Archive | January, 2010

A Rare Sentiment: I Kind of Like Myself

Last week, or maybe last month, or some time in the recent past, the crowd I ran with in high school got all excited about posting pics of our high school charades on Facebook.

Typically, this brings on thoughts of how fat I’ve become or how much I can’t stand myself now.  But having said that, I looked at these pics and thought, Wow, I’ve kind of .. I’ve kind of grown into myself.

I don’t know.  Whatever.  Look at me when I was a mere bebeh:

This was.. maybe.. my junior year?  Yeah, had to be: that’s when I got the Rachel cut.

This was one of my BFFs all through high school and I miss her something fierce because she JUST WON’T GET A FACEBOOK ALREADY, CATHERINE.  Anyway, this is one of a thousand choir trips we went on.  And because we were JUST THAT COOL, we’d hit the Dollar Store first and go buy cups and sunglasses and other crap so we could all match on the trip.  I don’t know why.

Finally, remember how I’ve said a bazillion times that Glee gets under my skin because I lived it and it’s NOT REALLY LIKE THAT?  Behold, I present to you the Original Cast Recording of Glee:

I’m the third from the left.  And, if I may, I looked damn good in the one-shoulder-pouf dress.

My point is this: I was not entirely comfortable in my skin in high school frame, and now?  Well, okay, I’m not 100% comfortable now, but I’m at least smart enough to never rock the Rachel cut with a one-shoulder gold sequined dress with a full skirt lined in fishing wire.

If I was lucky enough to spend any of my senior year with you, you are always fondly remembered in my heart.  I miss you guys more than my waistline, and that’s saying something.  Stay in touch.  Also: THERE’S NO BLUE MONDAY IN YOUR SUNDAY CLOTHES.

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What I Never Knew I Always Wanted

Let it be known and forever remembered: I SUCK AT GIFT GIVING.

Truly and muchly.  SUCK. AT. IT.

Come Christmas time, I seriously have to pick some random genre of gifts because I need that sort of boundary to work within. (This year, it was books. I gave everyone books that I thought they’d enjoy. Not exactly creative, but personal just the same. Or so I tell myself.)

Valentine’s Day? OH, SO MUCH OF THE SAME SUCK.

It sincerely helps that Bryan and I are not rich.  Never have been, and we definitely cannot justify spending any large amount of money on ourselves. So our gifts must often be meaningful AND cheap.  Which makes it sound easier to plan, but .. um .. when you’re ALREADY bad at it, it doesn’t help much.  At all.

Over at Southern Fried Snark, we’re beginning a Valentine’s List of Gifts That You Do Not Under Any Circumstance Give, and while doing that, I was looking at the most popular Gifts for Him.

And I couldn’t help but smile.

My husband is not a fashionable man.  He just doesn’t care about trends.  He has a specific cut of jeans, and if I buy anything else, he will sulk and pout and he MAY try it on, but most likely, he’ll go back and return it for his preferred cut.  I had to gradually introduce him to cargo shorts.  He does not wear jewelry, other than his family heirloom ring and his wedding ring, and he doesn’t wear a watch.  He does have an extensive collection of shoes, but most days, his job has so much running around to be done that sneakers are his go-to pair.

It just smiles to write all of that, because when I was 22 and dating, I was always interested in men who preened.  I liked men who knew the fashions, who adopted the latest trends, who got excited about things like that.  And when I was 22 and dating, it seemed like a good fit.  It’s taken me this long to realize that those men also looked at me and critiqued what I wore.  If I wasn’t wearing something trendy enough, they’d remark on it.  Forget about keeping up with the Joneses; I was having to keep up with my boyfriends.

This man that I’ve married and built a life with?  Finds me beautiful in sweats.  Loves me when I come home late and throw on pjs and am too tired to move.  And is just as complimentary to me if I’m in jeans and covered in baby stains as he is when I’m in a formal ballgown.

I dress for me now, not for my date.  That’s pretty damn awesome.

(Although I still need ideas for Valentine’s Day.  Email me.)

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Like a Million Bucks

So.. y’all know I may have a little bit of an obsession with a little store known as LOFT.

Okay, I HAVE A PROBLEM.  It’s an addiction.  I know that, okay?  But I can stop at any time.  Really, I can.  It’s just that I don’t want to.  But if I wanted to, I could totally stop.


In order to curb my addiction and keep my marriage in-tact, I stopped working there (because the 50% discount? KILLER) and haven’t been back since.  Sure, I’ve got a majorly full shopping cart online that is just a click away from putting us in debt, but I HAVEN’T CLICKED IT YET AND I THINK I DESERVE A NOBEL PRIZE.

Having said that, I haven’t purchased any clothes for myself since I quit LOFT.  So, like, MONTHS.

I was talking to a lady at work who had this super-cute sweater on and it was TOTALLY LOFT looking and I was all, “Oooh, you’re a LOFT girl?” and she was all Oh, I wish, but I can’t afford it and I got this at Maurice’s.


I had never heard of this Maurice’s.  Apparently, it’s been open on the other side of town for six months now, but I never go there because .. well .. I live on MY side of town.  Makes sense, right?

(Note to all non-locals: our town is, like, maybe twenty minutes of driving. I’M JUST LAZY.)

Friday was my day off of work and so I took a drive to Maurice’s.  Well, I actually looked online at their stuff first. (Do it!) AND DUDES, IT WAS AWESOME.  It was the first time in .. I really can’t remember how long .. that I loved almost EVERY piece of clothing I tried on. (Not even LOFT was that lucky.) Sure, some of their clothes are a bit young for what I wear (I’m not a clubber .. is that even the term? for, like, raves.. not for destroying baby seals?), but they had some great work/layering pieces that I fell in love with.  And?  Prices were SUPER reasonable!

(I happened to walk in during a 75% off sale, so GO ME.)

I walked out of there with, like, eight shirts, two dresses, two blazers, three necklaces, a pair of earrings and some sunglasses.. for about $150.  That’s, like, A PAIR OF PANTS FROM LOFT.  And now I can make it through the spring.

My husband tells people to go buy new shoes constantly.  It’s not because they need them, but because when you have new shoes on, every step you take is brand new.  It’s a new direction, a new movement.  I kinda feel that way in these clothes.  Like I’m putting myself back on, but newer.  A little bit more prepared for the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. (heh.) And I looked TOTALLY HOTT yesterday in my new dress.

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Starting Anew. (again.)

Every Monday is like New Year’s Day to me.  Always has been.  Sunday nights are a mix of hope and agony, knowing that a full week of work is  in store for me, but also knowing that I have the power to make or break it.

Usually, by Thursday, I’m squarely in the “BREAK IT” camp, but I digress..

This Monday is no different.  Coming through two weeks that were hell at work and having the same two weeks dedicated to a show, I come out on the other side realizing that I’m FINALLY starting to get back on track with sleep.

When you have a baby, and I’m telling you all this like you don’t already know it, you go through a period of time where you climb into bed around nine p.m. and pray that you get to sleep until 5 a.m.  You cherish every moment of sleep.  There are no LATE NIGHTS, only EARLY MORNINGS, and sleep is something that you reprioritize everything else around.

I think we’re done with that.

These last two weeks, I went to sleep around 10:30-11 at the earliest, woke up around 4 or 5 every morning.. and I’m fine.  A little extra sleep on the weekends, and I’m normal.  I feel like 25 year old Sarah again.

So I’m working on that being routine.  Being up at 4 or 5 gives me time to get dinner prepped for that night, catch up on work before anyone else is awake, and just generally have some quiet time to myself.  I used to scoff at all of the mothers who said they did that, mostly because SURRENDER SLEEP?!OHGODWHY?!, but now I get it.

7:00 a.m.  I’ve worked for an hour and a half, I’ve got dinner in the slow-cooker, I’ve showered, emptied the dishwasher, fed and watered all of the animals, and I just feel like I got a good headstart on the day.  And this is after an 11:30 bedtime.

Of course, I realize that I’ve just jinxed this and now Tony will wake up every half hour tomorrow night.

But for today?  I’m feeling froggy.

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Epiphany, Pt Deux

(Continued from this post)

Six years ago, there was a lot of drama in my life.


Because, sometimes, our little theatre community gets a bit incestuous and feelings get hurt and (SURPRISE) actors may have a flare for the dramatic.  No one was innocent in those transactions, myself included. ::ahem:: Six years ago.

But time marches on, as you can imagine.  I got married and had a baby and life happened.  You know how that happens?  Suddenly, you’re knee-deep in basketball games and diaper changes and car repairs and you wonder how you ever had time for drama before?  Well, that happened.

On one side of the fence.

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