Tag Archives: Misc Confessions

Katie Confessions # 4

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written any confessions on here.  That’s partly because I haven’t had time to write anything and partly because I found out several parents of my students read this lil’ blog, and I don’t want to get fired.  Kidding.  Sort of.  Hi, parents:)

Since it’s been a while, I’ve been doing, saying, and thinking lots of confession-worthy things.  I’ll just share a few and separate them by categories. Continue reading

Katie Confessions “dog edition”

I am the butt of a lot of cat lady jokes.  Need proof?  I recently found this in my mailbox at school:

No, I did not put it on my car.

Another colleague led staff devotions and explained that she still had morning voice because unlike some of us, (looks straight at me) she doesn’t talk to a cat in the morning.  Dotty totally answers back, so I really don’t think it’s that weird.

Yes, I recently wrote a sample argumentative essay arguing that cats are better than dogs.  Sure, I probably post a few too many pictures of Dotty on Instagram.  And yeah, this happens more often than I’d like to admit:

Her favorite time to be pet is when I’m on the toilet.  Weird, I know.

But despite the growing evidence that I am one of those over the top, covered in cat hair, cat-loving cat ladies,  I actually really love dogs.  Like I get weirdly attached to them.  When I was 13 and found our golden retriever, Odie, dead in the kitchen when I was home alone, I screamed until neighbors on both sides and across the street came running over.  Talk about traumatizing.

When someone tells me that they don’t like dogs, I try to not judge them, but I totally do. How can anyone NOT like dogs?

So when nearly my entire family went to Hawaii for ten days, I had no problem house-sitting and watching their dogs: Nike, Nash, and Dunkin.

However, those 10 days were riddled with confessions.  It started when my brother brought his dog, Nash, over.

Instead of telling you the story, I’ll let you read the text Trent sent the family, but let me preface it by explaining that I was eating Thin Mints and drinking milk when Nash jumped on top of me.  The screaming was hardly unprovoked.

I know I don’t sound like much of a dog-lover in that text, but Nash had just completely ruined my dessert and I was covered in milk!  If you had just been clobbered by a giant dog while trapped under a blanket, you’d probably be pretty annoyed too.  Right?

Despite the rough start, I warmed up to Nash, especially when he got sleepy and became a snuggler at night.  Because yes, I let dogs sleep on the bed with me.  When I mentioned this in the teacher’s lounge, one of my colleagues was so disgusted that he looked like I had said that I eat dog ticks.  But I had grown up sharing my bed with Odie, then Swish, and even Gizmo who would climb under my mosquito net and hog the bed in Mozambique.  So this scene:

was totally normal for me.

Except having to fight for my pillow- now that was a little extreme:

Walking the three boys to the park was a bit of an adventure.

because moments after I took this picture, I dropped Dunkin’s leash, Nike swerved behind me, and chaos ensued.  I was too panicked to pay any attention to all the people in cars pointing and laughing.

When we got to the park, I took off their leashes and let them run free.  Nike, my parent’s lab, always stayed right by my side but my sister’s golden and my brother’s golden doodle had other ideas.  They found friends.  If you watch THIS VIDEO you’ll witness Nash’s impressive soccer skills.  You’ll also hear me breathing awkwardly loud, for which I apologize.

The three sometimes stayed right on my heels, though.  In fact, one of them clipped my heel and I nearly did a face plant but caught myself as I screamed and flailed.  When I looked back to reprimand the tripper, I discovered that the culprit was actually a pit bull who had joined our pack.  His owner was sprinting towards us to get his dog, surely laughing to himself about my scream and near fall.

If you follow me on Instagram, you know that people like me are the reason you should NEVER put your lips on a drinking fountain.

Sure it’s a little gross, but dogs get thirsty too, y’all.

When we got home, Dunkin tried to sniff Nash when he was relieving himself, so Dunkin ended up getting peed on.

He really didn’t seem to mind, though:

Then I nearly peed on Nash’s favorite toy because Trent and Teri failed to mention that he likes to put his ball in the toilet:

Yes, I did have to reach my hand in to retrieve it.

And Heidi forgot to warn me about Dunkin’s habit of snacking on underwear.

But despite some chewed undies, massive roaming hairballs in the kitchen, and some super muddy floors, there wasn’t too much damage done.  All the dogs survived and Dotty was only slightly pissed that I had left her for 10 days.

Now it’s time for your dog confessions.  Do you let them share the bed or does that thought disgust you?  Has your underwear ever been eaten by your dogs? Were you traumatized by “Where the Red Fern Grows” or “Old Yeller” like I was? Any and all dog confessions can be made here.

Oh, and since we’re on the topic, you must watch THIS VIDEO about the difference between cats and dogs.  My new friend, Claire, shared it with me and it is hilarious.

Katie Confessions #8-13 “Solvang Edition”

I think and say and do a lot of weird things.  I suspect you do too.  So as I share my confessions, I’d love if you would share a “me too” every once in awhile so I don’t feel like quite such a spaz.


Two weekends ago I went on a trip to Solvang with some colleagues/friends, and since what happens in Solvang doesn’t have to stay in Solvang, now I’ve got some confessions to make.

# 8 I forgot that I had already made other plans for the weekend.

Have you ever done this?  Double-booking yourself is the worst. I felt TERRIBLE for standing up my dear friend, Lori.  Surely other people have had to send texts like this:

Not only did I stand her up, I made her share a bed with a cat who likes to sleep on top of people and pee in their suitcases.  I am the worst.

# 9 I went wine-tasting.

If you know me in real life, you understand why this is a confession.  I don’t drink wine.  Actually, I kind of hate it.

And yet, this was my SECOND time wine-tasting.

The first time was five years ago when I was in Cape Town over Spring Break.  (Ew, don’t I sound so pretentious?  I just can’t figure out a non-snooty way to start this story.)

Judith and Lisa are friends I met in Mozambique who are two of the smartest people I know.  They also happen to be super goofy, so naturally I love them.  Lisa’s boyfriend came to visit her and the four of us when to South Africa for the week.  Neither Lisa nor I enjoy wine, but somehow our group ended up at a vineyard.  While we probably should have been acting a bit more sophisticated at a fancy vineyard, we chose to show our true colors and had a grand ol’ time “sniffing” wine and sneaking grapes off the vine:

Five years later and I found myself on yet another wine-tasting trip.  And I actually drank the wine this time.  I  went because I love Solvang and the gang of women and because I didn’t have any other plans.  Oh wait.

Even though I still will choose an ice cold Coke over a fine glass of wine, I had a fabulous time wine-tasting.  I didn’t want to gag every time I tried a sip, so I suppose that is an improvement.  Plus, we got a tour of the vineyard and learned all about the wine-making process at the Firestone Winery.

That’s right, ladies, as in Andrew Firestone.  His family sold the winery right after his season of The Bachelor, but our tour guide knew Andrew and gave us the scoop on the show.  Apparently, the producers told him who to kiss and who to send home!  Are you as appalled by that news as I am?  I mean, sure, I always suspected it, but having it confirmed has really made me look at Sean’s season in a whole new way.  (Surely he’s being forced to keep Tierra, the drama queen.)

Saarloos and Sons was the next winery we went to, and it was awesome for a number of reasons.  First, Susan Saarloos is a friend from church and I want to be like her when I grow up. Her family owns the place and her son made us feel like VIPs.  And get this- instead of pairing wines with fruit and cheese, they use CUPCAKES!!! Pure genius.  Pure sugary, sweet genius!

Plus, they have this cool photo booth that takes fun pictures.

#10 I went in the hotel jacuzzi in a sports bra and undies.

In my defense, it was Erica’s idea.  And it was a brilliant one.  Luckily, no one joined us except one creepy middle-aged Asian woman who stood outside the pool smiling at us for an uncomfortable amount of time.

# 11 I imagined being murdered.

There are so many awful stories about runners being assaulted, so when I found myself on this path:

completely out of civilization and screaming distance, I couldn’t help but consider how easy it would be to kill me and hide my body. The upside to thinking about your impending death is that it forces you to run much faster.

# 12 I had this for breakfast:

Yes, that is a scoop of ice cream.  I want to hug whoever thought to serve ice cream with waffles.  And that’s saying a lot because I am NOT a hugger.

The next day’s breakfast consisted of Danish pancakes with cinnamon apples followed by a large chunk of peanut butter/chocolate fudge for the road and a cupcake in Santa Barbara.

I may require an intervention for my sugar problem.

# 13 I am this friend:

You know, the one who falls asleep on long car rides.  To quote Michelle Tanner, “How rude!”

Luckily, Becky is the type of friend who doesn’t begrudge us for sleeping while she drives.  Instead she took a picture of our drooling faces and put it on Instagram. Well-played.

The best part of these confessions is when you make them too.  For instance, in THIS POST my friend Tom made a super funny confession.  To fully appreciate it, you must understand that Tom is a posh Brit and therefore he calls the bathroom the “loo.”

So how ’bout it?  Do you ever double-book yourself or drink wine even though you hate it? Have you gone swimming in a public pool in your undies or thought about your own murder?  Do you have a slight sugar addiction or fall asleep in cars?  This is a judge-free zone, so any and all confessions are welcome and appreciated.


Eye Contact with Gorillas

I went to the zoo by myself one time when I was in college.  As part of my Life Science homework I had to observe the animals and my professor had warned, “Whatever you do, do NOT make eye contact with the gorilla.” I thought this was rather odd advice, so when I sat alone in the “gorilla-viewing area” and was suddenly face to face with the beast, I decided to test it out.  We held eye contact for about three seconds before I started to smirk.  I mean, come on, I was having a staring contest with a gorilla.  This was funny stuff.

Not to the gorilla. Continue reading

Summer Reading

Warning: this post reveals more of my inner nerd than I’ve ever shown on here before.  If, for some reason, you thought I was “cool”, that delusion is about to be blown to bits and pieces.  Prepare yourself.


I love so many things that summer brings, but I confess that what I’m REALLY looking forward to is time to read. Yes, I plan on watching Downtown Abby and Friday Night Lights so I can see what all the hype is about, but mainly I can’t wait to bury my nose in a book or two.  Or twelve or forty.  Books are kinda my thing.  Need proof? Continue reading


I turned 30 today.  

(Present from a clever friend)

People have been asking me if it’s freaking me out and I keep telling them, “No.  But when I turned 29, I cried because I was one year closer to 30.  So I guess I’ve had a year to prepare for this day and now that it’s here, it’s not that scary after all.” (But if I have puffy red eyes tomorrow, know that I had a small breakdown later tonight. Please don’t ask me about it.)

I freaked out when I turned 29 because 30 had always sounded ancient.  People in their 30’s sounded so responsible and boring and well, old.  Plus, I had always assumed that people in their 30’s had life pretty much figured out.  They had husbands and kids and houses and since I was nowhere near to having any of those things, I flipped out a tiny bit.

Somewhere during my 29th year, however, I realized that turning 30 doesn’t mean you have to turn into a responsible bore.  I’m friends with people in their 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s who are spritely and silly and wildly inappropriate at times.   They’ve shown me that getting older doesn’t mean life gets dull, nor does it mean you have to have life figured out.  Because it turns out that nobody EVER has life completely figured out.  Forrest was right.  Life really IS like a box of chocolates and you really DON’T ever know what you’re gonna get each year.

I’ve found there are only a few constants in life- God will always be good and farts will always be funny.  Almost cverything else is subject to change, and there really is no way of telling what each year or decade will bring.  Some months you’ll get the milk chocolate truffles or peanut butter filled goodness.  But other months you’ll bite right into that cherry-filled nasties.  Regardless, God is still good and farts are still funny.  Each year will inevitably hold surprises, some good and some disgusting, but that is what makes this journey with God so wonderful.  He already knows what surprises are coming our way and will use them for our good and our growth.

So once I let go of the idiotic notion that turning 30 meant I had to have my life sorted out, I relaxed and happily skipped out of my twenties and into the realm of… dun dun dun… adulthood.

Although today marks the official day of my “departure from early adulthood,” there have been signs of this day approaching for quite some time.  Perhaps you too have experienced a few of these.  Here are my 20 signs that I’m becoming an adult: Continue reading

911 Calls and My Jetta

I’ve called 9-1-1 twice in my life.  Both times involved my Jetta.  The first time was 5 years ago when I was babysitting infant Vander.  He was asleep when I heard a loud a crash outside my sister’s house.  When I went outside to investigate, I noticed two things.  1- my car that had been parked in front of the house was gone.  And 2- in place of my car there was an elderly Indian man sitting in a car with exploded airbags and flailing arms.

My first thought was, “This old man is on drugs!”

My second thought was, “Dude, where’s my car?”

I looked down the street and saw that my lil’ Jetta had been pushed three houses down.  Then I looked closer at the man and saw blood and foam coming out of his mouth.  And I panicked.

A couple happened to be walking by right at that moment.  It was five years ago and I can still hear the guy say, “Ohhhh shit.”

And with that, I sprang into action.  I remembered my CPR training and raised my hand to announce, “I’ll call 911!”  Luckily, I had memorized Heidi’s address that day because I had had paranoid daydreams about a robber breaking into the house during the night while I huddled with Vander in a closet, calling for help and panicking because I didn’t know my sister’s address.  “Ummm, we’re at a house in Fullerton.  It’s yellow and has a red door.  Come quick!” Continue reading

Taxes, Tapeworms, and Tebow

Does your personality ever go missing?

Mine does.

And I can’t write when it’s gone.  I tried to, but everything I wrote came out sounding phony or obnoxious and I was annoying even myself.  Hence the lack of posts recently.  Despite this “writing funk” I’ve been in, I’ve still been learning a lot lately and feel compelled to share some of these lessons with you.

Lessons I learned while my personality was on vacation:

I learned that you need to be extra careful when wearing wedges in slippery bleachers or you could slip and fall in front of parents and students and look like a total buffoon.  Hypothetically speaking.

I learned that if you try to order “gyros” at a Greek restaurant, you should know how to pronounce it or else people will think you’re a moron. Whoever invented silent letters deserves to be shot. Continue reading

Christmas Confessions

Every Christmas morning for the past 20 some odd years, I’ve called my friend Megan and we talk about our presents.  Our conversations used to be about  bikes, roller blades, American girl dolls, and the fact that my parents STILL wouldn’t get me a trampoline.  This was the first year we didn’t have our Christmas day chat and it’s because Megan died.

Just kidding.

Her family flew to Mexico on Christmas day.  Was that joke about her death a little too morbid?  I don’t think it was.  Especially since Megan often insists that if she does die young, I marry her husband.  I used to get uncomfortable when she would make these jokes, but now I tell her that I’m going to change her son’s name from Holt to Holten when I’m his mom.  See?  This is just the kind of friendship we have.

But since Megan was flying to Mexico on Christmas, we had our annual, “What’d you get for Christmas?” conversation on the twenty-third.  It wasn’t a long conversation- partly because we hadn’t gotten anything yet and partly because while talking to her, I was driving and missed my freeway exit and ended up ironically much closer to Mexico than I was supposed to be.

Megan is a devoted reader of this here blog and during our conversation, she scolded me for not updating it.  I told her I just hadn’t felt like writing and she replied, “Ok good.  That’s much better than your lame ‘I’m too busy’ excuse.”

She can say things like this to me because we’ve been friends since before we starting shaving our legs.  In fact, she was the friend who convinced me I needed to start shaving my legs.  Remind me to punch her for that.  And though I have indeed been busier than usual, my real reason for neglecting the blog is because I simply haven’t felt like writing.  I think they call it writer’s block.  But I’m not technically a “writer”, so maybe it’s just laziness.  But no matter the reason, now my fingers have the itch again so here we go.

This year’s Christmas Confessions in no particular order: Continue reading