I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

About Me

As part of our quest to support women’s issues, Katana Photography is excited to announce our first ever Celebrating Survival contest!
Having any kind of cancer is frightening and confusing. In recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Katana Photography is welcoming all survivors from all forms of cancer to participate…

Weekly Photo

When I was looking to buy my wedding invitations (back in April), I found a lot of designers on Etsy. After narrowing it down to a couple different designs/companies, I contacted both for their pricing list. One was pretty significantly more expensive–almost $2 per invitation more. Which I think all…

Weekly Style

When talking to people about photography, I hear one phrase over and over again: Kids and dogs are the hardest subjects to photograph.
I, personally, don’t have this problem with my clients…kids and dogs are among my favorite things to photograph. Maybe it’s because I like to have any excuse…

Weekly Puppies

Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

Weekly Coffee

Towels and House Guests

It was a sweaty, hot day in NYC. I stepped off the train in Brooklyn, blocks from my home. After having to transfer 3 times because of construction on the MTA lines. And before that, having been on a train for 2 hours traveling from Philadelphia. Where it was standing room only—FOR TWO HOURS.

It was a miserable trip. The number one thing I wanted to do was hop into the shower and scrub the smell of train off my body. Yes, “train” is its own scent. I slid the key in my lock expecting to be greeted by my dogs…but instead sitting in my family room was a group of 5 people–and Sean standing there with a beer.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day today!?”

I gritted my teeth, nodding and forcing a smile.

I said my hello’s to the guests, asking them not to get too close to me…I didn’t want to be an ungracious host. I just really, really needed a shower.

I slipped into the bathroom and peeled the damp clothes from my body. It felt like taking a layer of skin off. The steam from the shower filled my nostrils and I immediately felt better. I noticed 4 different used towels hung up around the bathroom. Unsure at which ones were used by Sean’s dad (who had visited for the weekend while I was out of town), I grabbed the towel that I had been using before I left. It needed to be washed, but one more use wasn’t a big deal.

After cleaning up and hanging out a few hours, the guests left. I wandered around, grabbing random bits of pieces that needed to be laundered. Approaching the bathroom, I yelled to Sean: “Which towels did your dad use in here?”

He came up behind me. “Why?”


…blink, blink…

“Because we need to wash them.” It seemed so obvious to me.

He paused again. “I don’t know. Just wash them all.”

Breathe, Colleen. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean, I don’t know. He probably just used whatever was in there.”

“…but…but, my towel was also in there. The towel I just used today as well.”


“So?!?!?! It’s my towel! MY towel! I DO NOT share my towels…particularly not with your dad!”

The conversation went on like this for about 30 minutes. Me: BECAUSE IT’S GROSS! Him: But, why? It’s just cells. Me: BECAUSE IT’S GROSS!

He couldn’t understand why it was a big deal..but I was really disgusted that he really didn’t get why it was considered so gross. In my experience and opinion…if you go to someone’s house, you either bring your own towels, or you expect to be given a clean towel that you will use for the weekend. YOU DON’T JUST USE WHATEVER TOWELS ARE AROUND AND HAVE BEEN USED ALL WEEK.

Apparently Sean doesn’t know how to be a good host. A host launders all pillowcases and sheets after a guest leaves. All towels given out should be clean and folded.

We finally came to the agreement that “because of social rules, we need to give guests their own towels, pillowcases and sheets” but I could not get Sean to admit that not doing so is disgusting. He claims that the couch is more disgusting than a used towel.

Anyone else have thoughts or opinions? I always believed that this was just proper etiquette when it came to house guests.

So basically, if you come to stay at our apartment, make sure I’M home when you come for the weekend. It’s the only way to ensure clean towels.

Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!

Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!

When I lived in Hell’s Kitchen, a friend of mine came to stay with me for a couple weeks while he found an apartment in the city. In so many ways, this friend was a wonderful house guest. He was very clean, walked the dog for me during the day, stocked my pantry, took me out to dinner…and only smoked pot outside on my fire escape (awww, so nice of him, right?). But at the beginning of the third week, when I knew there was only another couple of days before he moved into his own Brooklyn apartment, he spilled half a jar of spaghetti sauce in my kitchen. I heard the crash from my bedroom and shrugged it off. I spill shit all the time. I grabbed the paper towels which were in my room since I had been cleaning and headed toward the kitchen. When I reached the doorway, I saw him bent over the mess using my beautiful William Sonoma towels and a hand embroidered towel a friend had gotten me from Italy to clean up the marinara sauce.

It took all of my strength not to make him sleep in the street those last couple of days.

Pictured above are my new towels. The bird towel I found in a tiny boutique in Long Island. Within a day, I caught Sean using it to dry the dishes. Is this a man thing? It must be…my only solution was for the first month to have a post-it on the towel that said “Fancy Towels - Do Not Use!  It finally got through to him.