Archive for August, 2012

About LittleTwit ~ Why am I here?.


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Dad and his girls, 1975

Though I broke up the ‘Karl’ bunch, being the 7th born with three brothers and three sisters ahead of me, here is a shot with just dad with his Little Women.

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Little Twit circa 1975ish

Little Twit

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Well, I must put some hours in at my paying gig and also fill out my sons college financing plan.  I’ll cry a bit when doing this… not just because I’ll miss him…if you’ve ever looked at a college bill, you know the root of my sorrow.

Dreams are only thoughts you didn’t have time to think about during the day.
~Author Unknown

I’m going to start dreaming in the day light… here forward – XO Kak

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Though I mention styling my hair, I probably had more luck embellishing myself by way of make-up and earrings.  You see those Shirley Temple curls of my youth had not diminished through the years and for some reason, probably one too many short hair-doo’s being portrayed in Glamour magazine, I chopped my hair off not long before freshman year.  Now my looks had always leaned more toward handsome, she’s a handsome child, such a handsome young woman.  Why would I want to be handsome?  I would like to be beautiful, flowing, petite.  Handsome was Jo March in Little Women.  I wanted to be Meg, the soft and lovely.   To me handsome meant manly.  So when I chopped my hair off trying to capture the effect of some magnificent Dynasty character, I ended up looking like my brother Jeff.  Jeff was, and is, a good looking guy, but that’s not quite what I was going for.  Come to think of it, Jo chopped off her long locks too though our reasons were vastly different.  Compassionate and earnest Jo March sold her hair to pay her mother’s passage to be with their sick father.  I, however, hacked off my locks hoping I’d become ravishing.  It didn’t work. In cutting my hair, I had lost those long pretty ringlets that helped soften my countenance, pulling off a more feminine façade.  Curls, especially short ones lacking any weight, have a mind of their own.  I would blow my mane out and style to perfection.  Once the effect was achieved, I would shellac into place and say a prayer to God.  Heading outside, and if the humidity was over say 1%, my tresses would in a nano second yank back into tight ringlets and frizz unpleasantly.  There really wasn’t much I could do about it.  A fellow student, Paul, told me in class one day that I looked like a, ‘Pubic head’.  Charming.  Now Paul would sit there pencil tapping, feet tapping, eyes darting around incessantly, usually at anything female.  He never sat still and it drove me nuts.  Though he managed to reign himself in long enough to get good grades, he was borderline ADHD meets horn dog, ADHDHD I suppose, long before the medical community started diagnosing this common neurobehavioral disorder.  I replied to this creepy boy’s not so flattering assessment of my crop saying something along the lines of, ‘You’re a spaz in heat,’ sticking my tongue out in a pant, moving my hands and legs around wildly at my desk to provide a visual.   We became fast friends after that still are today.  He went on to have 3 beautiful daughters.  Not long from now his angels will be heading to high school and somewhere, everywhere in these high school walls, will be little replicas of Paul.  Tap happy, girl ogling boys…though these days they might be slightly medicated.

Hey Paul,

Good luck with that!



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As a child, the call of the outdoors could at times be intense.  A sunny day, hearing a few friends screeching and giggling, perhaps playing on a slip and slide in the distance, was difficult to ignore.  One of my earliest memories, in which the neighborhood played temptress to my better judgment, occurred around the age of four.  My Dad was taking me out somewhere, maybe to Dairy Queen for his Dilly Bars and my cherry dipped cone.  Wherever the intended destination was, I was just happy to go somewhere with my dear Dad.  Dad never yelled at Kak.  I was the baby, still sweet and very much loved by all at the time with the exception, perhaps, of my sister Jeanne.  She was the cute blond baby Karl before I steam rolled in with my Shirley Temple curls.  She was not one of the older sister’s that helped along my entrance into this world, pleading to Mom and Dad for a new baby in the family.  Poor Jeanne, she was only 5 when I dropped in and for a time she probably had no idea what the hell happened to her universe.


As dad and I were about to hop into the family station wagon, I was told to wait a moment as he ran back inside.  I recall my father saying something along the lines of, ‘Stay right here.  Do not leave this driveway’.  Piece of cake.  Now, we were lucky to live in a safe little neighborhood.  No boogie men hiding behind the trimmed shrubs of the Ackerman’s, Huckle’s and Houseman’s. Dad felt OK running into the house to do whatever needed to be done while his child held vigil on the driveway.  To fill the time, I probably hop scotched a couple times, tried not stepping on the cracks, poured salt on a slug, who knows.  But time wore on, about a minute, and I became bored.  That’s when I saw them… standing around the bright red fire hydrant on the corner, my friends. Not only did I see them, I could now hear them. Laughing, laughing,laughing!  Oh what could they be laughing at?  The fun was erupting from their grouping and the lure of this assemblage began having an effect on me.  It started with a step, then maybe two in their direction.  It was like the draw of a magnet.  Come play with us Kathleen.


Oh, red rum.  Before I knew it, I was amongst them.  What’s up, hi, what a joy to be here, isn’t this the best hydrant ever… and then I heard him.  ‘Kathhhhhlllleeeen, get over here!’  The elation I was just feeling shot out of me like a bullet.  I didn’t pee in my pants but I felt a new sort of fear and anguish.  My Daddy never yells at me.  Oh the disappointment, he trusted me with this stay in the driveway thing, and I failed!


Head held low, I slowly made my way past the Housemans’, past the Ackerman’s.  I made my way up the driveway, no longer caring if I stepped on the cracks.  I apologize, Mom.  Then he scolded me.  Oh the thought of it, the disappointment in his tone, my first notable reprimand.  Perhaps I recall this incident so clearly because even at that young age I knew better than to dis-obey my Dad and leave the safety of home unsupervised.  His chagrin was not something I cared to experience again.

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Creativity ~ I believe we all have it though some lean into this world a bit more.  I grew up drawing, reading and writing stories.  Always expecting to launch a career in art, life’s responsibilities directed me instead into corporate business for those little things like a steady pay check and benefits! Now my stifled creativity is fighting back!   2012 was a year of many changes.  The loss of an adored parent, children hitting milestones…these and other factors have propelled this Little Twit to give my old dreams a go.  It’s only too late…when it’s too late.   When not working in sales or matching socks, I have a concept I’m working on to benefit the State of NJ.,  The project is meant to provide free marketing/advertising aid for our farming community and create self-sustaining revenue for NJ agri projects and endeavors.

Since moving to a more rural part of NJ, I’ve become interested in gardening and am a huge fan of farmers markets and the bucolic setting that surrounds me.  Gardening is another ‘creative’ outlet.  I truly enjoy digging in the dirt and nurturing a small seed into a robust plant or beautiful flower.  I take many photographs of these backyard green initiatives…and then eat them with my family.

When not in the garden, I’m co-writing and illustrating an interactive children’s book series with my oldest son.  It’s been a wonderful experience.  The first rough copy was read to some area schools and very well received.  Much more work ahead, however,  to get this properly launched.  My other project is a memoir, ‘Come Back Down to Earth, You Little Twit’.   It’s a funny, wacky, loving story about growing up in a big family.  Kaki (that would be me) is not a film star, politician, nor realty persona but her story, about a 20th century childhood lived to its fullest, is a familiar and refreshingly real ride down memory lane.    With an endearing cast of characters, most of them my family, the book explores the beauty in the ordinary.  This warm memoir, which journey’s through the mind of a pubescent child turned adult, revisits the mystical to the mundane, finding humor in it all.  Where there’s love and loss there is also laughter and faith and when all else fails, stick a roast in the oven.

More recently I’ve started to draft a TV Series/Movie idea appropriately titled, ‘Little Twit’.  The project content is derived from some of my family, as well as my own, experiences.  I’m lovin’ this project.  What I am NOT lovin’ is trying to secure an audience with production companies and literary agents.  Certainly not an industry and endeavor for the non relentless!

As I learn how to navigate these pages, I hope to take you on a walk down memory lane.  When doing so I will also share my artistic set backs and triumphs, and the joys of living in a house filled with testosterone… XO Kaki

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