“I can’t even walk through the lobby of that theatre without remembering you.  I kept thinking, ‘Why is a girl like that stuck in a town like this?’  You were just so amazing.. you seemed so out of place for a town so dull.”

“I think it’s rather amazing here.”

“I do too.. now.  I never thought I’d be homesick while IN Atlanta, but that last trip, I could not wait to get home.  And you have made this home.”

People who knew Delle and I when we were younger.. back when we were mortal enemies.. were often surprised we didn’t get along.  Well, scratch that.. people who know us NOW.. being best friends for years now.. are often surprised we ever hated eachother. 

What it took us awhile to learn is that there is a chromosome.. a gene, if you will (and spare me, you biologist/chemist/scientology freaks who are gonna tell me that a chromosome and a gene are two different things).. that the Lloyd and Brown women share.  It makes us cynical, right ALL the time, and just generally fantastic.

Case in point: I had the following conversation with someone through text messages.  And without telling you, you would never know if it was between myself and Delle, myself and Jenni, or myself and Delle’s older sister Carolyn.

Them: Wine and gold?  Why don’t the bridesmaids wear cheerleader outfits and the groomsmen wear padding?  Wine and gold, Sarah, really?  ROLL TIDE is what that screams.

Me: It’s as far as I’ve gotten.  And it’s likely to change.  Calm down.

Them: Wine and gold are NOT Sarah colors.  Think of your hair, woman!  Redheads and wine do NOT work.

Me: Actually, I wear wine very well.  And need I remind you.. I’ll be in WHITE.

Them: Yes, you’ll be in white, I’ll be wine, and PJ and I will stand next to eachother and talk about how badly your hair clashes with your own wedding.

Me: Wow, I’ve changed my mind.  You’re now wearing gold lame.  Tread lightly or you’ll be wearing burgundy spandex before it’s all over.

Them: Down, Bridezilla, down!

I love ‘em.

Well, I take back that earlier post.  Most of my work today needs to be done on the phone, and they have chosen today to vaccuum our hall.  And cubes.  And offices.  So there’s not much I can do to be productive at the moment.

The cleaning crew carries the vaccuum containers around on their backs.  And they get REALLY irritated if, when they walk in, you sing, “WHO YA GONNA CALL.. GHOSTBUSTERS!”  But, you know, I thought it was funny.  And that’s all that matters.

There is nothing more frustrating when things COULD be easy, but people insist on making them difficult.  When you keep saying, “No, we could do THIS,” and THIS is easier, but NOOOOO.  Why does everything have to be big and flashy and huge?  Why can’t it just be simple?  Isn’t simple pretty?

I guess that’s what’s on my mind.  Yesterday was a VERY trying day, emotionally.  I feel like everyone is very firm in what they want, and they all have a very specific idea in mind of what they want, and some people even feel like what they want is key to how other people perceive them.. but I can’t stress enough that there are easier ways to do things.

Look at me.  I am a simple girl.  I wear my hair short and curly so it takes me five minutes to do in the morning. (The WildeChicks would contend that I wake up with my hair styled, but I assure you, that’s not the case.) I do my make-up without a mirror because it’s not difficult or involved.  I wear very simple clothes.. trendy, sometimes, but always simple.  I’m not a girlie girl.

Sometimes, it’s like people have never met me.  Or they did, and it’s just a non-issue.

Very vague venting, I know.  And a hellified alliteration there.

When it comes down to it, this is what I have to say: all I want is to wake up on July 15th and know that, when my head hits the pillow that night, I will be Mrs. Sarah Brown.  That’s all.  Spare me the organza, I don’t need birdseed wrapped in tulle, and above all.. have a good time.  THAT’S me.  Everything else is someone I’ve never met.