{Kitty} Military Wife. Journalist. Aquarius. Loves: Cocktails with silly names, failing miserably at yoga, traveling, reading, and sleeping in with Lola the wonder-cat. Hates: Math and deployments.
Hello! My name is Kitty Lascurain. I was once a serious journalist with a promising magazine career ahead of me, but somewhere along the line, I fell off the corporate track, and I’ll be damned if I can find that sucker again. Honestly, I just don’t think I was cut out for life in a box. I mean, have you ever seen anything as ugly AND unpractical as a cubicle? I guess they are supposed to give you the illusion of privacy, but let me tell you, they’re not fooling anyone! I could still smell my neighbor’s tuna salad, and while I’m sure that gloomy, grey color is all the rage for cubicle walls, it sure doesn’t do much for morale. Seriously, would it have killed them to give me neon pink walls!?! I think not!
Luckily, I was rescued from my bitter corporate fate by my husband, Jeff - A handsome, earthy, make-you-smile-until-your-face-hurts kind of guy who believes in family, numbers and common sense. I, on the other hand, am literally afraid of numbers, (I swear fractions give me nightmares) and wouldn’t know common sense if it hit me with a big stick. That’s exactly how he managed to convince me to marry an Air Force pilot, move half way around the world, and take up residence in the English countryside, where I am, apparently, supposed to conduct myself like a proper lady.
At first, I was determined to go back to work. Despite my clear hatred of office furniture, I immediately applied for a million jobs, but I couldn’t even get an interview! It’s as if they thought that the simple act of talking to an American journalist would bring their publication bad juju. Obviously, my office tea-making skills would be below that of a common intern, and that would simply never do. Without quality tea, the whole place would fold.
Eventually, I began to day dream about impaling the next snotty British editor who blindly rejected me with my three-inch, AMERICAN stiletto. I’d be sure to use something tacky - like a rhinestone-studded, fur-trimmed Wal-Mart Special– They’d never even suspect it was me! Despite the brilliance of my initial plan, in the end, I decided to go in another direction and create my own writing outlet. Thus, abellevie! was born.
abellevie! chronicles the misguided adventures of me - a slightly-neurotic, not-so-serious, American journalist – as I travel around Europe attempting to act like a proper English lady and officer’s wife. You will also find postings on everything from fashion to politics – What can I say? You can take the girl out of the magazine industry, but you can’t take the magazine industry out of the girl.
The word “abellevie” is my own quasi-French creation meaning “a beautiful life.” I chose this name for my website because I truly believe that life - with all its ups and downs, dents and bruises - is a beautiful thing. It may not be perfect, but the flaws give it character – at least that’s what I try to convince myself after catching a glance of my face in the mirror pre-Maybelline. I hope it reminds my readers to celebrate the beauty in their own lives and take an active role in making the world a more beautiful place for women everywhere.