I'm Katie. I'm a journalist, but enough about that.

the end is nigh

PUMPKIN SPICE GREEK YOGURT?! 

it’s so good. i would know. i have enough blueberry chobanis in my fridge to fill my sink. those tasty little bastards.

“Japanese Maple” →

a beautiful poem about dying.
it will make all of your feelings gather in your throat.

My existential crisis playlist

Includes Jennifer Lopez and Jeff Buckley. It’s hilarious and scary and I think I could sell this as the millennial mess answer to That’s What I Call Music.

this week i found a gray hair and bought some orthopedic insoles GOODBYE YOUTH

Up near the pictured rocks in Grand Marais, Mich., is where I spent summers with my grandparents when I was a kid. My grandpa used to take us flying along the coast and along the giant rock faces to see Miner’s Castle and Lover’s Leap. It is the most beautiful sunset you will ever see, and yet so few people venture that far into the Upper Peninsula to see it.
My grandpa had an amphibian plane, a Canadian Clipper, and would land it in the lakes and fly us out. One time, he flew me and my brother up and over our family’s “Tree Farm,” a logging camp my great-grandfather established several lifetimes ago. My grandpa buzzed the lake, and my grandmother was out on the dock with her St. Bernard, waving her arms at the sky, calling us home.
Just weird little things I remember, these things I know I’ll never get back.

Up near the pictured rocks in Grand Marais, Mich., is where I spent summers with my grandparents when I was a kid. My grandpa used to take us flying along the coast and along the giant rock faces to see Miner’s Castle and Lover’s Leap. It is the most beautiful sunset you will ever see, and yet so few people venture that far into the Upper Peninsula to see it.

My grandpa had an amphibian plane, a Canadian Clipper, and would land it in the lakes and fly us out. One time, he flew me and my brother up and over our family’s “Tree Farm,” a logging camp my great-grandfather established several lifetimes ago. My grandpa buzzed the lake, and my grandmother was out on the dock with her St. Bernard, waving her arms at the sky, calling us home.

Just weird little things I remember, these things I know I’ll never get back.