Random Things (About Me) Thursday...

(Christmas 1990 with my cousin Steven)


(March 2004 in Las Vegas)

I have a lot of time to think at work. And Today I was thinking about myself and some of my quirks and little-known factoids that make up who I am. (I know, a bit self-indulgent.) But I thought I would share:

1. My first name is actually Sarah Kay. No, Kay is not part of my middle name. Sarah Kay. One name. Well, two names, but...you get it. I think the story goes that my mom liked the name Kay after one of her close friends and my dad liked Sarah for no reason in particular. So they threw them together. And very few people actually call me by my full first name. My mom would when I was in trouble. My Dad would occasionally. My Uncle Gary did all the time. My aunt Karen still does. And my cousins Cindy and Paul both still do. But that's about it.

2. I hate pancakes. I don't know if I've shared this before or not, but I HATE them. Not "would prefer not to have them for breakfast," but more like "am outraged when offered them." I don't really know why. Maybe it's the way they absorb syrup or the way people order them in huge stacks, or how some people try to make them sound more appealing by calling them "fluffy." Whatever it is, I HATE THEM. However, if in "silver dollar" form, I find them less offensive.

3. I also hate spoons. When given a food item that can be eaten with either a fork or a spoon (Mac and Cheese, mashed potatoes, etc), I will always take the fork. And when given a food item that requires a spoon (ice cream, soup, etc), I will search high and low for a disposable one. I think maybe it has something to do with the fact that the spoon has a lot of surface area that touches the inside of people's mouths. Multiple people. And that's all I can really think about when using a spoon. That someone else's ENTIRE mouth was on and around that spoon. Now the fork, on the other hand, should hardly touch the lips if used properly. That's a utensil I can eat with.

The spork? Well, it is a handy invention, I'll give them that. And more often than not, they are disposable, so they are ok by me.

4. I am writing a novel. I guess most people have figured that out by now, but there it is. I am a writer. Or, at least trying to be. My goal is to be published by the time Logan hits 3rd grade. And I'm always looking for names to give my characters. So if you ever want to be written in. let me know. However, after Julie Driscoll told me that she wanted her name in print, her character has turned into quite the beeotch. So...be forewarned.

5. I am dieting. And this is the first actual diet I have ever done in my life. And so far, it seems to be working quite well. I already hit goal number one, which was to drop below *** lbs. And I managed to do it in 4 days. So while I am hungry and can't wait to up my calorie intake again, I am getting in better shape for Zac's sister's wedding. In August.

6. I may become a resident of the state of Washington sooner rather than later. But this is a developing story with no real confirmation from the Associated Press yet. More on this later.

Well, that's all for now.

Happy Father's Day...

To this guy:


And this one:


And him, too:


...but since this blog also serves as my journal, I need a little self-indulgent moment. This is going to be an Uncle Gary post and might get sad, so feel free to stop reading.

My first Father's Day without an Uncle Gary to send a card to was really hard. I remember looking for cards in the Hallmark section of Walmart and finding the "For Uncle" slot. I freaked out and called my mom, hysterically crying. She probably had no idea what I was saying through my gasps and sobs. And I'm sure I was freaking out the other nearby Walmart shoppers. But I couldn't stop crying until I put that card in my cart. Of course, once I bought it, I had no idea what to do with it, which seemed to only make me cry more. Then the Saturday night before Father's Day, I went to the little grocery store near our apartment and bought some balloons. Sure, maybe it was corny, but I tied that card to those balloons and let it go the next morning up in the mountains, alone. There was a nice breeze, so I let go.

And the balloons dropped right to the ground. The helium seemed to have leaked out just enough that the balloons couldn't support the weight of the card. Again, I started sobbing. Even my stupid little gesture wasn't going to work. So out of frustration, with tears in my eyes, I started cutting away at the balloon ribbons with my car keys, hoping that would lighten the weight just enough. I waited for the breeze to come back, held my breath...and it worked. Slowly, the bunch of balloons drifted up, taking the card with them. I must have watched them for half an hour, until they were just a tiny little speck in the sky.

Now I'm not claiming that the card I wrote made it's way to heaven or whatever, but I don't really like to chalk things up to "just coincidence." either. And maybe it took a while for that card to reach him, but I think I got a "Thank You" tonight. I was feeling a little heart broken, wishing that I could just say "Happy Father's Day" to the person who was most like a father to me (aside from my Daddy, obviously) and a song I had never heard came on the radio. {side note: every Saturday night, I listen to "Show Tunes Tonight" on KOSY 106.5...all show tunes, all night long.} And this is the song I heard:



I had just pulled the van into our parking spot when I heard my name in song (which I love anyways). Both of the kids were sleeping, so I turned off the car and sat and listened. And I cried a little. And after I got the kids in bed, I found this video. And listened to it about a million times.

Of course, I can't find the song on iTunes or Amazon or anything, but there is this. (If you know where I can get it, let me know. It's called "Sarah" from "The Civil War" the musical.)

So...Happy Father's Day, Uncle Gary. Hope your cards have been getting to you.

Because Christine Facebooked Me And Told Me To Post...

I've been busy. I know that's not an excuse, but I find my time is better spent with my children than blogging. Case-in-point:

Instead of blogging a few weeks ago, we went to Utah Lake:







And last night, instead of blogging, we did this for about 20 minutes:



See those PJ's? Logan wore them when he was tiny. And now I make K wear them. Why? Because they remind me of the PJ's the baby in "Labyrinth." And we all know how much I love that movie. And nearly every time I put K in these jammies, we listen to this:

So what else can Miss K do these days besides bring up feelings of cheesy 80's movies? Well, like you saw briefly, she can clap. She has also learned the signs for "more," "all done," and we're working on "please." She points, waves, gives kisses, and gives hugs. She is also just barely getting out of her stranger anxiety phase. She is crawling at the speed of light, standing, and walking along furniture. She is getting so big. It's hard to believe that she will be one next month. One year old. Where did the time go?

And how about that Logan boy? Well, he will be three. On Monday. It's insane. And he will get his own post then.

So I suppose this post is a bit scatter-brained, but that's what you get when you request a post that I haven't thought through enough :-)

Sigh...

Well, at least we aren't the only ones feeling hopeless right now!

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