I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
This is my town where backyard finagling and barbecue lead to stacked teams while deserving athletes and families are left outside looking in. This is my town where police blotters are scoured for names of the afflicted, and sighs of relief echo when we escape another week unscathed. And this is my town where one terrible phone call alerts the gossip mill of a sick kid, a dead spouse, a tragic accident,
Last year my goal was to make $20,000 as a part-time, freelance copywriter. I made less than five. Disappointed but not broken, this year I vowed to wow the industry and return triumphant after the childrearing hiatus I survived. Nearly four months in, and I’ve billed $145.00. One hundred, forty-five. That’s billed, not received. Hmmmmm, apparently my return-to-work, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar work ethic has hit the economic tsunami, and while I pound
Yesterday, I was a lady who lunched. Three of us went; they had salad, I bit my tongue off, and the inside of my cheeks and my nails. We’re the only two friends this woman has anymore, and here’s why. Our lunchtime, um, discussion: Couldn’t vote for Obama because of his terrorist background. Our government is running a ponzi scheme just like Madoff. Reverend Al is a racist and hates white
In my town, if you start to look good, really good, it is assumed, rather accurately, you’re having an affair. Men or women, this is universal suburban slander for anyone over, oh, say 40. Forty is such an easy target. Too thin, too fit, good hair, nice clothes, shoes. Real shoes, instead of crocs, Uggs, or sneaks. Bingo. Marriage over, someone’s stepping out and so begins the gossip race to
With layoffs looming with every LinkedIn and Facebook request, I’m not sure whether I just know more people, or if I’m at “that age” where my demographic is the one quickly targeted for immediate, efficient cost-savings. Fired. Outsourced. Bought out. Early retirement. Downsized. Packages? Laid Off. Resourced. Eliminated. It’s easy to cut the old guys; we often make more money, don’t understand reality tv or Twitter, require more health benefits,
What a beautiful thing, to be glued to the tv, not in terror and tears, but in awe and aspiration. It’s a new day, and the list is long, but we have a new president and a new attitude and a new direction. There’s an energy in the air that’s almost palpable. Can you feel it? Get to work. Please. The for-sale signs line our neighborhood, friends are being re-deployed
I’ve been beating my brain to remember the names of colleagues and friends I worked so closely with nearly a decade ago. How I can remember where we kept the secret stash of copier toner to this day, but not my VP of marketing? Weird, that selective memory. We knew each other so well back then, how could I possibly forget? Day in and day out . . . nights too, and
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (also known by Kathy and Kate), is a writer, humorist, and activist writing out loud with humor and grace about the little moments of life with big ripples, including parenting, social issues, midlife, and, sigh, gun violence prevention. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes notMayer is national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her essays have been recognized as Voice of the Year from SheKnows/BlogHer, named Best … Read More Here...
kate[at]kathrynmayer[dot]com
xo Kate