6:45-8:30:  Commute is especially heinous due to a lane closure.  Creep… ever… so… slowly… past three tanned, smiling construction workers who appear to be joking with one other.   Briefly consider pulling over to the shoulder, kicking off my heels as I leap over the concrete barricade, and slapping on a hard hat.

8:30:  Arrive at work.  Le sigh.

8:31-8:40:  Start day with a cup of coffee and Facebook.   Hello, notifications!

8:40-8:45:  Officially all caught up on Facebook.  Time for second cup of coffee.

8:45-8:48:  Eat banana after carefully inspecting suspicious-looking bruised spot on it for several minutes.  Throw offending part in the trash.

8:48-10:00:  Surf the Interwebs while intermittently texting Katie.  Google “Three’s Company TV theme lyrics”.  Ahhh, so that’s what they’re singing.

10:00-10:02:  Third cup of coffee.  Starting to sweat profusely.

10:02-10:03:  Am asked to do actual work.  How rude is that?

10:03-10:20:  Do work.  Grudgingly.

10:20-10:22:  Man, is it lunchtime yet?  Start rummaging through my lunch bag.  Eat carrot sticks.  So not satisfying.

10:22-10:24:  Google “Maryland state song” out of curiosity.  Wow, there’s about 20 stanzas and I don’t understand any of it except “Maryland! My Maryland!”.  Come up with a pretty rockin’ tune for the lyrics.  If the real song isn’t close to my version, it should be.

10:24-10:25:  Check Facebook.  Comment on a few posts.  “Like” a few others.  Yadda, yadda.

10:25-10:26:  Am asked to “jazz up” a technical article about health care program management.

10:26-10:32:  Stare blankly at open Word document.  They can’t be serious.  There is literally no amount of sorcery or dark witchcraft I could conjure up that would make this topic any less boring.

10:32:10:  Start to typ—

10:32:12:  Lord a-mercy!  Bathroom break.  NOW.

10:38:  Return from bathroom.  Man, I really had to pee after three cups of coffee.  Kinda sneaks up on you all of a sudden, doesn’t it?

10:38-10:39:  Have awkward stand-off in lobby when office door doesn’t open while sour-faced receptionist watches.  You’re quite the jokester, defunct key fob.

10:39-10:40:  Google “how electronic key fobs work” out of curiosity.  Turns out I wasn’t really all that interested in knowing.

10:40-10:42:  Now is it lunchtime?  Again rummage through my lunch bag.  Break down and buy bag of pretzels out of the vending machine, which ends up breaking down to roughly 75 cents per pretzel.

10:42-10:43:  Pass by coffee machine and consider fourth cup, then decide against it.  Already have visible sweat rings around my armpits.  Best not to tempt fate.

10:43:  Notice that my right shoe squeaks audibly.  Get embarrassed and try to hobble awkwardly without squeaking back to my cubicle.  Mission: Failed.

10:43-10:47:  Overhear someone quietly say my name but can’t hear the context.  Wait, what are they saying?  Was it good?  Bad?  Ponder that obsessively for a while.

10:47:  Hear the rustlings of a candy wrapper opening.  Sounds like chocolate.  Wait, a Hershey’s Kiss, maybe?  Are there more where it came from?  And if so, where?  For the love o’ God, WHERE??

10:47-10:49:  Take a victory lap around the office out of sheer boredom and somehow end up back at bathroom.  Oops, someone’s in a stall.  Hang around uncomfortably while acting like I’m checking my makeup and then hightail it out of there as soon as an appropriate amount of time has passed.  I’m not a communal bathroom dweller.

10:49-10:50:  Check Facebook.  Then e-mail.  Then Facebook again.  Seriously, where is everyone??

10:50-11:00:  Break down and eat my lunch — but quietly, so that no one else can overhear, and hence judge, me.

11:00:  Decide to post about my morning on Domestiphobia.net.

Since Katie’s agreed to let me horn in on her labor of love here (which, I guess, is now our labor of love) and bask in the reflected glory of her hard work, I feel I should at least introduce myself and make everyone’s acquaintance before I start cranking out posts about how much I love garlic, hate ‘chick lit’, yadda, yadda.  ‘Cause my mama raised me right…

So, greetings, new friends!

My name’s Erin, I’m 28, a Scorpio (if you’re into that sort of thing) and, while I’d love to divulge all the juicy details of my incredibly fascinating career, I don’t really have one to speak of just yet.  For the most part, my “career path” has been more of a loose term to describe the random assortment of desk chairs I’ve warmed when I wasn’t pillaging unsupervised candy dishes and daydreaming about what I really want to be when I grow up.

In fact, I’m writing this at work right now.  Don’t narc on me, eh?

Here is my work phone.  It has many complicated buttons that frighten and confuse me.  This concludes the tour of my cubicle.

Granted, my status as a professional benchwarmer might be changing here soon, but we’ll save that for a later post…

Where was I?

Oh, right.

I live with my husband of two years, Elliot (or, as I lovingly call him, “Chuckles”), and two neurotic cats.

The hubs has a ridiculous number of hobbies, including being a private pilot, and travels a lot for work, so I have lots of free time to revel in all sorts of shameful single behavior — hello, four hour Millionaire Matchmaker marathon! — and dream up home improvement projects for him to do when he gets back.

Our military background – me growing up an Air Force brat and the hubs serving 10 years in the Army – has saddled us with a nasty case of location ADD.  Which might explain why, about two months ago, we traded in a three-year-old mortgage on a nice, cozy 3 BR/2 BA rancher in the Dirty South…

…for a 700 square-foot, one-bedroom apartment above a noisy bar in downtown Frederick, MD.

Bold?  Daring?  Entirely ill-conceived?

All of the above.  But that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?

I enjoy good food, good books, good wine (and even mediocre wine), writing, being outdoors, 1930s slang, snarky celebrity gossip, and many other things that I’m sure will reveal themselves in due time.

But, even more so, I love, love, love new experiences – whether it’s tasting unpronounce-able foreign cuisine, trying my hand at potentially disastrous DIY crafts, or traveling to new places (hmm, foreshadowing, mayhaps?).

And now I love you guys, too.  But be warned, I’m a jealous, vindictive lover when scorned.

So, if you’re a kindred soul who craves a little adventure in life, is willing to try new things and capable of laughing off failures (and sharing them with us so we can laugh at you, too), and can appreciate – or at least tolerate – cheesy movie and song references, we’re going to get along just swimmingly.

And that’s me in a nutshell.

Help!  I’m in a nutshell!  How did I get into this bloody great big nutshell?

Hello, Austin Powers?  Anyone?

Better buckle up, folks,  ’cause outdated pop culture cliches are what I’m all about.

…to try and please me.  I love you just the way you are.

oooOOOoooo ooh yeah.

Sing it.  You know you want to.

I’m guessing you might be noticing a couple changes around here.  The site title, for one.  As sad as it makes me, this site will no longer be called Domesticating Kate.  You will be automatically redirected to domestiphobia.net from now on.

Why?

Most people who know me – okay, all people who know me – who read the site have pointed out that my name is not Kate.  My name is, and always will be, plain Katie.  Also, this will no longer be just my site.  I’ve taken on a partner in crime because frankly, this is a lot of work.  I love it, but other parts of my life were getting neglected.  Finally, I feel like this name much more closely depicts a “truer” version of who I really am.

We’re still in the process of adjusting the “about” section and other categories of the site, so you’ll understand more of what I mean as we progress.  Oh, and the “big news” is still to come.  Just workin’ out the deets’.

Let it be known that sharing the site is not the same as quitting a project.  I’m simply readjusting to meet my needs.

Capiche?

Hopefully Erin will get a chance to introduce herself later today, and then we’ll get back to the fun stuff.  I have been going through a lot of photos lately, so don’t hang up.

Here are some random Hawaii surfboards to tide you over:

And here they are all vintage:

The plans for the new site (and a BIG announcement – NO I am NOT pregnant) are well underway, but in the meantime I wanted to share with you the dumbest picture I ever took.  (Thanks for your patience, by the way.  This website stuff isn’t exactly easy or quick, and I appreciate the patience of those of you who actually read my ramblings – it really means the world to me.)

I snapped it on my way home from a visit to Frederick, MD this weekend (more on that later).  I drove over this bridge – probably about 100ft. above the water – and couldn’t resist the beautiful sunset with the kayaker below.  So I crossed the bridge and pulled my car off to the side.  There was no shoulder, so I basically had to walk on this elevated piece of cement that held the bridge railing.  The railing was probably only a couple feet high.  I was wearing flip flops and had been in the car (hung-over) for 6 1/2 hours.

Not my brightest moment.

Meanwhile, cars are flying by, the occasional SUV brazen enough to honk.  Enough already, I know I’m an idiot.

The worst part is that the picture is not even good.  Not terrible, mind you, but not good.  The sunset had all but disappeared, and I was so nervous as I crouched at the railing, my bare toes hanging over the edge of the precipice as the cars zoomed past a couple feet behind my back, that holding the camera steady was not really an option.  And I didn’t even get to the center of the bridge.

So the lesson?  Don’t risk your life for a mediocre photo.  If you’re going to risk it, then walk to the middle of the bridge, take a deep breath, and get the shot you want.

And for God’s sake, don’t drop the camera!

Hey, all… I apologize for being a bit lax in my posts as of late.

Here’s why:

I will probably be partnering up with a good friend to make some changes to the direction of the site.  It will likely be a bit sassier… a bit edgier… but hopefully still entertaining and useful.

Because let’s face it – if you want wholesome, family goodness (and maybe some good stock tips), you’ll head on over to Martha’s site anyway.

If this sounds like it still might be up your alley, feel free to subscribe (see the bar at the right?) and you’ll know when the action is happening.

Thank you for reading!

~Kate

At work I’m writing an instructional packet for new contract employees so they can get their bearings when the arrive.  The hardest part about working for the government is… actually getting started working for the government.  So this guide is intended to provide step-by-step instructions to take new employees through the rigmarole of acquiring all the things they need (ID card, background check, email access, etc.) in order to actually become valid, useful contractors who are actually allowed to use a computer.

This little project of mine has been set aside for the past month or so, and when I looked at it again yesterday, I realized my approach was slightly… unconventional.

Case in-point:

So I think I might be calling new employees kleptomaniacs with an uncontrollable affinity for chocolate and peanut butter.  Oh, and apparently they’re also coffee addicts whom I’m encouraging to slack off on company time.

Here’s another:

Okay another coffee reference.  And now they’re clumsy, to boot.  I can explain this…

And again:

Uhhh…. Am I not-so-subtly suggesting – in a work document with my name on it, no less – that the acronym CAC sounds uncomfortably close to another “c” word?? (Hint:  rhymes with clock but then say it with a Boston accent.)

I can just hear the questioning now…

“So, were you actually intending to call our new employees junk food kleptos when you wrote this?”

and

“Accidents happen, but do you really think it’s wise to imply that all new employees are clumsy, over-caffeinated oafs who are bound to destroy any original documents we give them?”

and

“Do we really have to tell you that it’s inappropriate to allude – even subtly – to anatomical objects in a professional document?”

But I can explain all of this.  Really, I can.  See, in college the writing professors always tell you to “write what you know,” right?  Well:

• I have already divulged in my side-bar that I’m a sucker for all things chocolate, peanut butter, or a combination of the two.  Well put it an egg shape, and I’m helpless to resist.  Everything tastes better when it’s in the shape of an egg.
• Coffee?  I try not to like it.  I really do.  But I just can’t seem to stop the Starbuck’s spending spree.  And do I spill?  Only once or twice a month.
• And is it immature to think that CAC sounds like another word when you say it out loud?  Think about it:  “Insert your CAC into the keyboard.”  “Make sure you don’t leave your CAC sitting out on your desk.”  How could your mind not be in the gutter?

All-in-all, I’m pretty proud of the document.  I will justify my unorthodox writing by stating that we actually want new employees to read and understand what’s written there.  If it’s not at least slightly entertaining, they’ll never get through it.  Since this isn’t an “official” company document (a disclaimer that is prominently displayed at the beginning of the guide), this should be okay.

Right?

Right??

If you haven’t voted in my “Choose My Own Adventure” poll yet, it’s not too late. 

You can choose whether I should take a carpentry class… 

…or learn how to mountain climb… 

…among other things. 

Since I included an option where people could type in a unique adventure, I thought I’d share with you the options some people thought I should do: 

• “Write a book.”
  Okay, just give me a plot and I’ll work on that.
• “All of the above!”
  That is a distinct possibility.
• “Find Matt a girlfriend from afar.”
  Anyone interested?  Matt is one of the hubs’ best friends and really great guy.
• “Go mountain climbing in Colorado.”
  Tell you what.  If I take a mountain climbing course, I just may do this.  I have people there.
• “Learn to speak German, so when you move to Germany, you can be my fluent guide!”
  I would love to move to Germany, and I already know a little bit of the language!  Ich mochte kartoffelsalat, bitte.
• “Stripper pole class!  Do it for Justin!!!”
  Thanks for the suggestion, but I’m already living here for Justin.  Isn’t that enough?  Although, our anniversary is coming up…

So there you have it.  There are some good suggestions in there, but I get the feeling that some of you might have some selfish motives.  Let’s not forget that this is all about ME.  :) 

I’ll admit I’m a little disappointed only one person (so far) thinks I should move to Hawaii. 

See how happy it makes me?? 

 Now go vote!

Choose My Own Adventure