I Smell Bacon!

Dear B-Reader,



This week I've been starring in the leading role of my very own game of Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Cue the music from Footloose, Maestro.



1st degree: Monday, 1:00 PM, Chipotle on Kirby Drive in Rice Village.

I promised Jeff that I would not miss lunch anymore, regardless of how much attention my work demanded of me. So, just before showing nine properties to my Aggie client, I popped into Chipotle for a quick bite to eat and to make good on my word. As I handed my debit card to the cashier, I made eye contact with the man behind the register and realized that I knew him. But from where? I could feel the synapses of my neurons trying to make connections from one to another, placing this face with a time or location or person. Of course, I have no problem saying what's on my mind to someone, so I blurted out, "I know you from somewhere. Did you grow up in this area - go to Westbury High? etc." After a startled look from the young man, and then a quick grin, he answered, "I went to Westbury Baptist Church as a youth." Ah, the final electronic surge leaped from one neuron to another and the connection was made. He is Jason, who dated my sister when they were in middle school. We chatted a bit, and he carried my tray to the table for me. What a gentleman.



2nd degree: Tuesday, 1:30 PM, 4522 W. Alabama in Afton Oaks.

I held an open house during the middle of the week, which is not atypical in real estate. Although most open houses are on Sunday to be convenient for buyers, some open houses are on Tuesdays for the convenience of realtors. Realtors visit other listings to do a preview for current clients or to gain a better understanding of the market. Sometimes a buyer or two will drop-in to a mid-week open house, if you're lucky. At this open house, a woman walked in and introduced herself as "Kathleen." This time the neurons were already primed from the previous day's meeting, and they immediately placed her as my sister's friend who is also a realtor. Viola! The mind is such a wondrous organ. Kathleen and I had a nice chat about my sister's new home (which you may follow on the Pasche Project blog below, if you need more reading, B-Reader) and about the current real estate market in Houston. Such easy networking!



3rd degree: Friday, 12:00 Noon, Doctor's Office in Texas Medical Center.

B-Reader, sometimes going to the doctor's can be the pits. Not for me, though. I am so lucky to have two great doctors who take excellent care of me and employ the most supportive staff in the world's largest medical center. Today was no exception to my luck in medical settings. As I was sitting at the doctor's office, a lovely older woman sat down in the chair beside me. I was absorbed in my latest read on my Nook, Elizabeth George's Missing Joseph. The lady asked me about what I was reading, and we began exchanging authors and titles, of course, they were all about murder and mystery. We quickly moved onto our favorite television shows, and wouldn't you know it?--she loves the same programs that I love! Glee, Royal Pains, Burn Notice, and of course, The Closer. You should have witnessed the power of this woman's mind as she recalled actor's names, the breadth of their work, and even program times and channels. This woman's synapses are in pristine shape! We continued chatting about this and that, then realized that she lives in my old stomping grounds. We discussed Westbury High School, which led to a discussion about Jeff, which led to talking about the clinic where he practices. And then she told me, B-Reader, that she is a client of Westbury Animal Hospital. She brought her first dog to Dr. Johnston many years ago when Dr. J was a small pup himself (her words). As the nurse called my name, I handed my new friend, Beverly, my card, and she asked if she could look up Jeff the next time she is at the clinic with now puppy number five. "Of course!" I exclaimed, and gave her my card. As I closed my business card case, I couldn't help but wonder, "Is this my Ghost of Christmas in July Future? I wouldn't mind."



My mother always told me to be on my best behavior whenever I was out and about because "you never know who you might run into" (and she would continue with "who knows your mother.). I like Mr. Walt Disney's take on this concept: "It's a small world after all."





* Walt Disney in front of original model of It's a Small World ride.

Weekend at Mashleys

Dear B-Reader,

Whew! What a whirlwind of a weekend and start to the week! It's been great but hectic.

Saturday evening at the Mashley residence (Matt, my brother, and Ashley, his wife and my sister-in-law) was hilarious as is usual whenever my family gets together. Let me just make a public health announcement: if you are at all suffering from the summertime blues, then you must check out the YouTube video "Double Rainbow" and "AutoTune News Double Rainbow." I promise you will be crying tears of joy and smearing your mascara just like I did.

Back to the Mashleys, well, really, the glue of the Mashleys, who is Ashley. Ashley is never one to sit back and do nothing. Saturday was no different. After playing hostess to our immediate family and our out-of-town Kelly Waltons extended family, she began prepping for her next hostessing gig. On Sunday afternoon, her home would become pregnant party central. That's right, a baby shower.

B-Reader, if you know anything about me, let it be this. I love babies and children when they are well-behaved, they let me spoil them without tattle-telling to Mommy, and they go home with their parents at the end of the day. I'm not Mommy material at this point in my life. However, I'd make a great Aunt Katherine, not Great Aunt Katherine. Anyways, my friends have all started to respond favorably to their biological clocks, whereas I have been able to hit snooze for a while longer. I don't keep up with baby trends and refuse to read the Parenting magazine at the dentist office. I am uninformed when it comes to babies...and Saturday was a reality check.

I wiped away the glaze of saltwater and makeup from my eyes, post "Double Rainbow" cleansing, and looked toward the kitchen where Ashley was hustling and bustling. She was surrounded by pink and ribbon and popcorn? I get pink, I get ribbon, but I don't get popcorn for a baby shower. She educated me that the latest baby shower theme is "Pop." Ouch! That sounds worse than ripping a day-old bandaid off of my unshaven legs. Hit snooze on the baby clock for another five years minimum.


* See, I am not joking.

* Cute hostess Ashley popping into her role as hostess. Our little Martha Stewart.

I Smelled a Corpse Today!

Dear B-Reader,

Have you ever smelled a corpse flower? No, not a corpse. No, not a flower. Yes, a corpse flower.

Jeff and I have sniffed Lois, the blooming corpse flower on view right now at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Her odor is slightly fishy, but not too terribly bad...for now. The scent is anticipated to be stronger when she is in full-bloom.

When might we expect her to be in full-bloom? Well, the resident anthropologist at HMNS has let us know that it could be anywhere between midnight tonight and 5:00 PM tomorrow. Every corpse flower is unique, and each one blooms at its own schedule. Lois might remain opened for several days if not a week.

She is an incredibly gorgeous specimen. Blonde-green outer color to her long petals which curl at the tips. Very dark, almost black color to the interior of her petals. She is tall, towering at six feet. She would give any super model a run for her money! Look out, Heidi Klum. Oh, and did I mention that she has accomplished national recognition at the tender age of six years-old?

B-Reader, I hope that you will make the pilgrimage to the Cockrell Butterfly Center at the Houston Museum of Natural Science to see this one-of-a-kind Amazon goddess with your own eyes. Due to the unpredictable nature of her coming into full-bloom, the Center will be opened around-the-clock to give everyone the opportunity to see Lois. Can't make it in person?--that's no excuse with the webcam generously provided by Rice University.

You grow, girl!

*To learn more about Lois and to watch her live via webcam,

click on the "Lois' blog" link at the bottom of my blog site.

* Lois the corpse flower blooming at the Houston Museum of Natural Science on Wednesday, July 21, 2010, at 5:00 PM.

Hello, Operator?

Dear B-Reader,



Off to a late start this morning due to technical difficulties. The good news is that my home AT&T U-Verse system is functioning properly once again. Jeff and I are on our third, yes third, modem since beginning U-Verse service one year ago. Incredible! One would think we use them as soccer balls or something...



While waiting for the repairperson to arrive, install, and test the system, I was able to do a little housekeeping using my iPhone's 3G service. It's a wonderful tool for quickly reading something on the internet, responding in short bits, and sometimes making a phone call.



"A what?" you ask me, B-Reader. A p-h-o-n-e c-a-l-l. I, too, have become so accustomed to typing texts or emails that I had to remind myself about the older system of actually talking to someone. I tried it out this morning, with great success. It took me less time to call my friend about tonight's get together than to text her about it. Plus, I was able to find out important information (about dessert, of course) that I probably would have missed had I texted instead of called.



Mulling over my conversation, it struck me that the use of the cell phone for its original purpose, the phone call, is quickly becoming an obsolete mode of communication. It just is not right!



Raise your hand if you don't remember the sound of your friend's voice (you know, the one who moved to a distant land called Austin)?



Raise your hand if you are tired of long trails of typed messages that just confuse the situation because you don't know whether the sender was joking or being serious with that last line of text?



Raise your hand if you are ready for a change.



Today begins my campaign, Call B4 Type. In short, my platform is about adding more to the conversation. By calling someone, you speak with that someone, hear their voice, let them hear yours, pick up on key intonations and pauses that are oh so necessary for humans to understand the true meaning of language. I'm not asking you, B-Reader, to never type again. What I am asking is that you pause for a moment and determine whether you could get your message across just as easily or more easily by calling instead of typing. Of course, after making that initial phone call, feel free to exchange follow-up conversations with texts or emails.



Please excuse me, my phone is ringing and I simply must answer it. Viva Call B4 Type!

Katherine Marple

Dear B-Reader,

The gale that blew through H-town this past weekend took with it my home's AT&T UVerse connection. No internet. No cable. No problem. Jeff dusted off our DVD collection, and we sat back last night to a feature presentation of one of our absolute favorites, Mario Puzo's The Godfather. Epic, tragic, and full of what I crave in a good plot -- murder.

Not your first impression of me, eh, B-Reader? Consider me the preppy version of Agatha Christie's Jane Marple. Whereas Jane knits, I compost; whereas Jane rides the trolley, I drive a VW beetle convertible; whereas Jane sips tea, I savor cappuccino. Now really, dear, don't you agree that there is nothing better than a good, old fashioned, vengeful murder in the summertime? Jane does.

Which brings me to my newest fixation -- the Nook by Barnes and Noble. Don't start putting words into my fingers, B-Reader. I'm not the picture of an avid reader. I leave that role to my sister, brother, well, the whole bloodline (I wonder if Mr. Dewey Decimal System is a distant relative?). In fact, I am the metaphorical black sheep of the family when it comes to being a book worm. No slithering around in dusty old books for this prep.

But, what I do love is a great gadget. Clean lines, simplicity, and multifunctional -- those are features that will engage me.

With the Nook, I'm able to read a bit of book A, with the built-in e-dictionary quickly highlight and define a bloody British word that's been driving me barmy, surf the internet, return to reading book A until the suspense is too much to handle, pre-order the next book in the series and save it to my library, read a bit of book B before determining to dive back into finish the murder scene of book A. I can do all of this before you can say Bob's your uncle! Blimey! Oh, and later in the day when my eyes are just too tired to read fine print without squinting and risking premature crows feet, I can increase the font size to extra-extra large! Brilliant!

Speaking of the Nook, I really should stop typing on the blog and get back to my read. Murders don't solve themselves, you know.

Cheerio!





* See the resemblance?

Gardening Woes

Dear B-Reader,

My beloved vegetable garden. Faithfully, I fertilized, weeded, and doted after every blossom and bloom. I was devoted.

One downpour came and went, taking my prized, grown-from-seed squash with it, leaving me nothing but a mushy glob of leaves. I did not give up.

Another continuous week of downpours came and went, giving the stem of my peppers a scoliosis-like curve. I did not give up.

A final week of intermittent downpours came, stayed, and did little more damage to the garden (the worst was already done), but it drowned me. I did give up.

Every morning, I stare at that tangled mess of tomato vines and blackberry stalks and think, "___." Yes, that's right, B-Reader, I think nothing. I've climbed down into the cave, reaching that critical point in depression where the patient is incapable of doing or feeling. My garden is neglected like the leftovers in my fridge. Left to fend off insects, weeds, birds all on its own.

This morning, through the humidity-glazed glass of my window, a beacon glared, making me blink to remove the flash. My sight refocused. With disbelief, I rubbed my eyes and looked again. My heart leaped (was that a feeling?). It was! It was! A bright red tomato!

Faith renewed, I journey into the garden later today. I think I will download Grandma Jackie's favorite hymn "In the Garden" as the theme to my revival.

* Tomato in my vegetable garden.

Sustainability Sucker

*Whole Foods' (and my) newest sustainable shopping bag.

Dear B-Reader,

As I was driving home from the office last night, pondering the ancient riddle of What's for Dinner, I decided to put the burden on Jeff. At the nearest stoplight, I quickly dialed his number, popped the question, got an answer in record time, exchanged "love you's," and hung up. Stomach churning, I diverted off of my usual route home and headed towards Whole Foods for the ingredients to our meal. Suddenly, I realized that I, once again, forgot to put the sustainable shopping bags into my car's trunk after my last shopping venture.

Begin inner turmoil:

Katherine: [shouting] "Dang it! I always forget!"

Katherine: [calmly] "No problemo, just use the bags that the sacker has at his ready, you know, the brown paper ones (B-Reader, remember, this is Whole Foods, the store that banned plastic bags)."

Katherine: "But I despise doing that. There is no reason to use a disposable bag that I am going to have to add to the recycling bin. I know it is made of recycled materials and can be recycled, but why do that? Why not use the same sturdy bag over and over again. Less waste is mo' betta. I guess I'll have to purchase a new sustainable shopping bag."

Katherine: [with disbelief] "Seriously?! Another one? Most girls your age collect designer handbags, not sustainable shopping bags. You have a real problem. I'm going to tell Jeff on you."

By the time my heated discussion was coming to a roaring boil, I had already raced through the grocery store, made my selections, transferred each item from my cart to the check-out conveyor belt. Realizing I chose the lane headed by Favorite Cashier, the guy whose wife is a major Madonna fan (say what you will, B-Reader, but that woman knows her business and knocks out classic verse like no other pop star), I knew what choice I had to make as he reached in slow-motion for the paper bag to sack the products.

"No, no, I need a new sustainable bag anyways, so please put away the paper, and use this one," said I as I watched my fingers reach for that little teaser of a tote that seductively dangles from the credit card machine.

Proudly, I put my newly-filled, newly-purchased sustainable shopping bag into the trunk of my car. Slamming the trunk closed slammed my brain into gear. I was a total sucker for sustainability! Whole Foods is a genius! They sold me convenience and conservation, and I bought right into it! Needing to resolve this unease, I rationalized that my new bag has a cute design that will be a nice addition to my current motley crew of sustainable shopping bags. I love it, the earth loves it, it's all good, debate over.

* Puccini and Mia Dolce in disbelief of my collection (13 shown here, more in hiding to protect my innocence).

Katherine's Shout Out

This blog goes out to all those who encouraged me to write. Love you.

Dear B-Reader (Blog Reader),

Today, Thursday, July 15, 2010, is the first day of my blogging life. I have lots to say, and I will try to not bore you, my B-Reader, too often. In fact, my goal will be to entertain you and sometimes to move you into a new way of thinking (although I will try to steer clear of my least favorite topic: Politics). You might be wondering why you should read my blog, and to that, I have no truly convincing response other than, "just because it's fun and interesting." Read on if you like...or don't if you don't like...