KATY WISE GREER
By day, Katy is a brand marketing leader, while at home her husband and two sons, Wiley and Hill, call her “mama.” Hailing from middle Georgia, today Katy resides in Conyers, where, in her free time, she chairs a food insecurity non-profit. If you run into her at an Atlanta bar, she’ll take the Whistle Pig rye or the Loire Valley chenin blanc, thank you.
Let’s get one thing straight: the point of the long bath is not to get clean. The point of the long bath is purposeful unproductivity – to take a large swath of time wholly for yourself in an age when society increasingly demands you split that time again and again in the name of living a productive life…
Look, I’m a proud Southern liberal, so I’ve never had any qualms with espousing an unpopular opinion. But, I know this particular one is going to put a bee in a lot of your bonnets, so, gird your pantyhosed loins, because here goes…
My name’s Katy, and I’m a proud Southerner. I’m also a reluctant and recovering participant in what I call respectful racism.
The editorial staff here at Conversational is delighted to bring you the Style Issue this month, and we thought we’d kick it off with one of our favorite topics: beauty products. To know us personally is to know how very different each of us is. We share common ground, but we always have unique opinions, differing personal goals, and truly unique senses of style…
I’m hella depressed, if you don’t mind me using a clinical term. This isn’t a revelation – I’ve been depressed before, and then I wasn’t, and now I am again. “Depressed” is actually the perfect word for it, if you think about it etymologically. A state of being pressed down… like a button under a thumb…
These two editors are turning into their mothers — and they’re loving every minute of it.
I think I’m going to die young. Please hear me: I don’t want to meet an early demise… I just think I probably will. We can blame it on the casual nihilism of certain sects of country folk, or all the rock music I’ve delighted in through the years, or the fact that few people in my family have made it out of their fifties alive.
’m really not the crusading type. Honestly, I don’t have the time or energy to pick up a righteous cause, after all the full-time working and momming and volunteering and writing is done. But, if I were a crusader for a cause, it would be organ donation. More specifically, kidney donation.
I can’t handle small talk. I’ve long considered it an exhausting pageant of patience, and life is fleeting, so I’d rather spend what precious time we have left in this mortal realm discussing the things that really matter.