tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35092789123824352512024-03-13T09:15:38.058-06:00Attractive NuisanceSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-43919636644150103302011-10-02T12:31:00.003-06:002011-10-02T13:06:35.054-06:00The Lesson I Learned From RobynThis weekend Zach and I have been busy attending the semi-annual general conference of my church--the Church of Jesus of Christ of Latter-Day Saints. (You may access it at: lds.org.) During these times, I find myself reflecting more often on my current life, past circumstances, and how I can become better moving forward. Lately I've been thinking of one particular scripture as it relates to recent experiences. <br /><br />See, The Book of Mormon starts out following one family. Throughout the book, people separate into different groups designated by the suffix -ites. But in the most peaceful part of the book, it says, "There were no robbers, nor murderers, neither were there Lamanites, nor any manger of -ites; but they were in one, the children of Christ, and heirs to the kingdom of God." (4 Ne. 1:17)<br /><br />I kept thinking about how relevant this scripture and this attitude is today. Because we all want to feel needed and wanted, we align ourselves with different groups. As a result, we consciously or unconsciously alienate others and become divisive--sometimes over minor issues. <br /><br />I am guilty of this. I remember the first time I did this. When I was in elementary school, there was a girl named Robyn. She didn't dress very well and she never had her hair combed. As a result, people teased her. In order to fit in with the majority, I teased her as well. One night over dinner, I brought it up with my family, possibly hoping that they would vindicate my behavior and engage in the teasing as well. My parents' answer surprised me. My mom said, "She probably doesn't dress well because she doesn't have much money." And then I asked, "Well what about her hair? She never brushes it." My mom replied, "Maybe she doesn't have a brush or she was never taught good hygiene and she needs someone to help her." My perspective completely changed. My mom gave me money to pick out new clothes for her and to buy her a fancy brush and some other things. It was the end of the school year and even still, I was nervous to give the gift to her because I didn't want anyone to see me talking to her. i was also nervous that by giving it to her i would be hurting her pride and someone letting her in on our secret gossip-fest.<br /><br />In reality, none of that happened. I nervously walked up to Robyn and handed her the gift. I told her I thought she might like it. she thanked me and lit up inside. She was so grateful, and I could tell most of it came from someone just coming up and talking to her. I have never forgotten about Robyn or about that moment. But sadly, it still has not prevented me from doing this again. And I guess it's hit me now more than ever because recently I have felt like Robyn.<br /><br />It is not fun to feel on the outside of a group. It is not fun to feel like you are the one who unites a group--uniting a group in their common opinion of you. The silver lining of this feeling is the further impact it has on me to ensure that I am never the cause of someone else feeling alienated. I remember again the good and lasting feeling I had when I handed Robyn the present. It's great to know that I can do that again and again by being simply being a friend.<br /><br />Oh, and I'd really love to find out where Robyn is today and be her friend. Robyn Reed: are you out there?Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-41818886345865966392011-07-29T13:49:00.003-06:002011-07-29T13:54:26.085-06:00Tyler Glenn Chest HairOkay, does anyone else check out their blog statistics? One of my favorite features is looking at search terms people enter to get to my site. My favorite one from this week was "tyler glenn chest hair." How in the world did someone get my blog from that search term?<br /><br />So I have a question for you out there: whether you're a friend, a family member, or someone who googled "Nate Ruess laughing" and got my blog instead. What are some of the crazy search terms that lead people to <span style="font-style:italic;">your </span>blog?Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-38771991677170035302011-07-27T10:20:00.001-06:002011-07-27T10:21:40.404-06:00New Post Over at the Pendletones.comI'm slowly phasing out this blog. So if you follow this blog, go ahead and change the address to Pendletones.com. You'll be glad you did.<br /><br />While you're there, revel in the differences between Zach and me.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-18443180982306677022011-07-20T23:26:00.004-06:002011-07-20T23:40:02.753-06:00Wedding Dress HelpTonight, the wedding dress consultant got mad at me for not having a dress picked out yet. The problem is that I have all the odds stacked against me.<br /><br />* I need a modest dress with sleeves<br /><br />* I want a dress to fit in with the classic vintage (1920s)theme<br /><br />* I need it to be in my size (I currently fit into wedding dresses from sizes 8-14)<br /><br />* I need a dress that looks good with my body type (probably the hardest one to satisfy) A-line and Empire waist types look best on me (It has to fit my larger chest, small waist, and hide my enormous hips)<br /><br />* I don't want to spend a fortune<br /><br />So...does anyone have any suggestions? Or does anyone know someone who has a spare wedding dress lying around that might possibly match that description?<br /><br />I'm freaking out here.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-57093782474395863032011-07-20T13:07:00.002-06:002011-07-20T13:09:58.038-06:00Check Us Out!Okay, I know it's in its infancy stage right now, but I'm too excited that it exists to even wait for it to look perfect. So everyone go check out my new blog at <a href="http://pendletones.com">Pendletones.com</a><br /><br />Leave us a comment and tell us what you think!Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-30022522883870560582011-07-11T11:55:00.008-06:002011-07-11T12:12:41.745-06:00McKinney FallsA couple weekends ago, my sister's family and I went park hopping in Austin. Our first stop was McKinney Falls State Park. When we're not in the worst drought in South Texas history, there are actual running waterfalls and natural springs where people swim. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PnyvJO7UDFlK2Xtw7NoVTT3SIYG5VsBVzijR8m0v2PqVyTnThOs2cYuU0So3mZGScQgvpRSk0dJoxHuu3nRdM7wR7pxzx0aEfQDl2BkD_EBieMKhaV8ncnksSZAbSvID9QKCDLQnemg/s1600/IMAG0431.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PnyvJO7UDFlK2Xtw7NoVTT3SIYG5VsBVzijR8m0v2PqVyTnThOs2cYuU0So3mZGScQgvpRSk0dJoxHuu3nRdM7wR7pxzx0aEfQDl2BkD_EBieMKhaV8ncnksSZAbSvID9QKCDLQnemg/s320/IMAG0431.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628157426300199762" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNhBk0vGoSU11MvNuoMfRMBmq1TOP7DMkyjRgb350ZCjiIZ6SE6RMp9JrpEgzahkS3co8FdFnDb-h-5FM8J1kibBby6WOVFgtHo6OmwYIWFIbI_0r1qFJESY0QxmGd7QJcw2aGF3x9K0/s1600/IMAG0432.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcNhBk0vGoSU11MvNuoMfRMBmq1TOP7DMkyjRgb350ZCjiIZ6SE6RMp9JrpEgzahkS3co8FdFnDb-h-5FM8J1kibBby6WOVFgtHo6OmwYIWFIbI_0r1qFJESY0QxmGd7QJcw2aGF3x9K0/s320/IMAG0432.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628157619339954370" /></a><br /><br />Although it was probably beautiful when there was more water, it still was fun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZfuzmlUDAehmyyW4CpZkxK517Q5_VHc-qi2XOb1ApEkg_J0wL_vCZGk2Z8QgRJwZi8Kp63zFDh6-tFNQPi6sFvQRPD1wm3xeeB1wOnIhT6gaT4RvLkEnkcNQS5jdKqepejqUWbgG-TM/s1600/IMAG0433.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZfuzmlUDAehmyyW4CpZkxK517Q5_VHc-qi2XOb1ApEkg_J0wL_vCZGk2Z8QgRJwZi8Kp63zFDh6-tFNQPi6sFvQRPD1wm3xeeB1wOnIhT6gaT4RvLkEnkcNQS5jdKqepejqUWbgG-TM/s320/IMAG0433.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628157817158395810" /></a><br /><br />There were these neat bridges, tall trees, and ancient caves where native Americans used to live.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0OTg_o7POAbg5fA_mWwDsLDylxFqaMEZBLNpfAISATj0Cd9y69lTjcMeT76KlRVjHDx8vn-DkqpjeQPTnOA7Omob1WiKqFREYJmJw9y86qAOuOp0Uj0Tj6SAgusHyWIV8pyIM8WQgbE/s1600/IMAG0426.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0OTg_o7POAbg5fA_mWwDsLDylxFqaMEZBLNpfAISATj0Cd9y69lTjcMeT76KlRVjHDx8vn-DkqpjeQPTnOA7Omob1WiKqFREYJmJw9y86qAOuOp0Uj0Tj6SAgusHyWIV8pyIM8WQgbE/s320/IMAG0426.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628158129875683298" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hip1iG9TaO1OXoTfjUVNWuJTfX5YDosRy9621jSZRosiaovprsG-x3y8iYt9dZD3u4oEaH5MZakcGIbwHU0CiiLPz62hNglKUf7ap-x68CG9j0AtSO83jzPrmvDZEKGkNa1JVX3bv_8/s1600/IMAG0427.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hip1iG9TaO1OXoTfjUVNWuJTfX5YDosRy9621jSZRosiaovprsG-x3y8iYt9dZD3u4oEaH5MZakcGIbwHU0CiiLPz62hNglKUf7ap-x68CG9j0AtSO83jzPrmvDZEKGkNa1JVX3bv_8/s320/IMAG0427.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628158529942783314" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBwJvjUTiEqNhr6i0RS0pZH7Q_-7OT99hBFFfSkVf5uI6ArPHByT1jIC4_4mv6Az1EIF751VxUbTRgtpGcOKvou59A6IuETC5jJ1izCK05fz42gMe1yR-gGLK-8CjWHoKsmNbkWp5IoI/s1600/IMAG0429.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBwJvjUTiEqNhr6i0RS0pZH7Q_-7OT99hBFFfSkVf5uI6ArPHByT1jIC4_4mv6Az1EIF751VxUbTRgtpGcOKvou59A6IuETC5jJ1izCK05fz42gMe1yR-gGLK-8CjWHoKsmNbkWp5IoI/s320/IMAG0429.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628158785093828530" /></a><br /><br />But the highlight was the friend we met in the visitor's center. Don't you just love her hair?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMZuh-Cz26ptOrcBZJZ9i5PH01k2wks13-H127aAh74b4RZYJwXEpeMEAd86tkb2kgSanqryXWIs_stXkzAf_90p9OetPzY4S85TdSooiAzqpLlZCmuBYjgua5map1sru7KwRwbpTqw4/s1600/IMAG0425.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMZuh-Cz26ptOrcBZJZ9i5PH01k2wks13-H127aAh74b4RZYJwXEpeMEAd86tkb2kgSanqryXWIs_stXkzAf_90p9OetPzY4S85TdSooiAzqpLlZCmuBYjgua5map1sru7KwRwbpTqw4/s320/IMAG0425.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628159250559156130" /></a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-87633727637087086462011-06-13T17:27:00.002-06:002011-06-13T17:31:45.743-06:00MotivationI want to lose weight. <br /><br />Diet, exercise, rinse, and repeat. I get it. But today I learned the most inspiring way to lose weight.<br /><br /><br />TRY ON WEDDING DRESSES.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91TFGHT6ReNHhdNI7UaFka3Vh_qg04v04Z0FtcmYmBrFd3WNYte2ya1bGOWz8jDHH31RRD-ClUtvxpMQlRAueZss_lbxQQ3yNwgubRso_xvVFYHP0vKGpK22wGGeh0tkLmydEUEJOAMI/s1600/wedding+dress+1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91TFGHT6ReNHhdNI7UaFka3Vh_qg04v04Z0FtcmYmBrFd3WNYte2ya1bGOWz8jDHH31RRD-ClUtvxpMQlRAueZss_lbxQQ3yNwgubRso_xvVFYHP0vKGpK22wGGeh0tkLmydEUEJOAMI/s320/wedding+dress+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617850924764818098" /></a><br /><br />Nothing makes me feel gross and smushy more than trying on a wedding dress and realizing I'd like to be about four sizes smaller. So if I keep it up and try on one wedding dress a day until I get married, I may actually drop four sizes. Here's to hoping.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-25977416458013820542011-06-11T15:39:00.003-06:002011-06-11T15:44:13.164-06:00Newly Engaged DebutMy nephew, Christian, is a novice producer. He's learning a lot of things, most notably how to work a camera. But he also wrote a comedy sketch featuring Mrs. Smith (an intelligence tester at school) and Stewart (a less-than-intelligent student). If you can forgive the shaky camera work, I think it's pretty funny.<br /><br />This was also filmed about 24 hours after Zach and I got engaged.<br /><br />Enjoy: <br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7a01uuwh08">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7a01uuwh08</a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-41857866651068172202011-05-25T14:58:00.014-06:002011-05-25T19:10:53.278-06:00Tulips Are My Favorite Flower...and Zach is my favorite man.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwDz_wuh1Qvp9UXNtZ20Yz3-8aB4tS_94oooqJaGQrvh98fYz1CK6nXaGuAoNtn7gP4kPVbBg6cL280Q3G8feIVSN84mq0-tytZBuWz1xeYk_kq-L10-tJKkLBzaBkDRqjj8aiNRrWKs/s1600/Zach+in+his+room.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwDz_wuh1Qvp9UXNtZ20Yz3-8aB4tS_94oooqJaGQrvh98fYz1CK6nXaGuAoNtn7gP4kPVbBg6cL280Q3G8feIVSN84mq0-tytZBuWz1xeYk_kq-L10-tJKkLBzaBkDRqjj8aiNRrWKs/s320/Zach+in+his+room.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610776529969333730" /></a><br />(Behold Zach. I tell him he looks like a muppet. This picture proves that I'm right.)<br /><br />Zach and I have been friends for almost two years now. It was a cordial friendship while I cycled through dating several different men. Those guys were great, and I never planned on dating Zach ever. Then something happened to Zach where he got his heart broken in a really big way in December. We were studying for finals together when things were falling apart, so I tried my best to make every experience positive for him--as positive as studying about marijuana distributors and cocaine addicts could be (It was criminal procedure, guys. Not my choice). <br /><br />When we came back from the break in January, I continued to spend time with Zach, hoping to help him recover and hoping to help him not lose faith in dating or women or both. In the process of serving him, listening to him, and understanding what he was going through, I started to develop strong emotional connections with him.<br /><br />Zach became an even better friend. We started dating. Although it was slow and casual, my care and concern for him and his well-being deepened. I got to know not just the "crisis-mode Zach" but the fun Zach, the silly Zach, the rapper Zach, the wicked smart Zach, the thoughtful Zach, well you get it--the many sides of Zach.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSlCwHEyUQg7H1ifYy66AZtjfiHvYHkeQMVCkswpGTNYS_b1wzH8QEp8hb1CP1TBE6YsJI2tHYCIjudsd77MLq_FfUEkxiNi8uM3hupTax1VZlcm9OhbWRajMQ_1ufiJCQkVceNDob34/s1600/Zach+and+I+in+the+car.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSlCwHEyUQg7H1ifYy66AZtjfiHvYHkeQMVCkswpGTNYS_b1wzH8QEp8hb1CP1TBE6YsJI2tHYCIjudsd77MLq_FfUEkxiNi8uM3hupTax1VZlcm9OhbWRajMQ_1ufiJCQkVceNDob34/s320/Zach+and+I+in+the+car.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610777877213040066" /></a><br />(We went on our very first road trip to Vegas. Think Hangover combined with That Thing You Do. That was our trip.)<br /><br />(And we went to the Beatles LOVE show.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7E8vbtIP_Jf4-LS_xTREJFZOTcbj6H8ZyYuulPwPj057471RjblDSsIsk_RGmWYMVSWeNe9kAhlyvEvSCOKNhzQDfv4e5oKdidSU_vq8DwN_K9gQrSSOzobR7C-sMN2JBx2D79aGxZ0/s1600/Beatles+Love+Show+2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7E8vbtIP_Jf4-LS_xTREJFZOTcbj6H8ZyYuulPwPj057471RjblDSsIsk_RGmWYMVSWeNe9kAhlyvEvSCOKNhzQDfv4e5oKdidSU_vq8DwN_K9gQrSSOzobR7C-sMN2JBx2D79aGxZ0/s320/Beatles+Love+Show+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610785585187159522" /></a><br /><br />It was wonderful to learn about him, to serve him, and to become so close to him, but at the same time I was constantly getting bogged down by external forces that made me doubt and question daily whether we should be together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GeeelGIkEh_8v-ztZGczZSY-Vdps5yHkf3KRIYrwnzA6pTefAbmph_bBd-qnGYqqn63pRYQOKmhX6oHzKlhLfQ380OSv4Gvcx3_Hu-OF3l_MVeI-URQpl5Iqj5RyyP_SRkq7pE1Whwg/s1600/Acrostic+of+Zach.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GeeelGIkEh_8v-ztZGczZSY-Vdps5yHkf3KRIYrwnzA6pTefAbmph_bBd-qnGYqqn63pRYQOKmhX6oHzKlhLfQ380OSv4Gvcx3_Hu-OF3l_MVeI-URQpl5Iqj5RyyP_SRkq7pE1Whwg/s320/Acrostic+of+Zach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610788215088449026" /></a><br />(An acrostic I wrote on my doorstep before one of our dates.)<br /><br />Then something serious happened. Because these experiences are so special to me, I will leave most of them off this blog, but I just want to touch on some of them. My mission president said some things at the mission reunion in early April that really struck me. He also said some pretty profound, even prophetic things. That experience, coupled with a few more during General Conference weekend, led me to the largest, cheesiest display of affection I have ever undertaken. <br /><br />I wrote down 100 things that I love about Zach, coupled them with a note, placed them inside a case with a bass guitar (he plays bass), and left it on his parent's doorstep where he was staying that weekend. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0YF8dxYmvt-AqZldkJGfcTpbFtbSu5mIZNGMUAzMNDumUJ_WmGVpNsdyuABPd_UQGAM5qYW1jy-ABIXIENZjqg9sHI7tBsotY9JdhAs7vBpqYFpKgibsr6hYeU87Kvo3OGsEgGUy3XY/s1600/Zach+and+the+Bass.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0YF8dxYmvt-AqZldkJGfcTpbFtbSu5mIZNGMUAzMNDumUJ_WmGVpNsdyuABPd_UQGAM5qYW1jy-ABIXIENZjqg9sHI7tBsotY9JdhAs7vBpqYFpKgibsr6hYeU87Kvo3OGsEgGUy3XY/s320/Zach+and+the+Bass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610786741448953090" /></a><br /><br />A few more things happened, and I realized how much I loved Zach and how patient I was willing to be for him to do the things he needed to do to figure out his life--to get back to normal and to be happy again. I decided not to care about any external factors and just to focus on loving Zach and showing him the respect and patience he deserved.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAv2PwlphratTmaN82Z-0hjA5_0ZLHEHliMrBmQkQRfTYSLBvt7ifUHRK9fMAvAD2UUL-8pbYyNwRdAqbznyPwT_zZAh23t0mdPEpl604XKvZIE3RJpYAwIBur5mKmD3NLeBc1ohKWpY/s1600/Zach+and+I+at+Nikis+party.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAv2PwlphratTmaN82Z-0hjA5_0ZLHEHliMrBmQkQRfTYSLBvt7ifUHRK9fMAvAD2UUL-8pbYyNwRdAqbznyPwT_zZAh23t0mdPEpl604XKvZIE3RJpYAwIBur5mKmD3NLeBc1ohKWpY/s320/Zach+and+I+at+Nikis+party.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610778629695640226" /></a><br />(This was a pivotal night--a day that will live in infamy.)<br /><br />Over time, though, I realized that resolve was harder to keep than it was to say. And another wonderful guy came into my life who was ready to date me, to commit to me, to serve me, and to love me, without the constant relationship-nurturing that it seemed our relationship required.<br /><br />I was happy in my new relationship, but I never felt the deep, abiding connection that I did with Zach. From the moment I broke up with Zach, Zach had begun an elaborate scheme to try to "win me back." Yeah right, I thought. He had his chance. I was convinced that this was "crisis mode" behavior--that he was acting on impulse and that he was not really like this. <br /><br />I didn't speak to him for a week. His friends, his family members, and our mutual friends sent sincere and heartfelt text messages and gchats my way about how hurt he was and how I needed to at least talk to him. And I felt bad for Zach. So I did just that.<br /><br />I talked to him. And we spent time together. Then we talked some more. Days passed. After I realized he hadn't gone crazy but that he had just realized a little slower than me how strong his feelings were, we continued to date.<br /><br />And I have never been happier. I was always happy with Zach before, and I loved him just the way he was, but now when I see the Zach who actually reciprocates feelings, I am blown away. He is the world's biggest sweetheart. And the funny thing is, I didn't even need or expect a sweetheart. I just wanted a really close friend.<br /><br />Luckily Zach is that and so much more.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WglxZAFD7vwvMdzenivHFKzENQ4nGWP94Qye93wbeMrE3WbWw3h37JDqWE38xmYbrG0Fj_7CCOUPKWjwxgPqJyIhFb0WSnB6VA33yRNn7yqKTXp0Ouixk_JGvG5jrDMsmgPVFtFI65s/s1600/Zach+and+Sara+at+the+Tulip+Festival.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WglxZAFD7vwvMdzenivHFKzENQ4nGWP94Qye93wbeMrE3WbWw3h37JDqWE38xmYbrG0Fj_7CCOUPKWjwxgPqJyIhFb0WSnB6VA33yRNn7yqKTXp0Ouixk_JGvG5jrDMsmgPVFtFI65s/s320/Zach+and+Sara+at+the+Tulip+Festival.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610787630617533378" /></a></span><br />(He took me to Thanksgiving Point's Tulip Festival after finding out that tulips were my favorite flower.)<br /><br />(Sorry for the sap. I just thought I talk a lot about the drama of dating that it's time for me to be a little vulnerable and actually share a sweet story.)Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-27902969961243206052011-05-17T14:36:00.002-06:002011-05-17T14:40:53.290-06:00GradesI will be so happy for the day that my performance and success in life is results based and not grades based. When I write appellate briefs, I want the outcome to be my client winning the appeal, not receiving an A- in drafting. When I become a mother, I want my teaching techniques to my children translate into well-mannered and educated offspring, not a B+ in Child Development.<br /><br />But until that day, it's nice to see straight As on my transcript from last semester, if only for a small while.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-47379843895355309182011-05-16T12:47:00.002-06:002011-05-16T12:56:06.355-06:00Fame and FortuneHello Internet,<br /><br />I have a nephew.<br />He is pretty neat.<br />He's only 11 years old,<br />But he's 100 percent sweet.<br /><br />He likes to learn new stuff<br />and finds it rather fun.<br />Instead of getting dirty<br />he likes to get things done.<br /><br />So he and his best friend<br />Made a film called World War 3<br />Then they made a commercial<br />And sent it along to me.<br /><br />He said he wants to be famous<br />And fame equals a youtube view<br />So if you love me or him or youtube<br />You'll click below to make his dreams come true.<br /><br />Thank you. Love, Sara.<br /><br />C<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCao6MmEVGo">hristian's Commercial--Click here</a><br /><br />P.S. I'll post World Ward 3 when it becomes available on DVD. Check back soon.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-54211899330917464522011-05-06T11:55:00.000-06:002011-05-06T11:57:12.160-06:00I am happy to stay single forever.Really.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-34688107595266705442011-05-03T19:00:00.015-06:002011-05-03T19:35:11.387-06:00Music RubbersI'm SOOOOO grateful I have musically talented friends. I hope that some of their talent rubs off on me. The reason I'm gushing over my musical friends is that I just developed a whole bucket load of pictures from the past year and I noticed a common theme: concerts, jam sessions, music after parties, and moments that should've had their own soundtrack. <br /><br />Here is a little sampling of the wonderfulness that was my musical year.<br /><br />This is Rhett and me in Vegas. What's musical about it? I'm wearing a "Fun." shirt. What's cool about this picture? My camera's lens broke, so we just asked the drunk woman who took it to point it in our general direction and we'd find out later if the photo would develop. Turns out it did:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbp31bTI4Ax7w1FCfAFkATmbWM2Haa1XMbz0tCTHxQM2QeT8N52DsBlt4NNEOQwJZYTMWzUGlshLxOauezkcU0E0ihDpMph_6VNWhFtnxuuhdjVb4Hk9M7eBx0v2n4JX-u8lNvtN7VNg/s1600/12000001.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbp31bTI4Ax7w1FCfAFkATmbWM2Haa1XMbz0tCTHxQM2QeT8N52DsBlt4NNEOQwJZYTMWzUGlshLxOauezkcU0E0ihDpMph_6VNWhFtnxuuhdjVb4Hk9M7eBx0v2n4JX-u8lNvtN7VNg/s320/12000001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602660946391621666" /></a><br /><br /><br />These are pictures of my hot (married) former Temple Square mission companion and me at Candlelight Serenade at Thanksgiving Point last summer:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-fJYSq7dcU8thxHpsOfNsVXRiec_1LLtqGtufds2prElAyn9_YfyLbnNIvDmztSvNNVTeVZLfTAMK7BtOTYUCbKZ5xSFZalrAZ1WMVTIVf95Gz1HFSdFiw2MZK73xeuc4udDCs_tYoA/s1600/12000008.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-fJYSq7dcU8thxHpsOfNsVXRiec_1LLtqGtufds2prElAyn9_YfyLbnNIvDmztSvNNVTeVZLfTAMK7BtOTYUCbKZ5xSFZalrAZ1WMVTIVf95Gz1HFSdFiw2MZK73xeuc4udDCs_tYoA/s320/12000008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602661397621394354" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqN3pElEiEFKc3AlhVfhkYWpqVJ046E3pOL93OzPc5p5slgp6D5KT1rpgZRBS_Ob_8cYYEwVuHfJDo4lSVlpTSJ9D2Cd8l8R4GDUXG1bAkHQJ1obROd3yxuE5BPhmLDyQ3bVRXtxZYGX4/s1600/12000019.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqN3pElEiEFKc3AlhVfhkYWpqVJ046E3pOL93OzPc5p5slgp6D5KT1rpgZRBS_Ob_8cYYEwVuHfJDo4lSVlpTSJ9D2Cd8l8R4GDUXG1bAkHQJ1obROd3yxuE5BPhmLDyQ3bVRXtxZYGX4/s320/12000019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602661789317043506" /></a><br /><br />Then, what a surprise, I bumped into my BFF from my freshman year and later but less-close friend from a very hilarious circumstance that I would recount here if this blog were private. Alas it is not. Here is Tyler Glenn (of Neon Trees) and Ashley Mollerup:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuE7aG8RaQb9XFoYZV2OhiNAoZp2R2ZzLyHoTB7qgC1oknOhJM0hLCIF8RAra4o0tuQduTFQhoCOq-WDGDHrH8vVJwm_4BIRsFPODOlw9yGZ6xNCUWasgVFWTLeU1YPx-Ni7wUzS83sA/s1600/12000010.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuE7aG8RaQb9XFoYZV2OhiNAoZp2R2ZzLyHoTB7qgC1oknOhJM0hLCIF8RAra4o0tuQduTFQhoCOq-WDGDHrH8vVJwm_4BIRsFPODOlw9yGZ6xNCUWasgVFWTLeU1YPx-Ni7wUzS83sA/s320/12000010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602662493757214802" /></a><br /><br />And then at Travis' recording studio post Empirates show at Velour:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpxBENXq01Jh6MrHxB659X46Pysry_JmDf_9NboCg6VSnnJwFODlgJrgpBaC2yZ2wsIwx2W9rVFLSDRPkxE1qIVIFlE6jmBOwzlH8C0RbHT2kBuuSgVyRe0nNPfmDppyCmXcLu7KTIgI/s1600/12000034.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpxBENXq01Jh6MrHxB659X46Pysry_JmDf_9NboCg6VSnnJwFODlgJrgpBaC2yZ2wsIwx2W9rVFLSDRPkxE1qIVIFlE6jmBOwzlH8C0RbHT2kBuuSgVyRe0nNPfmDppyCmXcLu7KTIgI/s320/12000034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602662926456167970" /></a><br /><br /><br />And then Ben and me with this dude from Idaho whom we met at the Empirates show, who we invited to the after party, who subsequently came. He was pretty legit. But I lost his business card. If you recognize this man, please call me at 1-800-FIND-HIM:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PPkiLuoVCaQi3dqWVAWfOj0wjyb66oLFdKSdChUgn_jr_kIqsrE4ci5q91TsWbBRhkui7DMjQDyxmbuh_LmDAmTeF5JSlt73kELRQr0h5x5qMnVK7Lo7B-HCyEtRFi65An9cXj9ZOcE/s1600/12000040.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PPkiLuoVCaQi3dqWVAWfOj0wjyb66oLFdKSdChUgn_jr_kIqsrE4ci5q91TsWbBRhkui7DMjQDyxmbuh_LmDAmTeF5JSlt73kELRQr0h5x5qMnVK7Lo7B-HCyEtRFi65An9cXj9ZOcE/s320/12000040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602663522376308082" /></a><br /><br />Then some crazies got ahold of my camera and took crazy pictures. I can't identify the people. (Actually I can, I just shouldn't.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6lodBn8uZn12eP9OptBGnz6hlDRMb3VP6KydvPPmJ4oa9jUZ8ePgFcR-cyxtZ1QTDL3rJ5wkVbmuHwt6fP7BzCzm4w-UncD6ZxNqZaIGvfsV9fQtEq83tsG18ph_ygLEVx8Cj52AJfM/s1600/12000036.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6lodBn8uZn12eP9OptBGnz6hlDRMb3VP6KydvPPmJ4oa9jUZ8ePgFcR-cyxtZ1QTDL3rJ5wkVbmuHwt6fP7BzCzm4w-UncD6ZxNqZaIGvfsV9fQtEq83tsG18ph_ygLEVx8Cj52AJfM/s320/12000036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602663804330758610" /></a><br /><br />Two members of "Good Manor," a band I managed, waiting to receive their business checking accounts at Wells Fargo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY9lzBksh1O-gCjGSaFQwINClN3gCJ_06tWgQC8LC5N6DvuTNUBUTNpRtpp1Ih9QgYazC7P6fSfAZE1o7p5Q_m7tKelhd6d9e85XMVny-rhVFhPtLj8sXQMvA2rzkfmXRUFmia-2MWSM/s1600/12000069.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY9lzBksh1O-gCjGSaFQwINClN3gCJ_06tWgQC8LC5N6DvuTNUBUTNpRtpp1Ih9QgYazC7P6fSfAZE1o7p5Q_m7tKelhd6d9e85XMVny-rhVFhPtLj8sXQMvA2rzkfmXRUFmia-2MWSM/s320/12000069.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602664302270957346" /></a><br /><br /><br />Here is the opening act at a house show we threw last year. In the background is my future ex-boyfriend, Tanner with his soon-to-be ex girlfriend, Carolyn. Fun memories.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_26Gq-N2Pyz3JI06A_riUuUmgzH3UXwnKR3So31Of2mkSGfXijkoObqy9ipI3FzK2uEZ47EecHR_LjAkKUXRdv582KX0UadihhROcYDXq9HwfhbaUwSAWKtMIJqo_XMcPE-wq2OT2KSs/s1600/12000246.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_26Gq-N2Pyz3JI06A_riUuUmgzH3UXwnKR3So31Of2mkSGfXijkoObqy9ipI3FzK2uEZ47EecHR_LjAkKUXRdv582KX0UadihhROcYDXq9HwfhbaUwSAWKtMIJqo_XMcPE-wq2OT2KSs/s320/12000246.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602665368732365586" /></a><br /><br />And I took Leland to that same house show, where we made creme brulee and made everyone feel like we had planned pyrotechnics as part of the ambience. Truthfully we just wanted brulee on our creme:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLJnSumtBwSLFg4Dte3qzDji1sfivH-I3XnScAivzCV0P57I_MrQm7XDURSV7i-_CxGMpkZZhk1Iq23eiSo6U9fnNkuJTBl9iEo4ruE1jzyzuF6nDNmxt4NtF1kdQYGHp16bmSknh-2I/s1600/12000247.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLJnSumtBwSLFg4Dte3qzDji1sfivH-I3XnScAivzCV0P57I_MrQm7XDURSV7i-_CxGMpkZZhk1Iq23eiSo6U9fnNkuJTBl9iEo4ruE1jzyzuF6nDNmxt4NtF1kdQYGHp16bmSknh-2I/s320/12000247.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602666048021492386" /></a><br /><br />This is my sister-in-law Maria, her sister-in-law Virginia (or something. I don't remember), and me after my one and only 5K in Richfield, Utah on July 5th. My official time was 23:21 and 5th in my age division. That's why I will never run another 5K again. How does this relate to music, you ask? Well, to train for this run I made myself a play list of several "pump me up" songs so that at certain times during the run I'd know "Hey, when Miley Cyrus comes on, I should be at mile 1" and "Garth is singing: you better reach the finish line!" So yeah. There you go:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVcPcfG8BeOIL-DiKGD2WdMSPsFtEYBSbw9eGnHDYZl6ffjQzdsGJ-TTOpUwUO165eIBp-AOFs78ADcx3IewYC3eMnV4XNw56ChMxmxD4xE3w269xsB6LO2zk8KM5fuaNQqNsbC_UsJc/s1600/12000154.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVcPcfG8BeOIL-DiKGD2WdMSPsFtEYBSbw9eGnHDYZl6ffjQzdsGJ-TTOpUwUO165eIBp-AOFs78ADcx3IewYC3eMnV4XNw56ChMxmxD4xE3w269xsB6LO2zk8KM5fuaNQqNsbC_UsJc/s320/12000154.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602667729499894914" /></a><br /><br />And then the best of all--my bro. Last New Year's Eve we had a little impromptu karaoke party at the lake house. Well when we were all done and just chatting and playing relaxing card games, Chris (my brother) went over to the karaoke machine and just popped in song after song, singing along. We rang in the New Year with his voice. At one point, I looked at the watch so I could document how long he sang straight through. I think it turned out to be about 70 minutes. He's a champ.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SdmDe9VkjNc3oYcJCX6dovnsnHPKxSta68LYXQnDMvu5x_-q3izkEy93CF1OifpzKFJxoqIMVBjbsY-NfrvNA-0HgVqX8PrRiceygUSO3D0nL9EgNMJU1xBvxCXlY2ruTDg3FzwuXxs/s1600/12000274.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SdmDe9VkjNc3oYcJCX6dovnsnHPKxSta68LYXQnDMvu5x_-q3izkEy93CF1OifpzKFJxoqIMVBjbsY-NfrvNA-0HgVqX8PrRiceygUSO3D0nL9EgNMJU1xBvxCXlY2ruTDg3FzwuXxs/s320/12000274.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602666986936059714" /></a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-53400546957712216632011-05-02T15:31:00.003-06:002011-05-02T15:39:56.496-06:00In the mood againMore haikus anyone?<br /><br />I'm a little rusty but after someone wrote a gorgeous haiku for me last night, I got inspired.<br /><br />Since the first I thought<br />That it couldn't get any<br />Better. I was wrong.<br /><br />Hope is power that<br />leads from a great present to<br />A better future.<br /><br />Is this history<br />Repeating itself? Or was<br />I right the first time?<br /><br />All A's on transcript<br />Make me feel good about me.<br />You make me feel best.<br /><br />Writing in journals<br />Is cathartic. Writing on <br />Hearts is dangerous.<br /><br />More to come when I get over this obvious writer's block.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-84769029074373015992011-04-07T13:36:00.002-06:002011-04-07T14:00:42.962-06:00Daily dose of haikusOne, two three, four, five<br />My hands and thumbs are alive<br />I am not a monkey.<br /><br />To the finish line<br />My mind continues to race.<br />But my body's weak.<br /><br />I want everything.<br />And I won't let you say no.<br />Or I won't want it.<br /><br />Here's the thing: I love,<br />But I'm also bad at math.<br />How much can I have?<br /><br />Worry and worry<br />And stress and binge and freak out<br />All for it to end.<br /><br />Competitiveness<br />Seems like such a good thing but<br />It's so cancerous.<br /><br />When I was little,<br />My mom made me clean dishes.<br />Kitchens drowned in soap.<br /><br />I have five siblings.<br />I love them all equally<br />But all differently.<br /><br />Don't need to be friends.<br />I just need to win, his heart<br />Will never be yours.<br /><br />Time was on my mind<br />When I was wishing on stars<br />Now I just want change.<br /><br />I mean currency.<br />If I could have money, I'd<br />Buy your happiness.<br /><br />I hope that would work.<br />If it didn't, I think I <br />Know some other ways.<br /><br />Like, for example, <br />I could make you bacon each<br />Morning. You'd love that.<br /><br />Or always take out<br />the trash when it overflows.<br />I even mow lawns.<br /><br />But not very well.<br />I think I might be sexist<br />Because I think men<br /><br />Should do manly chores.<br />Or maybe I'm just lazy<br />And should learn new things.<br /><br />Here is the problem:<br />I can neither change oil<br />Nor sew a button.<br /><br />Then what can I do?<br />I can interpret cases<br />And write about them.<br /><br />I can have fun with<br />Other peoples' money, And<br />Be grateful for it.<br /><br />I can make music<br />And recognize the beauty<br />All over the world.<br /><br />But first I must go<br />And see the world for myself<br />Not just through pictures.<br /><br />I secretly think<br />My dad's promise for a cruise<br />Is all just a sham.<br /><br />But I deal with it<br />Because he paid for law school<br />For which I'm thankful.<br /><br />Class is starting soon<br />But not soon enough. Running<br />out of good topics.<br /><br />I hope you like me.<br />I hope we stay the same, but<br />better with grey hair.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-55700704837797661102011-04-07T04:36:00.002-06:002011-04-07T04:56:46.097-06:00Joe's HaikusNever get so attached to a poem that you forget truth that lacks lyricism.<br /><br />You know those people who just seem to speak in iambic pentameter? Yeah, me neither. But some people definitely sound more poetic than others. When I got on my haiku kick, I noticed my friend, Joe Alisa, was more prone to post Facebook status updates in haiku form unknowingly. It's awesome. So in honor of Joe, I'd like to give a sampling of some of his poetic statuses molded to fit the haiku form. Enjoy!<br /><br />Sitting on the couch<br />With kid, watching Breakin 2:<br />Electric Bug'loo<br /><br />Trying to finish<br />But dreaming of the IHOP<br />Future midnight run?<br /><br />How many people<br />Are writing their substantial<br />writing papers here?<br /><br />Weather forecasting<br />is a dead art. Now we have<br />Stating obvious.<br /><br />So much for the happy<br />Happy, joy Motorcycle <br />Day that I had planned.<br /><br />Hotwheels this morning<br />at 6:30? Do we have<br />to? But I love it.<br /><br />I'm Poly so I<br />like the Poi. I'm a Cougar<br />and I like the POY.<br /><br />Crazy accident<br />On the way to school. Full sized<br />van flipped on its side.<br /><br />Shout out to law peeps.<br />If you're not using all your<br />tickets, I need some.<br /><br />One month left to go<br />and I finally make it<br />in a web story.<br /><br />Shout out to law peeps.<br />Anyone have good cases <br />On Sharia Law?<br /><br />I thought giving Joz<br />A bottle would help him go<br />To sleep. I was wrong.<br /><br />Taught him everything<br />He knows. I really didn't <br />teach him anything.<br /><br />Yo to my classmates.<br />I found a book today in a room.<br />Did someone lose one?<br /><br />Doesn't feel so good.<br />You wanna buy a bulldog?<br />Drive-by Jimmering. (a composite)Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-21294914355311615422011-03-30T18:39:00.002-06:002011-03-30T18:42:14.860-06:00Haiku WednesdayI think you can tell my mood by the type of haikus I write. Obviously. I can't believe I'm sharing this; I'm not usually an art-sharer. I like to create art for my own benefit; so feel special that you are getting the first wave of Sara's public creativity.<br /><br />Don’t dig in old dirt,<br />Except to plant new flowers<br />Where love and hope blooms.<br /><br />The future’s brighter<br />Than any past memory.<br />Here’s hoping that’s true.<br /><br />I’m sure there were times<br />Where life was a lot harder<br />Than I give credit.<br /><br />My rock all along<br />Has been right in front of me;<br />Now I can see it.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-73694448819355297242011-03-29T21:02:00.003-06:002011-03-29T21:06:53.538-06:00The Book of Mormon and Daily HaikuI want to see <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3r34TTkMhg">The Book of Mormon</a> musical SOOOO badly. <br /><br />I'm going to New York in two months. When I'm there, I will see it for sure. Anyone interested in coming with me, let's rock the shows.<br /><br />-SEP<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Haiku of the day</span><br />Today was so long<br />And full of productive things.<br />Make it continue.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-27377936097604752972011-03-28T01:06:00.006-06:002011-03-28T01:55:26.607-06:00Haiku HeavenI'm convinced sleep is like a temperamental train; you can buy a ticket, but if you aren't on the platform when it comes (and you never know when it'll come), you may miss it completely. That's what happened tonight. <br /><br />So what do I do?<br />When I'm stuck on sleep's platform?<br />I write these haikus:<br /><br />Okay but seriously: My modern dance teacher asked us to write a haiku and choreograph a dance that symbolizes the haiku. So I started with haikus that are easily interpretable through movement:<br /><br />Snow drips off the trees; <br />Wake up from hibernation; <br />Spring has greeted us.<br /><br />AND<br /><br />I hear the tide crash.<br />It masks the loud screams of your<br />Unresponsiveness.<br /><br />Then, because I can't sleep, I continued to write and write and write and write. I'm afraid to share these haikus because at one point I think creative Sara dug too deep and personal with stuff she should not be sharing. But hopefully the true meaning will be lost on this audience. And hopefully you'll just get a kick out of some really cool/really lame/really weird haikus.<br /><br /><br />Cap and Gown in hand:<br />What took me three years to build<br />Is so quick to end.<br /><br />They said if I shout,<br />I would hear my echo back.<br />I wait, and nothing.<br /><br />Playing games is fun,<br />But what if your opponent<br />Thinks it is real life?<br /><br />Your words produce tears<br />That music can drink away,<br />But not forever.<br /><br />This life is to live.<br />Purgatory, though, I’ve learned<br />Can be hell on earth<br /><br />Haikus are easy<br />When they lack feeling and depth.<br />It’s overrated.<br /><br />I’m sorry I went,<br />I’m sorry I stayed; Forgive:<br />It’s a dirty word.<br /><br />Believe me for now,<br />But don't believe me always.<br />I don't believe me.<br /><br />Movement, song, and sport<br />Were such a part of my youth.<br />Now what do I have?<br /><br />It's easy to blame,<br />But harder to see the truth.<br />We cannot face it.<br /><br />Russian raises voice<br />To her Chinese boyfriend, Now<br />Starting World War Three?<br /><br />Pay me for my words;<br />Pay me for understanding;<br />Don’t pay for my love.<br /><br />Two princesses here:<br />One has rocks; one has knockers.<br />Which do you prefer? <br /><br />Never thought one day<br />I’d ever find myself here.<br />Don’t know if that’s good.<br /><br />I wish not to lie,<br />But it gets me what I want.<br />You are what I want.<br /><br />Remember the beach?<br />The warm tide and crabs at night,<br />Being young was fun.<br /><br />I can’t forget you<br />Even though it’s been five years<br />You’re a part of me.<br /><br />If I had said yes,<br />Would I be the person now<br />That I want to be?<br /><br />Kweller Forever<br />Reminds me of the city<br />And you on the train.<br /><br />Tulips in winter<br />And love in the fall. Summer<br />Is for breaking up.<br /><br />My bed is calling,<br />But my dreams just inspire<br />To keep creating.<br /><br />Friends come in and stay.<br />You serve them wine and bad cheese<br />And they go away.<br /><br />I like you, I think.<br />But I think things that are wrong.<br />Perhaps there's no love.<br /><br />Protecting her heart<br />Was what you wanted to do,<br />And now mine has stopped.<br /><br />Lying never works<br />Nor does telling the truth, though.<br />What's a girl to do?<br /><br />When you said "Goodbye,"<br />John wrote a song about it.<br />Now I say, "Hello."<br /><br />Why is she still up?<br />And screaming at her boyfriend?<br />Break up all ready!<br /><br />The house smells funny<br />Maybe it's the third day that<br />Food has been left out.<br /><br />Why do girls hate girls,<br />When the boy does something wrong?<br />I won't ever know.<br /><br />I hope I have kids<br />To shape, love, mold, and care for<br />Who am I kidding?<br /><br />Some dreams work better<br />When you pretend they'll happen.<br />I do that with you.<br /><br />If I was Iraq,<br />Would resources motivate<br />Your swift invasion?<br /><br /><a href="http://rule19party.blogspot.com/2011/03/news-feed-poetry.html">Click here</a> to read my haikus inspired by Facebook status updates.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-83845650373259646902011-03-28T00:34:00.003-06:002011-03-28T01:06:36.866-06:00News Feed PoetryI got sick of tapping into my deep psyche (I'm convinced now that the more "on a roll" you get with Haikus, the more you dig up stuff that should be left undisturbed.) So instead, I thought it would be fun to use people's Facebook statuses as inspiration for haikus. Some statuses hardly needed editing. Some required imagination and interpretation on my part. Either way, they're interesting to read, I think.<br /><br /><br />Experience joy<br />Thinking I had no chocolate<br />Then spotting the light.<br />--B. Daire<br /><br /><br />What’s up with all these?<br />Cute babies drive me crazy!<br />I’ll never have kids.<br />--W. Lee Chen<br /><br />Oh Sick! A brownie!<br />Wait, it’s just a bag of dirt.<br />This can’t fill my needs.<br />--M. Grow<br /><br />I thought I knew best<br />Not to take that blasted nap <br />Why did I give in?<br />--M. Heaton<br /><br />So glad for weekends<br />Recentering, relaxing<br />It has been perfect<br />--H. Haslem<br /><br />To ski or snowboard?<br />The final decision waits<br />Until next season<br />--S. Wilson<br /><br />Had a crappy day.<br />It ended better than hoped;<br />Thank you family.<br />--A. Byam Gardner<br /><br />In my family,<br />Hearing: "Well that didn’t suck,"<br />Is a compliment.<br />--W. White<br /><br />I know that He Lives.<br />The Redeemer gives comfort.<br />So does this sentence.<br />--D. Sparish<br /><br />Don’t click on the link<br />That asks if you’ve seen a pic.<br />It’s bad; I got hacked.<br />--L. Weatherholtz<br /><br />It’s time to go home.<br />Enough Substantial Writing<br />Fail for one weekend.<br />--J. Alisa<br /><br />At one point today<br />31 people were here.<br />Big families rock!<br />--C. Taylor<br /><br />And it came to pass<br />Tomorrow the PTA<br />Would rule the people.<br />--M. Fitzner<br /><br />Shout out to law peeps:<br />Anyone have good cases<br />On Sharia Law?<br />--J. Alisa<br /><br />Great Sunday today!<br />I love being LDS.<br />And I love the church.<br />--A. Paz<br /><br />Behind in classes,<br />Stressed out of my mind. And yet,<br />We bought our first home!<br />--C. Hutchings<br /><br />27 weeks<br />With Braxton Hicks contractions<br />Should I be worried?<br />-S. Rauch<br /><br />Thinking of summer<br />Prague, Croatia, and Nauvoo<br />Paninis with friends<br />--J. Tibbitts<br /><br />Most beautiful day<br />Every day should be perfect<br />Grilled steaks and nice walks.<br />--S. Lindberg<br /><br />Delicious cookies<br />Given one hour ago<br />Already they’re gone.<br />--K. Post<br /><br />Husband eats breakfast<br />Sardines with lemon juice, So<br />Is cookie dough wrong?<br />--M. Carmen Chinison<br /><br />Dreaming of bathrooms;<br />Also, my car got stolen.<br />Wonder what this means.<br />--S. Zollinger<br /><br />Those who danced were thought<br />To be insane by those who<br />Could not hear music.<br />--P. Deming<br /><br />Cold and pouring rain<br />My car window won't roll up<br />Five hours to drive.<br />--H. Hassell<br /><br />A guy in our ward<br />Looks like Paul Bunyan and sings<br />Soprano in choir.<br />--T. Merrill<br /><br />My mind will explode<br />With all this Drag that's tonight<br />Bring extra tissues<br />--A. Wainner<br /><br />BYU Singles<br />Can be compared to lepers<br />But that is unfair.<br />--Z. Pendleton<br /><br />I'm back in Utah.<br />Not looking forward to snow.<br />Texas is 80.<br />--T. WhiteSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-86191141719385811772011-03-04T01:24:00.003-07:002011-03-04T01:37:31.518-07:00I caved. Lips!You know what? I need to feel vindicated. So I found a picture of this girl's lips. (Don't ask. I'm all sorts of crazy--I mean crazy intelligent.) So please tell me I'm not too weird to have complimented her on her full, well-shapen lips. Some people pay good money for this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcYMfk3ON3WsmAiu6KhdZIQnpPouKNy9UJgXU58BYK8wjlmnvR56BRXPbaeHeMOv8mmZU_5YpA0v3XWaq2UaXu9xkQUdExVhOdK5a0i99obFZHeuXI60tnITFnpmfliJHF8R9xobnBL0/s1600/Nimmo+lips.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcYMfk3ON3WsmAiu6KhdZIQnpPouKNy9UJgXU58BYK8wjlmnvR56BRXPbaeHeMOv8mmZU_5YpA0v3XWaq2UaXu9xkQUdExVhOdK5a0i99obFZHeuXI60tnITFnpmfliJHF8R9xobnBL0/s320/Nimmo+lips.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580138523419681058" /></a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-92132634370253851232011-03-04T00:24:00.007-07:002011-03-04T01:36:53.333-07:00Embarrassing Moment of the DayMy life is one big embarrassing moment after the next. I like to tell myself that I do it for the sake of comedy, but sometimes things just slip out of my mouth. Perhaps I just have so much practice saying ridiculous things for the sake of a laugh that when it's time to just be normal, I'm already conditioned to be ridiculous.<br /><br />Moving on...<br /><br />I went to Smith's with some friends tonight to grab some "stay awake medicine." (Don't tell the honor code office.) <br /><br />As we were passing the feminine products aisles, along comes my ex-boyfriend Bryce pushing a shopping cart with some beautiful brunette by his side. I did the obligatory "Hey!" in an "Oh this is so not awkward to run into you, and I'm thrilled to see you again in such a non-confrontational environment" sort of way. <br /><br />Then came the, "Has it been long enough that we just say hi or keep walking or are we going to stop and pretend to catch up" moment? He stopped his cart. I stopped my entourage, and so as to not throw off the rhythm of the moment, I placed my right hand up in the air to give him a high five. As our hands were moving toward each other I realized he was actually trying to give me a hug. We ended up looking like one of those renaissance promenade dancers that take two steps in, touch each other's hand, and then take two steps back, only with a jealous female onlooker and a really awkward back story.<br /><br />Bryce then asked, "So what is this? Are we going to hug? Are we at that point?" So then he made me feel like I was the foolish one to respect his hugging space near a girl who, for all I knew, was his new wife. So I went in for a hug, screaming at my brain to not employ my usual manipulative techniques to intimidate the chick next to him and to get him to flirt with me back. I succeeded at that--and pretty much failed at life after that.<br /><br />So then Bryce and I made small talk for a few minutes, and I looked over at her to cue him to introduce us. He did. I reached over the cart to shake her hand and asked to repeat her name because clearly it wasn't the embarrassing, bed pan-esque name that Bryce had said. (To protect her identity, I will not reveal her name). But yes, she repeated her name, that allowed me to easily intimidate and destroy her. But I didn't. After my quizzical look she just said, "Oh bed pan, as in short for "Betty Panda." Ok... My mind was trying so hard to focus on the positive that I found the most obvious positive thing about this girl--her lips.<br /><br />So I did it. Right after, "Nice to meet you," I said, "You have really pretty lips." Oops. That sounds creepy. You better qualify that statement. "I mean, it could just be your lipstick," nope, not the right qualifier, though she did put on a lot of lipstick and it's kind of running off her lips at the top "or it could just be the result of good genes" Oh my gosh, I'm pretty sure I just gave her enough evidence for a restraining order. Look away. Just look away. I resumed conversation with Bryce and then got the heck out of there.<br /><br />I could go more into detail, but it's just too hard to swallow. Anyway, the moral of this story is... Oh who knows? I obviously don't have the answers.<br /><br />And because I like posts with pictures but I didn't want poor Bryce (or Bed Pan) to suffer, I will just include a picture of a T-shirt design contest Bryce and I entered once upon a time (and should've won, by the way).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjue8sWorDcOj2QnBLCGB16JepIUdm0B4xX7heFPGbhMaWcF9ouT72Nl8ovImpD-ak5xvQpWaq8glFVzRzrJeTkxJZtwxqXJyq0lkJlK8o-9yrSimM18jHpApzuK-9q_JGc3g28A31twVw/s1600/After+Park+City-02.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjue8sWorDcOj2QnBLCGB16JepIUdm0B4xX7heFPGbhMaWcF9ouT72Nl8ovImpD-ak5xvQpWaq8glFVzRzrJeTkxJZtwxqXJyq0lkJlK8o-9yrSimM18jHpApzuK-9q_JGc3g28A31twVw/s320/After+Park+City-02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580135610277672642" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Update</span>: Click here for <a href="http://rule19party.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-caved-lips.html">a picture of infamous Lipgate 2011!</a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-84600620137780807602011-02-14T00:02:00.001-07:002011-02-14T00:04:46.645-07:00Happy Valentine's Day!!My freshman year in college, my roommate Ashley and I posted pictures of our guy friends on our dorm room door and asked passersby to vote for the hottest man for V-day. We got quite a big turnout. We had more than 200 votes and we had somewhere in the ballpark of 30 pictures. <br /><br />Well this Valentine's Day you only get one. See this Valentine's Day (and the days leading up to it) I've been thinking a lot about love and this person repeatedly entered my mind:<br /><br />My Mommy.<br />(I vowed I'd call her Mommy for the rest of my life. But when I got to high school and noticed it wasn't cool, I forced myself to say "Mom." I swear it took a year to transition.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdAAdOJpKRWQogEfzzXcSvnumL5u2jQ7CVPb04vDccsZO1LKnp9L2_ZaaaWSC5w3niaKbG12QYn5Av5wHi-8bObE3uv5sw64g2e0JRsHGX_TK-pgxO8XOc_QFU_IWXAfIvwt140kETmc/s1600/Mommy+and+Sara.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdAAdOJpKRWQogEfzzXcSvnumL5u2jQ7CVPb04vDccsZO1LKnp9L2_ZaaaWSC5w3niaKbG12QYn5Av5wHi-8bObE3uv5sw64g2e0JRsHGX_TK-pgxO8XOc_QFU_IWXAfIvwt140kETmc/s320/Mommy+and+Sara.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573436065464799826" /></a><br /><br />I've been thinking about my mom not only because of how much I love her but also because she was the first person to teach me love: what is love, how to love, who to love, and everything in between. <br /><br />My mom met my dad, got engaged, got married, gave birth to a special needs child, and was pregnant with her second all before she turned twenty. She wasn't planning on becoming a mother so young, but she was willing to give up her dreams and educational ambitions because of love. She loved my dad and she loved my oldest sister, Jenny, so she started her longest-running profession: stay-at-home mother and homemaker. <br /><br />For awhile, my mom took a lot of criticism for bearing any more children after having a special needs child, particularly from her mother-in-law. I could only imagine how discouraging that type of criticism would be to a 20-year old young newlywed mother. Why did she have more kids? I don't know everything, but I know that she loved and adored children. She loved family and wanted to add to hers.<br /><br />I am so grateful she did because, as child number 6, I would've had no chance at all of having her be my wonderful mother had she given up at 1...or 5 for that matter.<br /><br />I can relay countless expressions of love from my mom, but a better tribute would be one that people would actually read. So I'll list the highlights.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">My mom encouraged me in my talents</span><br />When I was 10, I was playing a bunch of Disney songs by ear. I wanted to take piano lessons so badly. My mom saw this determination and paid for me to take private lessons from that time until I graduated high school. When I was 11, the orchestra teachers came to my elementary school to recruit string players. I was fascinated by the violin. I asked my mother if I could play it. She not only allowed me to but also paid for private lessons up until high school as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">My mom encouraged me in my non-talents.</span><br />I was a natural performer from birth. I needed to be the center of attention. While perhaps some in my family tried to squash that need, my mom nourished it. For example, I would come up with synchronized swimming routines in the pool as a kid (by myself, mind you) or interpretive dances to REO Speedwagon songs. She would watch and also encourage others in the family to watch.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">She never left me. Ever.</span><br />Maybe this isn't healthy now, but I was sure grateful at the time. When I was sick, my mom would always feed me crackers and sprite, stay by my bedside, and rub my hair until I fell asleep. That's a long time! And she would do this all the time. Occasionally she would snuggle me in my bed. And I got very accustomed to afternoon cuddle naps with my mom in her bed (in Kindergarten we only had half-days so it was just me and her at home). <br /><br />I am a grown woman, and still to this day when I get pretty aggressively ill, the first words out of my mouth are a mindless groan, "Mo-oomm......"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Emotionally, she is wonder woman.</span><br />My mom is the most in-touch with her emotions as anyone else in this world. It was always OK to cry in front of her. It was always OK to feel anger, hurt, elation, giddiness, or any emotion. She never judged me for it or made me feel like it was unacceptable. She was just there for me in whatever capacity I needed her. She still is.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">She is so feminine and domestic.</span><br />My mom is such an example of what a Mormon housewife should be. She has lots of kids, she can cook, she can paint, she can sing, she can play the piano, she can sew. Oh man, and does she ever sew well. I can't even sew a button.<br /><br />The fact is, among all the things she has done for me, the best of all is that she loved me unconditionally, and in turn, I know how to love.<br /><br />And I love her!<br /><br />Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy!Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-48812917513710870642011-02-08T21:53:00.000-07:002011-02-08T22:01:08.505-07:00The Hard ChoicesGiven the choice between eating either almost ripe strawberries for the rest of my life or very ripe avocados, I would choose the avocados.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3509278912382435251.post-92054908514013292822011-01-31T13:08:00.000-07:002011-01-31T13:31:55.982-07:00Peer Pressure is the new blackAccomplishment of the day: Cartwheel on the balance beam.<br /><br />Brought to you by: Male peer pressure.<br /><br />Here's the thing. I've been working on a handstand on the high beam forever and ever. I still can't manage to get it perpendicular, but I'm not too worried about it because most my classmates are still only attempting it on the low beam (typical law student--measuring my own accomplishments by how well others are doing).<br /><br /><br />I should start by saying that after the women's gymnastics class at 9, there is a men's gymnastics class at 10. Our coach lets a few girls stay after and practice as long as it doesn't interfere with the dudes. Well dudes don't do the balance beam so I had it all to myself. Ok, so....<br /><br />I got bored trying and I asked the coach what other skills we would be required to finally complete on the balance beam by the end of the semester. Cartwheel? Optional. An advanced skill that we could include in our routine but didn't have to. <br /><br />So I decided that, to mix it up, I would alternate trying a cartwheel on the low beam and trying a handstand on the high beam. (PS--the low beam is not a competitive apparatus; it's just a practice apparatus that helps you feel more comfortable doing the skills on the regular beam). So I started doing cartwheels on the low beam. It's an accomplishment to not only attempt a cartwheel, but to actually land it and not fall off when on the low beam. So after completing it a couple times and getting pretty emphatic cheers from a couple dudes who were around and telling me there's no way they could do it, I decided to head over to the high beam and try a handstand. But the boys who were just watching me and cheering me on said, "Oh man, you're going to try it up there. That's crazy awesome." Or something like that. They thought I was going to do a cartwheel up there.<br /><br />So I couldn't disappoint the boys, right? So I got up on the scary high beam--not even able to do a 45 degree angle half-A handstand, and I attempted a cartwheel. Nope. Fell off. Tried again. Did it and landed it! Tried again. Nailed it again!<br /><br />Not to brag or anything, but I'm just kind of proud of myself for being able to do a hard skill that we won't even need by the end of the semester. Yeah whatever, I just need something to overcompensate for my incompetency on the uneven bars. <br /><br />In other news, I completed probably about 10 standing back handsprings (haven't been able to do those in almost ten years) and one round-off back handspring on the floor. Pretty happy about that, but now I've got killer bruises and my back is totally jacked.<br /><br />Success.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04719273333515848232noreply@blogger.com0