Kathryn Mayer • Writing Out Loud
I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
Have you aged out of the profile picture you use to identify yourself on social media? Come on, tell the truth. Is your Facebook picture you, or a version of you? Are you older/fatter/balder/thinner, maybe browner/grayer/blonder/wrinklier than your avatar? Or do you think you look the same as you did on that vacation um, many many moons ago? This pic here is a favorite, and I use it a lot, partly because
Last Christmas, I got invited to a popular people party. Like the really popular pretty people who are über cool, not in an annoying, I’m better than you snot-faced attitude, but in an, I wish I were more like them-can’t we just be friends sort of way. It may have been a mistake, but I didn’t care, I rsvp’d absofuckinglutely and showed up with bells on. Maybe not bells, but spanx. I wanted
How did it happen? Why is that what every wants to know? Easy enough, I suppose. But TMI? Iphone was in sweatshirt front pocket. I sit, pee, wipe, reach around and flush, stand, pull up pants, turn towards sink and – kerplop! Before my eyes found the bottom of the bowl, a swirl sucked up something, and that something was my cell phone. Or so I thought. I emailed the
Little known secret: I never ever cried on first days of pre-school when I had to peel my kid’s arms off my legs and leave them sobbing with tear-streaked faces, reaching for me desperately from the kind arms of their nursery school teacher. I never looked back. When the kindergarten bus arrived to scoop my kids up and take them away for a few short hours, I didn’t cry. I was thrilled for a
There are people in my house, making noise, and in every nook and cranny there are so many shoes, on the couches sleeping kids, cousins, and friends How I missed these shoes and their respective bodies. Here is Thanksgiving in pictures, for which I am very grateful. *NaBloPoMo National Blog Posting Month. Thanksgiving Day.
It started as a way to get out and get muddy, before sitting down with the grown-ups for Thanksgiving. A couple of families met at the town green usually populated with more geese than people, and a battle for the flag began. That was maybe 10-15 years ago, but we didn’t keep track, so not quite sure. How we do keep track is with how big the kids are getting
I’m going to the Women’s March on Washington, but I not to protest this election. I am not fighting to have the electoral college overturned. Surprised? I am not conflicted over the fact that HRC won the popular vote and lost the electoral college. I will not petition or rally or protest this fact. Trump won and is president-elect. My biggest fear was this exact thing would happen, except in reverse.
What brings you great comfort? A glass of wine by a roaring fire? A nestling puppy on your lap and a book in your hand? A warm bed on a cold morning? Comfort food to warm your soul and fill your belly? Sunrises? Sunsets? Just the beach? At a recent writing workshop, the prompt was: What brings you comfort? And this is my answer: * You won’t believe what I
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (aka Kathy and/or Kate) is a writer, humorist, and (former) activist writing out loud with humor and grace about little life moments with big ripples, including the space between parenting and aging parents, social issues, angsty reflections of midlife, and, sigh, gun humpers. Still. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes not Mayer is a national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her essays have been recognized as Voice of … Read More Here...
kate[at]kathrynmayer[dot]com
xo Kate