white shoes after Labor Day.

Another reason cited was etiquette. Perhaps I'm a little over-attached to my fabulous white heels but if me wearing white shoes in November offends you, we're probably not going to be friends anyway. And, I'm okay with that.

I'm going to continue wearing my fabulous white shoes right on thru fall. Who's with me?

Twitter

2009-08-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Confession time: I don't like Twitter. Yes, we have a KAT Clothing account (@katclothing) and yes, every major biz publication is writing about how fabulous Twitter is, but I'm not drinking the Kool-Aid.

You're supposed to post stuff throughout the day that answers the question, "What are you doing?" But, here's the deal: I'm just NOT that interesting. And, I don't want people to know if I'm getting my hair colored. (I don't. This is natural.)

And, when I hear ridiculousness like Ashton Kutcher and CNN racing to see who can get 1 million Twitter followers first, I think, "Aren't there two wars going on? Shouldn't CNN be covering THAT?"

Admittedly, I'm a notoriously skeptical adopter of things like Twitter. I rolled my eyes at Facebook and now I'm pretty much a junkie. I wasn't much of a texter (see Teribl Txtr) and thanks to my new Blackberry, I'd much rather text than talk on the phone.

So, there will likely come a time when I think, "How did I live without it?" But for now, even the name "Twitter" annoys me.

I'm not always this crabby.

Tie one on

2009-07-23T10:48:00.001-07:00

In the August issue of Lucky magazine, one of the writers discusses her love of neckties.

Ugh. There are certain clothing fads I participated in that I don't like to discuss. (Did someone say knickers? Mine were cranberry corduroy.) It's like a hidden family secret that's not to be mentioned. And, if someone dare bring it up, say at the dinner table, I give them that "shoosh" sound followed by a no-nonsense glare, a request to pass the salt and a quick subject change. There, crisis averted.

For a period of about 8 months in 3rd or 4th grade, I wore ties. I don't know why. I don't know where it came from but I thank God the urge has never returned. They sure as heck didn't look good. But, I loved wearing them with this pinky-peach cardigan I had and a white collared shirt.

My favorite tie was navy blue and had birds on it. Yes, I said birds. And, no, I'm not really an animal lover. I think the tie was my favorite because it was given to me by my grandfather's "special lady friend," Rose. (At our house, special lady friend is code for geriatric love.)

I can't be the only one who participated in this fashion travesty. Did anyone else wear ties? Or, better yet, what other fashion trends did you support that you'd rather forget?

Come clean. You'll feel better.

P.S. For the record, jelly shoes are off-limits. I never wore em' because they didn't make my size. And, I've never recovered.

My girls

2009-06-30T20:11:00.001-07:00

I have three best friends. Two of them, I've known since I was 13. My other best friend is my sister.

I absolutely treasure the history I share with these three women.

Though they all live in different cities, in the last month, I've been able to spend time with each of them. And, it has brought me tremendous joy.

When I sit down with them, it all makes sense. Things I couldn't articulate suddenly become clear. Doubts erase. Memories come flooding back. And, the hours fly by like minutes.

When we leave, there are always tears in my eyes. The kind of tears you get when you care for someone so much and you have so much history that your heart kinda hurts and words can't explain it.

Man, I love my girls.

My dad

2009-06-19T07:59:00.000-07:00

I have an awesome dad. Sure, he always has the TV on too loud, tells really bad jokes (something about watermelons going to John Cougar MELLENcamp's for the summer) and most of the time, I look at his outfits with a furrowed brow, but the man really does rock.

As an adult, you think you know everything about your parents. Because, after 30+ years, how could there be any more secrets, right? But, my dad continues to surprise me.

Last week he told a story about the Chicago race riots in the late '60s. The city was a hotbed of racial tension. He saw a black man leaving a building and realized this guy would have to walk through a mob of white men – who’d been drinking -- to leave. Seeing where this was going, my dad stood next to the black man, walked out of the building with him and there was no incident.

His commitment to doing the right thing has always been a powerful example to me.

Every parent knows that sacrificing time, money and opportunities comes with having kids. And, my parents certainly sacrificed for my brother, sister and me.

But, my dad started supporting his family in high school. There were often strikes at the phone company where my grandfather worked. But, a labor dispute doesn't stop rent from being due or the electricity bill from arriving. My dad worked thru high school to support his three sisters and parents.

I wonder what it would have been like to go to work for my family after school instead of basketball or volleyball practice. Because of my dad and his hard work, I never had to know.

I don't want this post to sound too Hallmark or mushy but I have a really great dad. He's wise, generous, funny (sans the watermelon joke), loving and most importantly, always makes time for me and my siblings.

I hope your dad is like my dad.

Eww de Parfum

2009-05-15T10:19:00.000-07:00

People, I can't make this stuff up.

Riding in the car last week, a girlfriend of mine started fishing through her handbag for a little jar of Vicks VapoRub. She put some on her lips and under her nose. Honestly, I was so busy putting on my own lipstick that I barely noticed.

When we arrived at the destination, she asked if there were any white traces on her face from the Vicks. I told her no. To which she responded, "I'm sorry, your perfume is just too strong for me."

(Insert sound of screeching noise.) Wait a minute -- what? My perfume is so strong that the best alternative is to slather Vick's on your face? Seriously?

Now, I'll be the first to admit, I over water my plants and I tend to over spray on perfume. But so much so that my friend would rather inhale menthol?

LOL. I don't even know what to do with that.

Overexposed

2009-04-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

This week, I put on a show for all the ladies at the local TJ Maxx. I was shopping for spring shirts when I was confronted with the terrible truth: The dressing room doors literally hit me at the bust. And, I was wearing flip-flops.

Sigh.

First thought: “I guess we’ll find out who brought their dollar bills.”

Second thought: “I’m hungry. Did I bring a snack?”

Third thought: “I hope no one puts this on the Internet.”

Then, I went to work. I strategically selected my dressing room away from the entrance. (We wouldn’t want a mob scene, right?) Made sure there were no cameras to entertain the elite TJ Maxx security team. Practiced my best bob-and-weave every time someone walked by. And, 20 shirts later, made a mental note that the TJ Maxx dressing room design team had to consist of the shortest people in the world.

Sigh. It’s going to take some time to recover from this traumatic experience.

Don't move my cheese

2009-04-23T05:25:00.000-07:00

I love cheese. I mean, I really love cheese. Technically, I'm allergic to it and not supposed to eat it. But, this week I've been re-introducing it to my diet to see if the ol' stummy can handle. And, may I just say, it's been a good week.

Cheese. Sigh.

Super Fan

2009-04-10T13:53:00.001-07:00

It's opening day in Kansas City. And, throughout the city, there's excitement around the Royals and the team's newly renovated stadium.

I am married to a Royals super fan. And, I mean super fan. Ya know those Star Trek conventions? He's the Royals' equivalent.

Much to his dismay, I am not a super fan. And, really, just barely, even a fan.

Before we married, I thought going to Royals games was about looking for cute boys and eating jumbo pretzels. I was shocked to learn people actually watched the games.

Before we started dating, my husband had never left a Royals game early. Whereas, I would start schlepping to the car about the sixth inning. I had to. I couldn't walk that fast in my heels.

I'll never forget one of the first Royals games we attended together. A foul ball was hit right next to me. It bounced. I looked at it. It kept rolling. Seeing the disbelief in my super fan's face still makes me laugh.

For the record, I am athletic. I love sports and I love to compete. But, baseball just doesn't do it for me. You can go the entire game with only the pitcher and catcher touching the ball. Bor-ing.

And, have you ever noticed how many overweight pitchers there are in baseball? You mean to tell me they're getting paid millions of bucks and they can't bust out a few sit-ups? I cry foul.

I will end with one truly endearing thought about my hubby's un-natural man love for the Royals: He sticks by them through thick and thin. He loved em' when they rocked in the '80s and he still loves em' now ... when they're not so rockin'. And, I love him for that. It makes all the jerseys hogging our closet, the signed baseballs cluttering our furniture and those creepy bobbleheads, palatable.

Let me tell you why

2009-03-06T08:10:00.000-08:00

This week, we closed the KAT Clothing retail store. The retail store only. The Web site is alive and kickin'.

As I've been telling people, I'm continually met with that face that seems to say, "Oh crap, the economy is eating you alive, too?"

Honestly, though, it's more of a strategic decision than an economic one. Would we have closed the retail store if we were bringing in $50K a month? Well, no. But, when I started this little venture that seems to be part vacation, part hell, my goal was specific: To have a successful online store that met the underserved clothing needs of tall chicks.

While the retail store was great for raising awareness and learning, it became clear that it wasn't advancing our primary goal. And, since we're funded by the Bank of Me and it didn't appear I'd be receiving a bail-out any time soon, we made the business decision to direct our resources to the Web site.

So, if you're in the Kansas City area and didn't get to come by the store, I hope you'll visit us online. Also, we're having trunk shows throughout the year across the Midwest. Stay tuned for more information about our first one on May 2. I look forward to huggin' it out with you then.

Allerjeez!

2008-12-27T12:18:00.000-08:00

The holidays are the hardest time of the year to have food allergies. Everywhere I look, there are food traps.

I'm technically allergic to about 12 foods. The biggies are wheat, corn, soy and dairy. When I eat these foods, my body basically says, "screw you" and gives me two days of severe swelling (second trimester-style), fatigue and moodiness.

Does that mean I don't cheat? Honestly, no. After two years of this, I've learned what my body can't and really can't do.

Enter the holidays though, and miraculously, my threshold for pain increases. My mother-in-law makes sugar cookies that I affectionately call "crack cocaine." They make my gut so darn miserable but does that stop me from eating five? Nope.

It's pathetic. I know. But to quote John (Cougar) Mellencamp, it hurts so good! I dream all year of these processed-sugar monsters. But after five minutes of yum, it's always two days of Tums.

Does anyone have a Christmas cookie recipe -- that tastes good -- sans the wheat, corn, soy or dairy? If so, please send it to me. Today. In fact, why don't you overnight it.

adDress

2008-12-19T13:08:00.000-08:00

I've never been a dress girl. Ever since Leslie O. announced in my 7th grade English class that I looked terrible in dresses, I've been hesitant to wear em'. As a tall chick who could never find pants, you'd think dresses would be a staple. But, in the back of my mind, there was always Leslie's voice.

Recently, though, my eyes were opened to the wonderful world that is dresses. This was in part to finally finding a pair of boots that would zip over my monster calves. (Thanks, Dad. I wanted your legs. Really.) And, a self-talk of, "Self, Leslie's probably in prison, a guest on 'Jerry Springer Live' or lives in a trailer down by the river. It's time to move on!"

Now, I can't wait to wear dresses. I'm obsessed with finding the perfect pair of tights to wear with my wide-calf boots. There's a lot of treadmill miles logged on those wide-calves so I refuse to feel bad about them. And, I'm enjoying it when people say, "I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress."

It feels good to move on ... 20 years later.

Greatest Hits, Volume 1

2008-11-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

I'm often asked by the two people who read this blog (thanks mom and dad), which are the most popular entries.

That got me thinking: I need a greatest hits list. I know, don't you have to have a hit to have a greatest hit? But, as calculated by me, these entries have generated the greatest response.

1. For the love of Geese. Hands down, the blog I get the most feedback on. If you're a stay-at-home or working mom, you can probably relate.

2. Super! Perfect for after Thanksgiving, this entry details my thought process after learning my hubby weighs less than me.

3. When Glam Girls Camp. If you're a girly-girl, you'll cringe. This blog recaps our family hiking trip to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back.

4. Bravo, Tim Gunn. You might think I'm a stalker after reading this letter to Tim Gunn where I ask, okay, beg him to be my friend.

5. Financial Summit. I wrote this last entry to vent but I've been surprised to see it's actually helped some.

Enjoy these entries recapping the last two years. And, thanks for letting me share my take.

From the mind of a small biz owner

2008-11-23T14:13:00.001-08:00

As the leaders of the big three automakers descended on Washington last week to beg for government -- rather, taxpayer -- funds, one thought kept surfacing: What about me?

It's selfish. I know. But, what about me? The small business owner who doesn't have an executive dining room but reinvests nearly every dime she makes back into her business.

The auto execs flew to Washington on private jets. Is this the part where I'm supposed to feel sorry for them? Where I'm supposed to dig deep in my pockets so they don't have to fly home coach?

This is not easy stuff. I know that. Thousands of retired autoworkers who gave their lives to these companies now rely on them for pensions and health insurance. And, all of sudden, they're at-risk.

But, when does it stop? First, it was Fannie and Freddie. Now, it's cars. If I, or any other US small business goes out, will the government bust out its white cape and save us? Or, will it be up to us to navigate the downside of capitalism and entrepreneurship?

I think I know the answer. And, the auto companies should be held to the same standard.

Why should I believe you?

2008-10-25T21:48:00.000-07:00

I was a huge fan of Tim Russert. I watched politicians on all sides of the aisle sweat under the hot lights of his show. He was thorough. Did his research and I perceived him as fair.

After his death, I was really impressed with the poise his son, Luke, showed. Clearly he's intelligent, mature and well-spoken.

But, is he qualified to be a political commentator for MSNBC? I saw him on the cable outlet this week discussing which states the presidential candidates were likely to win. Does he really know the answer or did some MSNBC staffer feed him the data?

I know this happens in newsrooms across the country. Journalists can't be expected to know everything. But, what makes me bristle is the fact he's being painted as an expert. Luke just graduated from college in May with a degree in history and communications. Is he really qualified to speak with authority on the presidential election?

I'm not slamming Luke for being young. I wish him success. And, if he aspires, I hope he reaches the level his dad did. But, his lack of experience raises a good question: In an era of bloggers and a 24-hour news cycle, at what point do we take a critical eye to the experience of those reporting "news?"

Duh, Dyson

2008-10-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Dyson:
This may shock you but it's not 1952. And men, they vacuum too!

So, why, in your ad I saw last night while getting my "Friends" fix, does it only show women vacuuming? And, here's another shocker: Most women (people) don't vacuum in heels.

For a company that touts the latest in vacuum technology, it seems you have an antiquated view.

Gotta run. The boss is calling. Time to get his coffee and pick up the dry cleaning.

You're so lame, you probably think this song is about you.

2008-10-14T15:21:00.000-07:00

A special thanks to Carly Simon for that song and to Ryan for reminding me that it's a "sequins dress" not a "sequence dress." (See Revelations)

I'm so lame.

(Regardless of how you spell it, I still want the dress. And, I will wear it to Home Depot.)

The Undecided Network

2008-10-09T15:31:00.001-07:00

For the five Americans left who have yet to make up their minds about the presidential election, I have a proposal.

Let's create a special cable channel called The Undecided Network. At TUN, these five folks can listen to as much rhetoric and watch as many political ads as they can stomach.

And, the rest of us can get on with our lives.

Revelations

2008-10-09T15:26:00.000-07:00

Last night's Tina Turner concert revealed one thing to me: I need a sequence dress. Not want. Need.

I already have the high heels and red lipstick. I just need the dress.

Where would I wear it? Church. Jiffy Lube. The library. Home Depot. Everywhere.

I need a sequence dress.

Ice, Ice, Baby

2008-09-27T10:52:00.000-07:00

This is a few days old but it's still driving me nuts.

On Thursday's "Grey's Anatomy" season premier, a major part of the storyline was the weather.

Three women and three men were in separate car accidents due to icy roads.

Sandra Oh's character, Cristina, slipped on a patch of ice and was impaled by an icicle.

The writers knew the season premier was in September, right? My quick check to weather.com showed it was 67 degrees in Seattle on Friday.

Was it strange to anyone else to have ice play such a major part in a September premier?

I'm sure the writers could have created something else to impale Sandra Oh. Meredith's incessant babble about moving in with McDreamy would have made me stab myself.

Live from New York

2008-09-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

I just returned from the spring market in NYC. It was a blast. Totally exhausting. But, it's always fun to see what's next in fashion.

The influence of the 1960s and 70s could definitely be felt. And, one phrase could sum up the styles for spring 2009: opposite ends of the spectrum. Bold colors and prints were used. But, so were neutrals. Short, dresses with straight silhouettes were dominant. But, so were long dresses skimming the floor.

From a tall chick perspective, if you have great legs, the short dress is for you. They typically hit above the knee so it's your chance to show off your killer calves. (Or, in my case, kankles.) As always, the challenge will be finding the short dress in an appropriate length.

The long "maxi" dress is another story. They make me pause. There's a lot of risk associated with something that looks so comfortable and easy. My advice here: use discretion. They're supposed to hit at the ankle on "normal" women so the risk for tall chicks is they'll hit at the dreaded mid-calf. Also, these dresses look best on women who are really thin. So, if you're like me and could stand to lose a few, this may not be the trend for you.

Goodbye, Wave

2008-09-20T11:53:00.000-07:00

What happened to the wave?

I'm not talking about the hello or goodbye wave. Or, the stadium wave.

I'm talking about the wave. The one you give on the road when another driver lets you in.

When did it become okay to not show your appreciation to fellow motorists?

I always give the wave. In fact, I probably over wave.

We should bring back the wave.

Human Nature

2008-09-13T12:05:00.000-07:00

As I listened to the news reports predicting the destructive path of hurricane Ike, I kept asking myself, why won't those people leave? City officials say it's a grim situation. Why won't they leave?

Fast forward to last night. It's 6 p.m. and the tornado sirens are blaring in Kansas City. What are my hubby and I doing? Deciding where to go for dinner. Yes, as in, the tornado sirens are screaming, all you can find on TV are meterologists telling you to take cover, and we're about to drive somewhere to eat. Genius!

Is it fair to be frustrated with the people of Galveston when I was about to embark on my own last supper of sorts? How can I slight them for disregarding government warnings when I was deliberately ignoring the siren designed to protect me?

Even my mom refuses to go to the basement when the tornado sirens sound. And, it's not like her basement is a dungeon. It's finished with a huge flat screen TV and DVD player. Insetad, she insists on remaining on the top floor of her home, near glass and windows, doing what she wants to do.

We used to live in the burbs. And, I swear, nothing started a block party faster than tornado sirens. It went something like this: Severe storm. Greenish sky. Tornado siren. Neighbors outside looking at the sky. Neighbors outside looking at the sky with beers in their hands.

Are we really that different than those who choose to wait out Katrina, Ike or the next big storm?

Divested

2008-08-30T09:58:00.000-07:00

Can you hear that? It's the sound of me kicking and screaming.

Vests. They're back for fall. And, I wish this trend would die. Like knickers.

(I don't know who made knickers mainstream in the 80s but they need a good thump in the head. Can you hear that brainstorm? "I have an idea. Let's provide women with corduroy bottoms that make their hips look bigger. Brilliant!")

But I digress.

I wore vests in the 80s. I even made one in my 7th grade sewing class. My mom saved it but I won't be busting it out for fall.

I don't like wearing menswear. Ever. My aversion stems from being forced to wear it when I was younger because there were no other options for tall chicks. And, I know vests have been updated to fit women but they were still designed for men.

This is me crossing my arms. No vests for me.

I Disagree.

2008-08-28T19:28:00.000-07:00

Jimmy Carter should be ashamed of himself.

In an interview with USA Today, the former president said that John McCain is "milking every possible drop of advantage" from his time in a Vietnamese prison.

Seriously?

John McCain spent 5.5 years as a POW. It's my understanding that he can no longer lift his arms above his head because of the torture methods he was subjected to while in captivity.

Regardless of your party affiliation, don't you think someone who spent more than 5 years in captivity for his country has earned the right to talk about the experience whenever he pleases?

You're better than that, Jimmy Carter.

Finally!

2008-08-19T10:12:00.000-07:00

The other night while watching the Olympics, rowing came on. I started to change the channel before deciding I should support a lesser-viewed sport.

I'm so glad I didn't turn the channel. I finally saw what I've been waiting for the entire Olympics.

After winning gold (yah-hoo!), the American rowers were presented with their medals. When the national anthem played, they started to sing along.

Finally.

I didn't see Michael Phelps, in all his awesome-ness, utter one line of the national anthem in seven or eight chances. These chicks got one moment of glory and they were totally rockin' it out.

Go rowers. You have a new fan.

Yowser!

2008-08-13T15:47:00.000-07:00

Can we talk about Michael Phelps' swim trunks?

I'm not talking about the full-body Speedo that's supposed to make him faster. I'm talking about when he just wears the bottoms.

Those bottoms are looooowwww. As in, one wrong move and he'll be swimming with an extra fin, kind of low....

Go USA!

2008-08-08T13:58:00.000-07:00

I love the Olympics. I mean I looooovvveee the Olympics. I once reviewed the list of Olympic sports just to see if I could compete in something. Anything. Sadly, my fencing skills aren't what they used to be. And, being 6'2, the gymnastics leotard was a little short in the crotch.

Every time I hear the Olympic theme song I get tears in my eyes. I've actually considered putting it on my iPod. The games represent such grit, determination and sacrifice. Can you imagine training every day of your life for four years just for one chance to compete?

I'm a sucker for those Bob Costas feature stories where they show the obstacles the athlete has overcome for just one chance to win. I have to fan myself to tone down the tears.

I attended the Olympics in Atlanta and remember it as an incredibly fun time. People from every corner of the world were milling about in Centennial Park. We were all friends and neighbors at that point. It was a refreshing change from today's seemingly hostile international scene.

My hubby doesn't care for the Olympics. Sigh. He has to be a Communist. How can you not want to watch Carl Lewis or Flo Jo? How can you not well up when Kerri Strug lands on one foot to seal the gold? If anything, how can you not want to watch those sand volleyball players in their tiny uniforms?

To all the Olympic athletes: You make America proud. God bless you.

Teribl Txtr

2008-07-25T07:08:00.000-07:00

We're announcing a program for katclothing.com clients where they can sign up to receive information about sales, new items, etc., via text.

This is laughable to me because I am a terrible texter. I mean, teribl txtr. I don't excel at this techno art for a few reasons.

First, I have two-ton thumbs. Seriously, my thumbs are enormous. They don't make the numbers on a phone or crackberry big enough for these whoppers. I wear a size 14 shoe. What's the likelihood of me having dainty hands?

Next, I'm s-l-o-w. I have friends who can text all of "War and Peace" before I can get through, "c u soon."

Finally, and I know this is nerdy, but the whole text vernacular and lingo doesn't jive with me. It's okay to spell words wrong. Punctuation is an after-thought. And, sentences don't require a subject and a verb.

If we find a misspelling on katclothing.com, it literally haunts me for days. The thought of doing it intentionally makes me bristle. And, I happen to like punctuation!!!!!!

I was a little resistant to IM when it was introduced and now I love it. So, I expect my attitude about texting will change, too. Just know if you send me a text, it make take a while to get a response from Two-Ton.

Xhausted with XM Again

2008-07-16T16:38:00.001-07:00

I've expressed my disdain for XM Radio in a previous blog so I won't bore you with the drama again.

Bottom-line: After months of trying to get the darn service to work, we finally terminated our dysfunctional relationship with XM. XM and Kat broke up. For good. For ever.

Today, I was greeted by a promotional email in my in-box from XM. Hooray! It was like that long-lost boyfriend you never want to hear from.

I promptly went to the bottom of the screen so I could opt-out of future love notes of the sort. To my surprise, there was no way to opt out, but there was this special message:

"Please note that you may receive service email in accordance with your XM Satellite Radio Customer Agreement, whether or not you elect to receive promotional email."

What? So even if I've indicated I never, ever want to hear from you again, (and I have) they're still going to email me?

Dear XM: Your homework tonight is to research the meaning of the word SPAM. And, I don't mean the canned meat.

I wish you could see the face I'm making at the computer right now.

A Sucker for Seersucker

2008-07-07T07:33:00.000-07:00

Seersucker is one of those great summer fabrics that keeps you cool while looking great. And, while I love wearing seersucker, it also reminds me of one of my most embarrassing moments.

Two years ago, my niece Grace was baptized. And, as her godmother, (I know, fancy title!) I was asked to stand at the front of the church as the priest did his thing. Knowing I would be "on stage" of sorts, I decided a new outfit was justified.

Grace was baptized in May so it seemed the perfect time to buy a seersucker suit. I found a pink and white one that I paired with white heels. On the morning of the baptism, I put on my fancy new outfit and prepared to strut. This was going to be one stylish baptism.

This is the part of the story where my brother, Grace's dad, starts yelling. Some might say I was a little bit late to the ceremony. Let's just say that I walked in as the priest was walking down the aisle to start the mass...and I was supposed to be walking with him. My bro was not happy with me. (Did he not see my seersucker suit?)

Anyhow, the mass goes on without a hitch. We join my family for a reception afterward and then head home. Since I'd only worn the suit a few hours, I decided to hang it up and wear it the next day to work. As I'm changing my clothes, I realize it's a bit drafty in my pants. Imagine my horror when I realized I'd split my pants at some point during the ceremony.

Split my pants. And, I'm not talking by an inch. Let's just say I had the full smile. I SO owe the person behind me in church an apology. They're probably still paying that therapy bill.

Sigh. Hair flip. I know, not everyone can be as cool as me.

Dream Jobs

2008-06-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

Do you have a dream job? I have a list. Don't get me wrong, running katclothing.com and working in the fashion industry rocks. But, it's fun to dream. If life were different, here's what I'd do:

--NASCAR driver. One look at my driving record and you'd believe it. I enjoy going fast. Also, the movie "Talladega Nights" is one of my faves. That dinner scene is hilarious.
--Lancome make-up lady. Honesty time: I don't want to give other people makeovers, I just want the free samples.
--Photographer for Sports Illustrated. I love sports. All of them. Sans golf. I want to be on the sidelines capturing the cover shot.
--Professional swimmer. It's the one sport I wish I'd never quit. For cryin' out loud, I'm 6'2. One stroke and I'm halfway across the pool. Plus, I could eat a lot.
--Talk show host. You mean you'll pay me to talk? Done.
--Chef. I don't like to cook but I heart "Iron Chef America." I want to be a chef just so I can be on that show. And, so I can chop vegetables really fast.

Fess up, friends. What's your dream job?

When Glam Girls Camp

2008-06-16T09:21:00.001-07:00

I subscribe to the "pamper not camper" school of thought. A night under the stars with crickets? Gag. Four star hotel with spa? I'm in! But, a recent family hiking trip to the bottom of the Grand Canyon stole the girliness right out of me and made me a full-fledged park ranger sans the moss green outfit.

My sister and sister-in-law, two other self-professed girlie-girls, were also on the trip. During the course of our three-day, 105-degree excursion we found ourselves doing things we'd never do at home, such as:

--Tolerating it when the guide says, "Nice jugs!" and he's not referring to the water bottles around your waist.
--Using my brother's Pert Plus shampoo. (I honestly think If my hair could talk, it would have freaked out.)
--Using soap from a public dispenser on our faces. (I'm sure it's anti-aging.)
--Wearing so much sunscreen we looked like recent graduates of clown college.
--Engaging in public urination and the practice of "drip dry."
--Carrying my dad's dirty "drawers." (Don't ask. The therapist said it's best if I don't talk about it.)
--Saying, "Cool! A rattlesnake!" (I still can't believe I said that.)
--Eating summer sausage and liking it.
--Pouring creek water over our heads. (No germs there!)

Since returning home, I've had to continuously remind myself that it's not okay to wear dirty socks. And, I still find myself thinking, "That would be a good bush for...."

Super!

2008-06-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

Today I received some super news. And, I mean super!

My husband revealed that he now weighs less than me. Isn't that super!?

That little bombshell prompted the following internal monologue:

"I must be preggers...or, I bet it's that new weight routine. Yes, yes, it must be all muscle. And, I'm really big boned....Or, I need to take my shoes off when I weigh. Yes, and my jeans. And, all my jewelry and my socks....Why did I eat five cookies last night? @$%&!"

The ol' self-esteem took a little hit after I learned my feet were bigger than his. But, after a few sessions of talking to myself in the mirror saying, "I'm good enough. I'm strong enough and gosh darn it, people like me," I was able to move on.

But now here I sit shoving almonds in my mouth jealous of the fact that he spends 30 minutes on an elliptical machine, eats an entire medium pizza and abracadabra, he's 20 pounds lighter. While, Saint Me works out 6-7 days a week, eats right and still doesn't have to carry a spare tire in my trunk because there's one around my waist.

Super!

Do the Dew

2008-06-04T05:14:00.000-07:00

As I ordered my third Diet Coke at lunch with a friend this week, I had to listen to the dreaded lecture on the evils of diet soda.

Eye roll. Sigh. Can't I drink my beloved carbonated goodness in peace?

I workout. I don't smoke. I've never done drugs and I rarely drink. (The uncontrollable crying is apparently a turnoff.)

So, I don't care if soda makes you crave sweets. I don't care if it breaks down my bone density. But, I do care if Sonic has Route 44s at half price during happy hour!

Did somebody say diet cherry limeade?

Saynora, Kankles!

2008-05-26T11:30:00.001-07:00

I don't like to cook. But, I love the Food network. I could spend my Saturdays watching "Iron Chef America." (Can they really chop that fast? It's like NASCAR when they change the tires. Why can't they change my oil that fast?)

One of my fave Food network shows is, "Throwdown with Bobby Flay." On this culinary barn burner, Flay challenges chefs across the country to making their signature dishes.

The point of this blog? I'm issuing a fashion throwdown. The subject? Capri pants.

Here's the challenge: Join me in having a capri-free summer. Fashion gurus say there's not one body style these "pants" flatter. Not one. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

So, why do we have them in our closets? Regardless of our height, they hit us mid-calf and make our legs look wider.

I don't know about you but the last thing my "kankles" need is another 20 pounds. So, I've donated my capris to charity. Instead, I'm wearing skirts and dresses, which are just as easy to throw on, keep me just as cool AND don't accentuate my kankles.

Remember, just because it's in style, doesn't mean we wear it. So join me in saying goodbye to your capri pants and hello to longer, leaner lines. Your kankles will thank you for it.

My Business Partner

2008-05-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

The best part about owning KATclothing.com is doing something I couldn't have done ten years ago: be in business with my mom.

Ten years ago I wouldn't have recognized the experience she brings to the table after a 35-year career. Ten years ago I wouldn't have wanted her opinion and I definitely wouldn't have acted on it. Ten years ago I knew better than she did.

Ten years later she's the first person I call. Ten years later she's making my dream come true. Ten years later she goes to Beijing for eight days and I'm lost. Ten years later I'm realizing what a tool I was ten years ago.

Happy Mother's Day, B. Here's to the next ten years.

WWJD

2008-05-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

Everybody needs a Jody.

She's the writer of www.katclothing.com and to sum it up, she rocks.

While lunching last week, she told me about a scholarship she started at her old high school. She pledged $1,000 to a senior English student selected by the administration. It turns out Jody received a similar scholarship when she was an English student there. And, without it, she wouldn't have gone to college.

Be a Jody.

Time for a New Message

2008-04-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

I recently attended a women's leadership conference featuring a former female elected official as the keynote speaker. I couldn't wait to be regaled with war stories from the campaign trail and intense policy negotiations.

Instead, she focused on the challenges of being a female in a male-dominated field.

Bor-ing. Stop me if you've heard that one before.

Wouldn't a better message be if we want men to stop singling us out for being women, we should stop singling out ourselves?

Can we agree to stop playing the gender card? As intelligent, confident women, we have other aces up our sleeves.

For the Love of Geese

2008-03-08T19:36:00.001-08:00

For the last two years I've dedicated most of my time to launching a business. I wanted to start a company for two reasons: First, being 6'2, the clothing options are pretty sparse. I believed I could do better. Second, I wanted Julie and Katie to be able to fulfill their dreams.

Julie is my sister-in-law. The mother of Grace, one of my nieces whom I adore. Only, when you ask Grace her name, she says, "Geese," because at age 2, she hasn't quite mastered the letter "r." Julie had a career for many years before becoming a stay-at-home mom. I sense Julie misses her professional self but doesn't want Grace in daycare. So, she's put her career goals on hold until Grace is a little older.

Katie is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We met at basketball practice when we were 14. She's an accountant, and I love her like a sister. Katie has two sweet, sweet kiddos. Each day, she gets them dressed, fed and to daycare before 8 a.m., so she can be at her desk on time. She gives the company nine good hours, picks up the kids, feeds them, bathes them, reads to them, only to do it all over again the next day. I'm exhausted just writing about it. I truly don't know how she does it with a smile on her face. And, she always has a smile.

I love and admire Julie and Katie but I don't want to be faced with their decision: Stay home and put the career goals on hold or continue working and find the best sitter. The truth is, I'm not sure if I'll have children. But if I do, I want the best of both worlds: the ability to decide where I spend my time that day, whether it's with my children or at the office. And, since the lottery isn't working out for me, there was only one way to make it possible: become my own boss.

A lot of entrepreneurs gauge their success on achieving financial goals. We're a little different at KAT. I'll know the company has made it when Katie is working from home to balance our books, and Julie is on staff and able to bring Grace to the office when she needs to. They'll both be fulfilling their dreams as involved moms, while applying their professional experience at a company dedicated to helping women feel good about themselves.

I can't think of a better example to set for my special Geese.

Bravo, Tim Gunn

2007-09-16T14:58:00.001-07:00

Dear Tim Gunn,
I really want to be your friend. Is that too forward? I watch your show on Bravo and can't help but think, I want to be his friend. I NEED to be Tim's friend.

Each week, you take a fashion lost soul under your wing and transform them into style divas. You connect them to life coaches, runway coaches and make-up artists. Last night at dinner, I practiced my runway walk through the restaurant just like you instructed in episode two. I swear, heads turned. You see, I'm listening! Isn't that an important quality in a friend?

I vowed to no longer take part in the "slobification of America," as you call it. No more going to the grocery store in gym clothes for me. No, sir! And, now that it's fall, I'm going through my closet and sorting things into four piles: keep, donate, mend and discard.

I'm working hard to get you to notice me, Tim.

Call me. Please.

On My Mind

2007-09-15T03:32:00.000-07:00

There are a few things I need to get off my chest.

First, if another celeb lectures me about limiting my carbon footprint, I'll scream. Since when did one week's training at "Inside the Actor's Studio" make you a scientist? Save the lecture. We all need to do our part. Let's start with Leo getting rid of his Hummer.

Second, an area shock jock about sent me over the edge the other day. During his drive-time program he announced any woman who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton in the "upcoming" election should be ashamed of herself. I hope you'll forgive me for voting based on the issues rather than the plumbing below the belt.

Third, corn. Does anyone else worry about eating this vegetable that can also be used to fuel our cars? So, I can put it in my car to make it go AND I can put it in my stomach? Hmm. No thanks.

Finally, file this under things I need to let go of. I think band class is sexist. Or, at least ten years ago (alright, 15 years), when I took it it was. I was excited to play the trumpet, the sax or the drums. What did I get stuck with? The flute. Who played the aforementioned? The boys. Well, you know how this story goes. Since I was given no good reason for not being able to play what I wanted, I rejected it. The result? An "F" in the class. How's that for maturity? (Now that I'm starting my own company, I prefer to think of it as entrepreneurial spirit.)

Thanks for listening.

I Lost My Appetite

2007-09-15T02:32:00.001-07:00

I live downtown. And, every urban dweller faces one uncomfortable truth: At some point, you will be asked by a homeless person for money. On the spot, you're forced to decide if you help someone get their next meal.

I recently faced a situation like this that left me steaming. While driving on a city street to dinner, I saw a man standing on a corner with a sign that read, "Hungry, please help." As a person who literally can't go two hours without eating, signs like these haunt me. I can't imagine going days without food.

But, it's what I saw next that made me lose my appetite.

The light turned green and the small pick-up truck in front of me pulled to the side of where the man was standing. The "hungry man" took his sign, threw it in the back of the truck and they sped away.

Here's an idea: If you're hungry, sell the truck. It's not even a buck to ride the bus.

But, he's not starving. Begging for money is his day job. And, while most Americans go to work to pay their bills, this man takes advantage of human decency.

There are millions of people in our country of abundance who work long hours (at legitimate jobs) and still struggle to put food on the table. And, this man was making a game of it. He's giving those who truly are in need a bad rap.

Confession time: When I see a person asking for money, I immediately start assessing. In our parking lot, a man once asked me for bus fare. Since he was wearing a gold necklace, I told him no.

This week, a woman standing on the corner not far from my house had a sign asking for money for food. Two reasons made me tell her no. First, from that corner, you can literally see the neighborhood soup kitchen. If you're really hungry, you don't need my money. You can walk up the hill and eat for free. Second, she had an eye patch. On a snap judgement I decided it was fake. While her clothes were disheveled, she wasn't filthy. And, the patch, it was stark white and new.

It embarrasses me to admit I make these snap decisions. But I also balance those thoughts with, what if that was your dad? Or, as a person of faith, what if that was Jesus? Well heck, then I'd give him my wallet and the keys to my car.

So, what's the solution? How do I help the working poor and not feel like I'm being scammed? I've considered offering granola bars. I've heard the idea of giving McDonald's gift certificates so they have to be used for food. After the pick-up truck incident, I decided to take a bag of groceries to the local food pantry once a month. I can have confidence I'm helping the working poor and not those just working the system. After all, the working poor don't have time to stand on the corner begging for money. Because, well, they're working.

Michael and LL: Own up

2007-07-26T10:39:00.000-07:00

Two things drive me crazy about Hollywood: Celebs who aren't accountable for their actions. And, stars who testify before Congress. (Really? We couldn't find anyone more credible then a guy who plays a doctor on TV? Let me guess, he stayed at a Holiday Inn last night, right?)

Today class, we're focusing on stars who have no sense of accountability.

Let's start with everyone's favorite friend, Michael Moore. (Or, "Michael S'more" as I like to call him.) Up front, let me say that I haven't seen "Sicko" and I have no plans to. But I take issue with a 400 lb. man complaining about our nation's health care system. Yo, Mike, you want better health care? Put the Cheetos down and pick the dumbbells up. I definitely don't support a national health care system where my tax dollars are used to compensate your bad eating habits. Better health care starts with the person you see in the mirror.

Next, Lindsey Lohan. She's 21, has two DUIs and is facing her second stint in rehab. Lindsey, at this pace, what will you have to look forward to in your 30s? After being pulled over Tuesday night for driving under the influence, police found a white powdery substance. I'm going to guess it wasn't anthrax. Soon after, LL sent a letter to a Hollywood reporter stating the cocaine wasn't hers and someone put it in her pocket.

Linz, (can I call you Linz?) here's the deal: I know Hollywood is a magical place but cocaine doesn't just magically appear in your possession. People (read: addicts) put it there. You only get one body and you're putting some nasty stuff in yours. Stop boozing. Stop stoning. Start loving yourself.

Finally, I'd like to spotlight a refreshing change from an unlikely source. I never thought I'd cite NY Gov. Elliot Spitzer as a good example of anything...but I'm doing it. His administration was called under fire for its questionable tactics to discredit a rival senator. It's yet to be determined the Gov's role in all this but I have to give him props for his initial response. He said he had no knowledge of the alleged events (we'll see -- he's rumored to be a micro manager), apologized and took responsibility for the actions of his staff.

Elliot, I think you're shady and it's doubtful we'll ever exchange Christmas cards but I give you props for at least publicly acknowledging your team did something wrong and taking responsibility for it.

Gayle and Oprah would be proud

2007-07-17T18:04:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a trip to Galena, IL. Not your typical Summer vacation hot spot but this was not your typical trip. Each year, all the chicks on my mom's side meet for a weekend of girl power.

Now, before you make some snide comment about the Oxygen network, consider the brain power in the room. There were two small business owners, a lobbyist, a nurse and educators. I assure, you there were no pillow fights.

Was there People magazine? Sure. (And, US and In Touch....) Was there wine? Lots. But more importantly, there was great, intelligent discussion. Last year's hot topic was No Child Left Behind. This year, it was Hillary Clinton. Not exactly your typical sewing circle, eh?

They have a fabulous winery in Galena where we sat for hours and talked. My mom shared what it was like to beat breast cancer. My cousin shared how hard being a new mom has been. My aunt talked about the impact she's making as a woman in her male-dominated field. And, me? I just soaked in the greatness and said a prayer of thanks for these positive influencers in my life.

Confessions

2007-07-11T04:52:00.000-07:00

I was raised Catholic so naturally, I have an abnormal amount of guilt. I was taught to attend Confession and get all those little white lies off my chest. But, I despised Confession as a child and only went once. (Strange though, I always made it to Communion where there was food and wine...)

But for some odd reason, I've never been able to shake my need to tell people when I've done something wrong. So, if you who thought today's blog was a review of Usher's album, "Confessions," you're in for a surprise. Mass is in session.

Here's a summary of my latest doozies:

Confession 1: I layout in the sun. I like it. I only use SPF 4. And, it's tanning oil. I side with my sister-in-law on this one who says, "tanned fat always looks better than white fat." Preach on, Julie.

Confession 2: Today, I didn't workout. And, I didn't have a reason. I just slept in. For those of you thinking, "get a grip," allow me to put this into perspective. Last night, I had TWO bowls of chips.

Confession 3: I have a new (bad) habit of telling people they're boring. The other day in a client meeting I blurted, "This is boring." This was met with some puzzled looks and then thankfully, laughter. Here's a tip: Telling your client they're boring is not a blueprint for success.

Confession 4: I read People magazine. And US Weekly. And OK! And In Touch. But, I don't read Star magazine or The Enquirer. Come on, even I have standards. Everyone knows those two magazines are just lies anyway.

Confession 5: I hate the show "Seinfeld." Here's the deal George and Elaine, if I want to hear someone whine, I'll listen to myself. While everyone else laughs at "no soup for you," I just stare at the TV and think, "those are really bad outfits."

Sigh. It feels great to get that off my chest. I think I'll bury a statue of a saint upside down in the backyard, say the Lord's prayer, a few Hail Mary's and call it good.

Financial Summit

2007-07-08T13:30:00.000-07:00

I'm the last person who should ever give financial advice. The LAST person. I often joke that my hubby is the CFO of our family and I'm the CSO: Chief Social Officer. (It was a unanimous decision by the board.)

But early in our marriage, the Mr. initiated quarterly Financial Summits. I've capitalized the phrase because it's a significant event in our house. A proper noun -- just like Christmas. But not.

It started as something I dreaded. Each quarter, we'd walk through our finances and pinpoint just where our money was going (JCrew) and where it wasn't (savings). I was forced to face the shameful stares. The frustration. The self-doubt: How could I have bought that extra pair of heels with the Summit approaching? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

But, amazingly, it's turned into something that I actually, gulp, like?

Since we've started the Financial Summits, the debt is nearly gone (aside from the house and that pesky 2% MBA loan) and we actually know how much money we need to retire.

At this point, those of you who know me are probably staring at your computer with a perplexed face. Allow me to reassure you, this is Kat's take. You're reading the right blog.

I know there's some wacky stats out there about the number of married couples who fight about money. I know that the number of Americans who save is less than 1%. In short, Americans' waists are getting fatter and our wallets are getting smaller.

The Financial Summit may not be the right way for you. But find a way. Don't owe the man. (And, if you do use the Financial Summit, let me know so I can trademark it. I've got a student loan to pay off!)

Smitten with Bitten?

2007-06-25T16:43:00.000-07:00

I checked out Sarah Jessica Parker's new clothing line, Bitten. All of the pieces are under $20. It's nice to see another star launch a line that's affordable to divas of all price ranges.

But, be forewarned. While I applaud the price points, the quality is lacking. It's just not feasible to produce clothes for under 20 bucks and expect them to be top quality. As a point of reference, when comparing the quality to H&M, Bitten bites.

That being said, the poor quality didn't stop me from buying a pair of seersucker hot shorts. (You: Seersucker? Me: They were $10. You: Hot shorts? Me: They were $10. You: With your legs? Me: Easy...) Can't you seem em' with a white skinny tank and red heels? Smokin'!

My take: Even if they just last one season, I got my money's worth.

Consumer Retorts

2007-06-24T15:47:00.001-07:00

My sad saga starts like this: The warranty on my iPod Nano expired after 12 months. On the 13th month, it crapped out on me. Sigh. Online troubleshooting didn't help (does this EVER work?) nor did tech support. I had to visit the nearest Apple store for a little one-on-one action.

I made a 1:40 appointment at the "Genius Bar," where Mac employees repair iPods and iBooks. I arrived, checked in and waited. And, waited. And, waited. After 25 minutes of playing, "Guess who wasn't in drama club," they called my name.

To my dismay, there was no acknowledgement OR apology for the tardy. Why make an appointment if Apple's not going to honor it? I can hardly stand waiting at the doctor's office. Do you think I'm going to stomach it at the Mac store?

I then learned since the Nano was no longer under warranty, it would cost $79 for them just to open it and determine why it wasn't working. Then, there would be a cost to fix the 13-month old iPod. Our "timely" Mac "genius" suggested trading in the old Nano and receiving a 10% discount toward a new one. WOW! You mean I could get 35 whole dollars off the price after just 13 short months?! How generous. Not.

I'm sour on Apple.

Don't fall flat

2007-06-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

At social events, the tall comments always come out. My favorite from a baby shower this weekend, "You're too tall. I don't want to stand next to you."

Sigh. I have so much work to do.

But the saddest comment? It was from a fellow glamazon.

"I never wear heels. I don't want to be any taller so I always wear flats."

Ugh. The dreaded flat. It's like nails on a chalkboard. That's like saying, "I'm looking for a shoe to make my calves look bigger."

Tall women around the globe have long debated the high heel. Do you wear them and risk looking taller in exchange for great legs? Or, do you pass on the flat to avoid adding inches?

Kat's take: Burn all the flats. (Unless you're a librarian.) Even those cute ballerina shoes that are in style. I mean, do you really think someone my height is going to be a ballerina? I didn't think so.

Where's the LUV?

2007-06-10T15:01:00.000-07:00

Can you save the emergency exit row seats when flying SWA?

I vote yes. Our flight attendant voted no.

Our packed flight didn't bode well for my "B" boarding pass but fortunately, my travel partner was an "A." Translation: a strong shot at getting the coveted emergency exit row seat.

I boarded the plane, took a deep breath of recycled air and smiled. There she was, a vision of loveliness, sitting in the emergency exit row with two seats saved. Cue the bright lights and harp music. My long legs would be spared the circus moves of my youth.

But, there was tension in the air.

"You can't save emergency exit row seats," said an SWA flight attendant, providing a loud verbal spanking to my friend. "That's rude."

Rude? What?! Since when?

I fly SWA enough to be a frequent flyer. And, I've been greeted by more than one 4'10 gymnast in this row saving a seat for a friend. This is America. We save seats everywhere we go. We save spots in line, too.

I get that these seats are a premium. Some airlines even charge more for you to sit there. But, if you're going to make these seats un-savable (is that a word?), you have to do it on ALL flights...not at the whim of the flight staff.

To all who serve: Thank you

2007-05-28T07:53:00.001-07:00

On Memorial Day, please take a moment to thank or pray for those who have fought for our freedom. I am thankful for these brave men and women AND their families. Can you imagine going a year without seeing your loved one while they served their country? I'd lose it.

If you live in Kansas City, check out the Liberty Memorial. I believe it's the nation's only WWI memorial (note to self: hire fact-checker) and each Memorial Day, they surround the drive with American flags.

If it doesn't put tears in your eyes, you must be a Russian.

Also, the Wall Street Journal had a great editorial in the May 26-27 edition. Titled, "Home of the Brave," it talked about the 40,000 members of the military who are not American citizens. It will make you think twice about the immigration debate.

To all who serve: From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Memo to Jimmy Carter: Zip it!

2007-05-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

I respect all that Jimmy Carter has done for this country but his recent comments about the Bush administration have me thinking one thing: Zip it!

There's an unspoken rule among former presidents: Don't comment on the performance of the current president.

For cryin' out loud, Jimmy, even Bill Clinton has managed to follow this unspoken rule. Bill, "blue dress" Clinton! Can't you play nice in the sandbox?

And, now, he's telling us his words were misinterpreted. What part of Bush’s administration being the “worst in history" does he think we misunderstood?

And, on another note, is anyone else DREADING the forced kiss we're going to be subjected to between Bill and Hillary? You know it's coming. He's out campaigning for her. NO ONE truly believes they're in love so they'll do that staged french kiss.

Remember Al and Tipper's tonsil swap? I think all of America immediately thought of their own parents "doing it."

In a word? GAG.

The other woman

2007-05-21T09:07:00.000-07:00

It happened again this weekend. Sigh. But this time the wound cut a little deeper because (insert dramatic theme music here) another woman said it. (Gasp!)

So, I'm lounging by the pool when one of my WOMAN neighbors made a comment about my size. I think it went something like, "Well, you're a bigger woman anyway..." In fact, I'm sure it went EXACTLY like that.

Why do I distinguish that she's a woman? Because in my experience, whether you're 6'2 like me or 5'2 like her, all chicks have image issues. I expect a man to use the "b" word (and then have me blog about him). I expect a woman to know that no lady ever wants to be thought of as big. (Unless she's Russian.)

I mean, would you ever say to one of your heavier friends, "Well, you're a fatter woman..." or "You're a balder man..." or "Your breath stinks and you look like a troll..."

NO! Because you read this blog and are educated on the importance of manners.

Tall chicks everywhere: My mission to educate the ill-informed continues.

Please and Thank You

2007-05-14T11:13:00.000-07:00

On a recent family vaca to the Florida gulf, I was pulled over for speeding. And, saying "speeding" is putting it lightly. The officer clocked me at 68 in a 45 and then at 68 in a 35. (Hee, hee, hee...insert nervous laughter here.)

The officer asked if I knew why he pulled me over. "No..." I responded hoping it was the tail light on our 2007 rental car. I then received the unfortunate news of how fast I was going. (Would you believe the accelerator was stuck?)

Public Service Announcement: Maybe it's because my grandfather was a police officer but I have little tolerance for people who are rude to cops. I was definitely irritated that I was pulled over but mad at myself -- not at the officer who was simply doing his job.

I responded to the rest of his questions with the manners my mama taught me and then waited...some country song played on the radio while he ran my plates, checked my record and I hoped, hoped, hoped I'd remember to pay that parking ticket from last year.

When the officer returned to my car, he gave me the good news. Since I was so nice and polite he was only ticketing me for going 45 in a 35. Sweet. That saved me $300 and a second trip to the gulf for a court appearance. All for saying please and thank you.

I received even better news today. Upon calling to pay my ticket via credit card (the other option was certified check. Really? Certified checks are a whole other bothersome blog), I learned the ticket was never turned in. And, if after 15 days the county hasn't received it, the ticket is removed.

Hold on, I need to go buy a lottery ticket.

Here's my take: First, I'm appreciative of the officer for slowing me down. Even by my NASCAR standards, 68 in a 35 is too dang fast. Second, I don't know if it's a stretch but I like to think my manners and kindness made it a little easier for this police officer to "forget" to submit my ticket.

Moral of the story? Let's be nice to each other.

Class dismissed.

A "Big" Woman Like You

2007-05-12T17:40:00.000-07:00

It happens to every tall chick and today was my day. Three different men felt the need to comment on my size. The first two were at the gym -- fine, I just made happy chat ("Yes, I played basketball..."), put my headphones on and went back to "sweatin' to the oldies." The last "gentleman" actually followed me through the grocery store. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But, then, no, I realized he was actually shopping for me. When we finally did talk (hooray), he wooed me with lines like, "I've been looking for a BIG woman your size." My self-esteem just soared. Public Service Announcement: At no time is it ever okay to call a woman "big." Ever.

Does it sound like I'm whining? I'm not. Being 6'2 this happens a lot and I typically don't mind it. I really enjoy people and meeting new friends. Sometimes though, humanity lets me down with chucklehead comments like, "Do you play rugby?"

Tall chicks everywhere: I'm looking out for you.