Da Dum Da Dum!

 

 via

 via

 via

via

Kiley Kate is gettin' hitched! My mind has been occupied with the logistics of what should go where and how, but it's nice to stop and savor the creative aspects of the wedding-planning process. Invitations for example. I had no idea what an obsession I had with colors, themes, and fonts. I'm designing some of our programs and such which has been a fun foray into the creative for me lately. Maybe I could share those a bit later?

We've also decided to get married in New Orleans! Rich colors, gas flare lanterns, and visions of Spanish moss-covered elm trees have been crossing my mind as of late.

This is kind of a funky way to come back to a long-ignored blog, but I thought it would help me organize my thoughts somehow? Catalog the fun part of the process rather than the multiple phone calls and contracts that go into booking venues and vendors and hotel blocks. It's also a time of transition as Anthony and I decide what to do next. Chicago has been our home for a little over five years, but we're enjoying entertaining the what-ifs lately...we'll see!

Jake Wood

Look at these two wild and crazy kids!

Battle Scars

I got back to my half-packed studio apartment around 1:00pm, 70 degrees, a beautiful fall day. My anxious Dad who can't sit still without drumming his fingers and yet spent two listless days in a hospital with me while I whined and felt like my stomach had been turned inside out, helped me out of his car and to the sidewalk. He carried heavy grocery bags and took small steps so that I could shuffle behind him. Bent over and running my fingers along the sides of the buildings as we passed just in case I decided I couldn't walk anymore. I was so excited to leave the hospital that I hadn't bothered to wait for a wheelchair and I'd ripped the irritating pain patch off hours ago. I was starting to feel the effects.

The previous week I had my gallbladder removed, my stomach reconstructed, and my nerves clipped so hopefully all my gastritis woes would be behind me. This following an extremely emotional time in the ER where I came to grips with the fact that I would be missing work and weeks of performances for All My Sons. Countless friends and family members were there to console me from over the phone, in person, and through some very beautiful floral arrangements. One particular special lady brought me magazines and sat by my side while I slept, mumbled and hyperventilated. Another special guy wrecked his back sleeping on my hospital room sofa so I wouldn't be alone and let me rest my tear-streaked snot-nosed face on his arm. A very special Mom helped me practice walking and getting to the restroom when I was too physically weak to sit up and too emotionally spent to do anything but cry. I'd never felt so lucky to have these people in my life while simultaneously being completely miserable about events completely out of my control.

On the warm fall day I got out of the hospital I sat down on my courtyard apartment's lobby radiator while Dad carried the groceries up the stairs. Anthony came just in time to ease me into bed and prop pillows under my feet and tell me that the pain wouldn't be forever. I cried for maybe the 1,000th time in ten days and he stroked my hand while I fell asleep.

I woke up around dusk to eat some chicken noodle soup and curl up on the couch like a rickety old cat. I watched History Detectives with Dad, who confided in me that it's exactly how he pictured us spending my recovery time together. It was a rock n' roll episode tracing Bob Dylan's guitar and a collage made by Frank Zappa. The collage struck me. An artist more commonly known for his musical experimentation producing such a wild piece of artwork that expressed his musical thoughts on paper before sitting down to write the music itself. I asked myself: "What have I created lately?" I fell still at the thought of unfinished projects, once desired creative goals and this blog.

Armed with new battle scars I'm ready to run back into the trenches of my creative outlets. To do what I set out to do when I moved to Chicago and get my writing back on track. Nothing can stop me now, not even my own internal organs. 

Sunday

Memorial Day weekend and it has yet to feel like summer is right around the corner. That may have something to do will the demoralizing cold and wet April, but you know how it goes: April Showers bring May Flowers. But just so you're aware, May Flowers don't bring pilgrims. Mayflowers do, and that happened in November. So explain that to me, fool. 

Nonsensical rhymes aside, I'm really excited for the upcoming summer. E will be coming to Chicago for my birthday weekend (Treat Yo' Self 2013) and in July it'll be off to Missouri for my grandparent's 60th wedding anniversary. And, of course, there's always Chicago in the summer to look forward to. I swear that seeing this city in the summer almost makes the winters worth it...almost.

Hope you're having a great Sunday!


-K.K.

Memorial Weekend

Dressing on a theme? You know I can't resist it. Someone re-pinned my Memorial Weekend outfit post from last year and it reminded me of my neglected blog and subsequent neglected Polyvore. Seeing as my brain decided to be awake at 5:30am this morning (what the heck brain?) I thought I'd put my time to good use and paint my nails while creating a set. Could I have maybe cleaned my room, done laundry, or taken out the trash? Sure. But I'm thinking silver glitter nail polish is going to do more for my morale this weekend than a clean apartment. AmIright?

As per usual I create three dream-scenarios and one outfit that's probably closest to the truth. Seeing as I'll be building sets on Monday I think you can guess what I'll be wearing...

Have a great Memorial Weekend!

Sunday

When I moved in to my studio apartment I had a couple conflicting feelings about it. The first was utter shock; I had just started a new job and my world had been turned upside down. The second was this giggly weird freedom that made me feel like a little girl playing house rather than an adult paying her own rent. It was confusing, and I find that it still is some nights when I come home to read blogs or watch a movie by myself in MY Chicago apartment.

After moving in I stocked my little half-a-fridge and bought an off-brand, sub-par jar of salsa. I tried opening it and the lid wouldn't budge. I dug my trusty jar opener out of a moving box but the lid stayed put. I ran it under hot water, submerged it in my sink upside down, tried hitting the edge of the lid against my half-a-stove and even went at it with a can opener. For the past seven months I would peer in to the fridge, see that jar of salsa taunting me and give it the old college try. It's become this running joke with Mom: should I lure a guy under false pretenses back to my apartment just so he can open the jar of salsa for me? Or maybe it's my King Arthur moment, he who opens the salsa get the...sword?

The silly thing is I will go to the grocery store and looking at the salsa aisle only strengthens my resolve to march  back to my apartment and open my own salsa. Recently the old fashioned way didn't work as per usual and I tried to get through the top with a wine corker almost cutting my fingers and breaking the corkscrew. "Am I really going to wait for someone to come along and open this damn jar of salsa?" I thought munching on unflavored taco chips.

This Cinco de Mayo I went grocery shopping with a firm purpose. I picked out my favorite jar (no off brands) plunked that baby in the cart and hoped for the best. Low and behold upon my triumphant return to the apartment the jar clicked open like a magical symphony of angels and was consumed with a considerable amount of swagger.


And that is the story that made me want to blog just a lil' bit.

I hope you're having a lovely Sunday!


-K.K.

Sunday

The Anatomy of a Chicago St. Paddy's Day Hangover:


A coffee run is the obvious first step and you feel like you're making the right choice by getting it iced despite the frigid temperatures. At least the ice cubes are hydrating. A line of college basketball players waiting for steak and cheese bagels makes you wonder if you'll catch the El on time, which you do. You start to wonder if people have noticed your green jeans that were so obviously for last night's festivities, but then realize that Sunday is actual St. Patrick's Day. Score.


Sip carefully on the iced coffee and wait to get home to devour the muffin in your purse that you're saving for when the time is right and your exact specifications have been met. The neighbors pomeranians silently but happily greet you at the front gate  furthering your longing for a dog but your pounding head confirms that it's a responsibility you can't handle. Grateful that the other neighbors are making something with rosemary in it today as opposed to curry as you lug your sad cramped up legs up three flights.


A twenty minute boiling hot shower/teeth brushing combination makes you feel at least half way human but now you can't bring yourself to get out of the shower. The comfiest of sweats are carefully chosen. One minute of getting situated on the couch with Chicago Fire playing on your laptop and a bite of the patiently awaited muffin confirms that you're not going anywhere. A quick facebook scan and a text from a friend confirms that people do still go out drinking on actual St. Patrick's Day but obviously not like Chicagoans do on Saturdays.

Monday

What did I say just a gosh darn week ago? Blog content is so hard to create when you're surrounded by gray slush and dropping temperatures. Luckily a few things have been ruling my world lately that have been pushing me full steam ahead. Those things are (in no particular order):

The arrival of Ms. Whiskey-Pants to Chicago on Saturday for RB's birthday. We are gonna tear. it. up.

Travel plans to see Ms. E in Atlanta and a potential road trip up to Nashville for the Color Run. Better dust off my running shoes.

Photo Via

Lastly but not least-ly, Starbucks oatmeal. I was already under the impression that steel cut oats were just good for your soul, but I will plan my day around making it to the Starbucks on Michigan and Adams just to get a bowl of this chunky deliciousness. I realize, I have a problem.

What's getting you through your winter week? (9 weeks until Spring!)

Hurry Up and Wait

The blogosphere is rife with New Year's resolutions. Mostly, I think, because blog content is hard to create when you're three sheets to the wind on holiday spirit and trying to settle back in to your normal gloomy winter routine. Not only is it harder to get creative, but people need to invent something to look forward to to get them through winter: "I will lose weight!" So I can look good in a bikini that I will wear to the beach with my friends this summer...oh! Leftover Christmas cookies! But there is one particular thing that I find myself doing often and wish I could break the habit. A new year and a fresh start is as good a time as any to tackle it...

I've been accused of wishing my life away, and I am the first person to back those accusations. I am a total ace at wishing I was in some other part of my life. Before I moved to Chicago I remember thinking that once I was settled in I'll feel a wholeness. Like I was making my own life. My career would take off and I would be the adult I always dreamed of in elementary school.


I want to feel about my life now the way I feel looking back on high school: you don't want to go back, but the reflection lets you see how far you've come. That you are more the person that you are supposed to be. I want to recall with some strange fondness how crazy my life was. I moved to Chicago with a little bit of money, lived in a studio apartment, worked a couple of jobs (mostly in theatres at night), and had an amazing time. But now, I feel more like myself. Like the person I always knew I should be.


Let me reiterate: I'm not one to make resolutions in January since for the past two years I've had the __ Before __ list to contend with. But this year I just wanted to take the time to remind myself, even if it's only for this moment, to slow down. Stop wishing it was some other time or place and just enjoy what I have right now. Some day I might find myself wishing deeply for that wild time I spent independent in Chicago.

Z-Pak Holiday

Back in November I had a debilitating  phlegm-y nasty cough for the majority of the month. I kept convincing myself that it would get better on its own and I couldn't possibly break from my busy schedule just to see a doctor. Then a new hire, on his third week of training said: "You know you've been sick since I met you."

I tore myself away from my Saturday of coffee drinking/leaf watching/rain avoidance to go to my local Minute Clinic. Lifesavers those RNs. Ten minutes later and I was out the door with bronchitis and four different medications to get me through the rest of the week.


I got home, took the medications and despite their lack of codeine fell instantly asleep on the couch only to wake up and hour later and discover that the cough medicine had "disagreed with me". As I was hugging the porcelain throne, I lay there uncomfortably warm against the cool tile waiting for someone to come in and ask if I was okay. But Roommate was out and the Captain can't move, so I crawled back out to the living room and nestled myself back on the futon. All at once I just wanted my mom.


24 years old, independently moved out to Chicago to pursue my own goals, have the ability to pay rent all by myself and yet, I still need my mom. Running Buddy and I laughed about it: college degrees, full time jobs, almost to our thirties, and I still want my mom to check up on me and bring me ginger ale. Of course when I'm sick isn't the only time I need my mom. Other times include when I want to see that new musical/romantic/Brad Pitt movie and no one will go with me, when I can't figure out how to switch a magazine subscription, and when my new healthcare plan just doesn't make any sense...

That's why I'm pumped to be seeing her on Sunday!

Chicago Day - the Field Museum

On Monday Running Buddy (or RB for all intensive purposes) drove down to have lunch and use my new work benefit: free admission to the majority of all Chicago museums! We decided on the Field, Chicago's natural history museum and I instantly fell in love.

We started off our perfect Chicago day with cinnamon rolls at Ann Sather's, home of Chicago's best cinnamon roll, and they aren't fooling around. Gluten intolerance be danged, I ate both of the cinnamon rolls my eggs and hash browns came with. Only mild queasiness followed.

Then we hopped on the red line and made our way towards museum campus. I had actually been here once before for a job interview when I first moved here, so it was refreshing to come back in a better state of mind, and with all the beautiful Christmas decorations up. I flashed my I.D. badge (like a boss) and we were in.

The first thing you do when you walk in is meet Sue, the world's most complete T-Rex.

We went through ancient Egypt (mummies!), animals, the hall of birds, and Ancient Americans which was one of my favorites.

More dinosaurs! Middle school field trip Kiley was beyond excited.

"Kenneth Parcell" shrank us and lead us on a journey under the soil (animatronic bugs = terrifying) 

Everyone in the museum ends the day on the front step taking pictures of the skyline...I almost wish I had turned the camera around. There was a distinctive row of people all snapping away. RB and I finished the night with a slice of pizza and then I returned to the theatre for a tech rehearsal. All in all it was the quintessential Chicago day.

Also, if you ever feel like going to the Field, call me up my answer (work permitting) will always be yes! 

Sunday

I bet you don't know what today is! And the reason I'm a betting woman is because I didn't even realize it myself until last night...

One year ago today I started blogging! I spent November unpacking my belongings in my very first Chicago apartment, all the while hemming and hawing about a blog title (which really is the hardest part of staring a blog) then I eventually settled on Kiley Kate, it being my name and all.

I'm not one for speeches, but thank you to those of you who have supported me by reading Kiley Kate and admitting openly to me that you do read it and enjoy it. It means a lot to me as a writer working to find my voice and direction while I'm living and learning in Chicago.


I don't know about you, but I'm going to celebrate with a baked good of some sort, and I hope you'll do the same, at least in spirit you know. I'd love to share a cupcake with you all!

Have a lovely Sunday!

-K.K.

T-Day Turban

Thanksgiving was themed "turbans and caftans" this year. Despite my extreme admiration for Golden Girls I didn't have a caftan laying around the house, so one scarf and two seconds made a nice head wrap that did a decent job of looking turban-esque and keeping my hair out of my eyes. I actually really enjoyed wearing it, in a 1940s Hollywood starlet kind of way, but with a little more kitsch.


Would you try wearing a turban? Next step: one of these bad boys:

The Grand Tour

Sine moving in last Monday I haven't had a ton of time in between work and theatre to find a place for everything. Bear with me here, it's not exactly Apartment Therapy Tour-ready!

 

When you walk in to my apartment this is your first view: my bed. Roommate, or should I say Prior Roommate has since installed my red curtains and helped me hang up my little round mirror. It was a little strange at first sleeping in the entry way. It's kind of like staying in a hotel actually.

 Obviously I have a long way to go, but at least I carved out a sleeping space!

 You walk down a little hallway, on the left hand side is the bathroom which had absolutely no storage outside of a small cabinet over the sink. The baby-duck-yellow tiles seem to be clashing with my deep purple shower curtain, but for now it'll do its job. On the right side of the hall is my walk in closet that I haven't been able to take a picture of yet...it is a hot mess. 

The hallway takes you to the breakfast nook where my futon and TV are currently stashed, it's a cozy little nook, and I'll most likely get a tension rod and curtain to block it off when guests come to stay so they have their own little place. As you can see the plant-babies are making themselves at home.

 

My kitchen is also a sad state of affairs as there is about a foot of counter space divided in half by an XL sink. and my microwave is still sitting on boxes...

 

Part of the struggle with studio living combined with quirky Chicago apartment architecture is that there isn't always a lot of storage. This kitchen has extra tall cabinets, but no drawers. The silverware is currently living on the futon until a microwave stand with drawers can make its way in to my apartment.

Despite its peculiarity, from the very beginning it's felt like my own, which I've never had before in an apartment. It's a point of pride that I'm doing it all on my own in Chicago...until the rent is due anyway. I'm more excited than ever to make this apartment my home.

Error!

 

Don't think I've abandoned ship on this blog! My laptop decided to go swan diving from the living room table and is in need of a new hard drive that I'll be getting on Saturday. But I've learned a few things from this laptop-less week (teehee, laptop-less)

1. Redbox is king

2. Books are cool

3. Friends are fantastic

4. UPS customer service really sucks.

In the mean time Mama will be coming to visit this weekend and I'll be gearing up for the big move to my little studio this Monday. Hope everyone is enjoying their crisp October!

Apt.

This Monday I became an official big girl. I sat through new hire orientation and an employee health care meeting and only laughed at the sexual harassment video once (I'm sorry, but those things are just so darn contrived). After that I hopped on the el, set foot on a new red line stop and signed my first solo lease. No co-signers, no roommates, just me and my little studio in Chicago!


I wish I had taken some pictures of it, but it opens up in to a bedroom with a hallway leading to a kitchen and breakfast nook and a giant walk-in closet. I can't wait to move in at the end of October and make it my own!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Modern Art

I wanted to share with you one of my favorite works of art at the Art Institute of Chicago. I happened upon it once and it made me smile. As it should, it's a pile of brightly wrapped candy stuck in the corner of the stark modern wing of the museum. When I shared my discovery someone told me that you're supposed to take a piece of candy with you, so I had to go back...

I was so moved by the motivation that it's my favorite piece in the modern wing. I don't always take the candy, but it's funny to watch others stare at it, wondering if they should take a piece themselves. 

Gallery secret: if you look at the ceiling, events both national and personal are printed along the wall pertaining to the artist's life. "A Peaceful Death" is printed right above the candy. Beautiful.