About Fringe-Dwelling Woman
What can I say? I am a woman of a certain age. My name is Katherine Satterfield, but please call me Kathy.
I am a designer, a craft addict, sometime gardener with a gray thumb, writer, poet, sometime actress. My Daddy would have said I have a roofer’s card. It covers everything.
My progeny are a daughter and a son. Falon is a social worker in a school-based program. I so proud. Zach is trying to find himself. He’s a veritable genius and inherited his mother’s tendency to randomness. Poor kid got too many of my genes.
I like to build things. My tool chest is full to overflowing, but I’m still holding out for a band saw. And need to replace the compound miter saw. But, alas I have lost the job that paid the bills and afforded me the luxury of new tools and so I shall endeavor to become more savvy in my use of things I already own! Perhaps I can become better at re-using, re-purposing, and recycling.
We certainly try to do the latter on a daily basis. Not perfect at it, but giving it a good ol’ effort. The planet needs our efforts. And you can teach an old dog new tricks.
I am a pet parent to 4 dogs and a cat. The cat thinks she’s a dog. She’s pretty cool actually. Uses the doggie door for her wanderings around the yard. Her name is Ashe McTweed, but AsheKitty seems to have stuck. The girls are black labs. Molly is neurotic as all hell. Bunny is just downright amusing. The boys are Lucky, the Chihuahua and Peanut. Poor Lucky has a heart condition he inherited from his father, Chico (I still miss my Chic!), and a gimpy leg. We medicate the heart condition. Peanut was adopted from a Shelter in Jonesboro and found on Petfinder.com. We thought he was a Chi too, but darned if he doesn’t look like a Chi and Jack Russell mix-up. Does that make him a Chack? He’s quick, highly amusing, loves to hide his food under pillows and cushions, loves to bury himself under pillows and cushions. He’s kinda prissy too. Please adopt.
My political inclinations? Well to be perfectly honest I’m a flaming liberal on most accounts, believing that poverty and environment are the leading cause of most problems with our kids. And I seriously don’t understand why people vote against their own self-interest. Nor do I comprehend why any woman would vote Republican. They’re engaged in a war on women! ‘Nuff said. For now.
Anything else about me? I love to shop, hope to travel one day and take my blog on the road. Not into religion. Some of the most heinous crimes have been committed in the name of God or whatever you call IT. And I do have a hard time with the intolerance for others that most religions perpetuate. I refer to the IS or Infinite Spirit. The IS is the only known. It is what it IS. Please don’t hold this against me.
And I do love a good curse every now and then. Please don’t hold that against me either. I learned early in life and it stuck.
Oh and I seriously like to knit, keeping it really simple with knit, purl, and maybe an occasional yarn over. It’s so Zen.
That’s probably more than you wanted to know about me. But hey, I was on a mini-roll.
Thanks for stopping by. If you can tolerate my idiosyncrasies, I would love to hear from you!
Ummmm….I’ll try to post photos later, after I get the hang of this!
A Little Bit More
I’ve had this red polka-dotted skirt hanging in my closet for years. I saw it. I had to have it. Now why on earth would a plus sized woman buy a knee length red polka-dotted skirt? Impulse. That’s my story. Just impulse.
I’ve never worn it. I’ve pulled it off the hanger, put it on, twirled around, taken it off and dressed in other things. I don’t recall having left the house with the skirt on my body.
But having it in my closet makes me smile. It’s a happy skirt. Perhaps it’s that red/white Razorback thing from my college days. Dino-tipping was popular then. (for all you city folks out there, see cow-tipping).
Perhaps it’s my personal reminder not to take things too seriously or a glaring bit of impulse that speaks to my random nature. Perhaps I just like polka dots.
So, here I am. Fulfilling another impulse, a lifelong impulse. The impulse to write. There are scores of pieces of paper, bits of napkin, notebooks with aimless thoughts recorded, scraps of poetry, hidden in this house. This is my attempt to focus.
So, now, I will write to you, dear reader, whatever comes into my head. If I am dedicated and pay attention, perhaps my fringe-dwelling habits and lots of story-telling exercises will one day afford me the focus and skills to write my very own piece of fiction. It will be a dream come true.
Please do not be offended by my innuendo laden wit or my occasional colorful language. And please know you are appreciated greatly.