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Out of the Box

In a world overwhelmed by possibility, sometimes it sounds really great to have someone else make your choices for you and put them in a neat little box.

Kitchen Itch

So how did we get here? The short answer: a bevy of resources and good old-fashioned guilt. We got married, and suddenly there was this room of pots and pans and spatulas and measuring cups and blenders and spice racks.


So we turned our backs on the ocean and found one of the last things we expected to find on the beach in France: a ping pong tournament.

I Can See Clearly Now

Like I said, I worry a lot. My husband tells me that about 50 percent of the time that I feel bad about something, I shouldn’t. Our honeymoon was no exception.

Kramer, Mr. Kramer

As I mentioned, equality is huge component of our relationship, and this post is no exception. So, without any further ado, I give you the future Mr. Mitchell Kramer.

Stranger Than Heroes

The moment brought me back to reality: I know nothing about these people. I was more bothered by this development than I should have been. While I knew these people didn’t live in the little box I had created for them, couldn’t they at least wait until I left the beach to step out of it?

The Kids Are Alright

The clever phrasings, the lilting harmonies, the bone-soaking sadness, the hard-earned joy—it fills me up with the subtle satisfaction of uncertainty.

Mouth Over Matter

It has even worked its way into my eating habits. That sandwich is the best on the menu, you say? The one with a lot of things on it, yeah? Okay I’ll pass.

Tiny Death Concerts

I foolishly believed that my love of the concept of the Tiny Desk Concert would be enough to make me love the majority of the Tiny Desk Concerts. I was mistaken.

Tidying Up: The KonMari Method

For each item you own, hold it in your hands and ask yourself, “Does this spark joy?” If the answer is “yes!”, you keep it. If the answer is “no,” you get rid of it. It’s that simple.

It’s In The Cards

Much like Ron Swanson, I believed that birthdays were invented by Hallmark to sell cards. And if Hallmark sells it, I’m probably not interested. But this year was different.

Picking at the Past

I used to play the guitar. Never well, but I used to play. I did it because I had to—during the application process, I ticked a box that said “I know a few chords.” My fate was sealed.

Oh Snap

Do not snap pictures of people when they don’t know they’re being photographed (unless it’s funny. Then do it every time, obviously. Ten seconds of embarrassment is good for the soul every now and again).

That’s Where We Want to Go

I knew it as soon as I saw it on the map with all the little pins. This was the worst. Kokomo, Indiana. It’s basically Pawnee without Leslie Knope there to keep it afloat.

Take Only What You Need From It

But the undeniable truth is out there: I, Catherine Kramer, am the author of Boy Meets World Continued, published by the Mrs. Vanden Brink Press (a print-on-demand operation) in 2001.