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As Brian and I sat in our home office yesterday afternoon with our oldest whining about something (probably about the TV) and our little one running around like a screaming banshee, my poor husband attempted to tell me the same sentence a few times—only to lose his concentration (or mine) in the throes of chaos. He finally blurted out, "We need a date night!" And he was sooooo right.

I really would love to be one of those people who comes home from a trip, unpacks my suitcase(s) the moment I step foot in the door, throws a load of laundry in the washer before I've even taken off my shoes, and then creates a scrapbook or photo album entitled "Summer Family Photo Album" before the memories have faded. If you know me or have read this blog for more than a week, you know good and well that just isn't me. Not even close. But this past summer was one of the best summers of my life. Maybe the best. Despite the screaming and tantrums, the sleepless nights, the potty training failures, and my miserable attempts at motherhood, I can look back through my thousands of photos from our summer and know that I am blessed far beyond what I expected. And certainly beyond what I have earned. This has been a summer full of grace...in so many ways. Let's start here:

I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you guys this, but I have struggled with mild, chronic depression for as long as I can remember. [Well, crap. That came out of left field. Isn’t this supposed to be a humor blog?] I’ve had lots of different diagnoses—from cyclothymia (mild bipolar disorder) to depression to “that […]

If you've ever seen the film(s) Paranormal Activity, the following post will probably run through your mind as you try to fall back asleep tomorrow at 3 a.m., and you'll say, "I hate you, Katy in a Corner, for reminding me of this! And, oh great. Now I'm thinking about Katy standing in the corner of my room, and I'm even MORE freaked out!" And I'll just laugh and laugh because I "saw" Paranormal Activity on my parents' TV with ten fingers in front of my face, without my glasses on, and singing "LALALALALALA" at the top of my lungs. And the only thing I could tell you about that film is that the painting that hangs on my parents' wall close to their TV is really beautiful. Why? Because I'm not an idiot, that's why. I don't watch scary movies because I don't want to be reminded of them every time I have to use the facilities at 4 a.m.

Alrighty, it's giveaway time. And confession time. Don't worry dad. It's just a goofy confession about my changing body that not even my closest friends know about me. Aaaaaaaaaaand we just lost my dad. [Please tell me she's not about to talk about women's troubles.] Don't worry, I'm not talking about women's troubles. I'm talking about my ears. [I guess it depends on the woman as to whether or not there's trouble in that department.] Seriously, cut it out. This is a friendly place. [Who is Katy always talking to in the brackets? I'm so confused by this blog sometimes.] So, my ears. They're just…different. For one, they just don't work as well as they used to, according to my husband. Whether or not that is a "selective" phenomenon is still up for debate.

"She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: 'Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.' Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." (Proverbs 31:26-30, ESV)

When the author of the second part of Proverbs 31 "penned" these words, I can only imagine he must have known a woman like this:

Remember a few weeks ago when I said I would never again take a road trip while our kids are toddlers? Remember that? Remember how I said I'd rather rip off my toenails with a crowbar?



Yeah. I lied. Actually, I didn't lie. I just forgot that we planned this Labor Day weekend trip to my in-laws' farm house in Indiana. So, last Thursday morning—around (ahem) noon—we piled in the car, set Blues Clues on constant loop, and made the 10-hour trek to the Hoosier State.

As many of you may have noticed from my social media pages, Brian and I jetted off to New York City Saturday morning and returned to Kansas on Sunday evening. The purpose of our trip was blog-related [update: read more about my experience with Google Glass here], but we did our best to soak up the city while we were there. And by "soak up" the city, I mean that I ended up sneezing black stuff for a solid 24 hours after we returned home. [Well, that was an unnecessary detail.] Seriously, New Yorkers, how do you deal with all that smog? It's so suffocating! Wait, I know how. It's the food. The glorious food! Mmmm...I could really go for some Bareburger right about now.



Enough about the food, though. That's not what stresses me out about traveling to New York. The purpose of this post is to tell you more about our hotel. Because I like to talk to fellow hotel snobs before I spend the equivalent of a mortgage payment on a hotel room. That's why.

There are three things I do far better than most women I know: 1) saving money, 2) homemade recipes, and 3) doing laundry. Wait, no. What I meant to say is that I do them worse. Worse than most women I know. Worse than all the women. Everywhere. And men. Also, most children over the age of 4. Shoot, there are probably a few species of primates that could argue their superiority in those three areas as well. But I'm probably better than most primates at arguing, so it would be a very long, cyclical debate. With lots of mud-slinging. I have absolutely no idea where I was going with this. Wait! Good thing I went ahead and wrote out the title of this post. See how smart that was? [Yes, I think what we've all learned so far is exactly how smart you are, Katy.]

I don't know if I ever told y'all this, but Katy in a Corner is actually my third blogging venture. [Wow. So, third time's a…Dirty Dancing parody? That is just sad.] My first blog (or what I called an online journal at the time) went live in 2003 and was entitled, "Postcards from Leeds." It chronicled my year abroad as an ambassadorial scholar for the Rotary Foundation. I was a serious professional back when I was 22.



You know what this photo says? "Look out, world. I've got French cuffs, and I know how to use them."