Hitchcock

Hello, Halloween 2011, how are you?  Morbid?  Great.  Scary?  Naturally.  Suspenseful?  Probably not. 

Halloween needs to get cultured

I hate being scared, so I'm not a huge Halloween person.  BUT, I have THE MOVIE for you to watch tonight if you want to be on the edge of your seat and possibly never look out a window of your house EVER AGAIN without casting a suspicious glance at your neighbor. How have you never noticed that Mrs. Hatworth always used a sharp-tipped trowel when weeding her garden?  Why the sharp tip?  Is there a body in the basement?

Rear Window.  Directed by Alfred Hitchcock.  Hands down, his best movie and one of the greatest movies of all time. 

Not only is it in Technicolor!!!!!!, but it is a study in the Art of Suspense. 

The famous quote by Hitchock reveals his genius.  In short (because it is a loooong quote)  he says that Surprise and Suspense are two different things.  If two people are talking at a restaurant and suddenly a bomb goes off, THAT is Surprise. 

But, lets say the audience is in on a little secret.  The audience knows there is a bomb under the table!  They just don't know when it is going to go off. I'll let Alfred take it from here...

In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. 


I won't give everything away.  But let me tell you why you should hop onto Netflix or whatever Video On Demand service you have or drive 2 1/2 hours to your nearest actual Blockbuster store.

The movie is beyond thrilling, but it all takes place from this view:

The view from Jimmy Stewart's apartment window.  From this window, without getting all of the pieces, the points of view, the dialogue, etc. of all those apartments, we are, nevertheless, given a feast of plotlines to follow.  Some comical, some heart-warming, some achingly sad, and some very very suspicious.

Or, is Jimmy just paranoid?


The other reason to watch:

Grace Kelly.  The voice of beautiful, elegant, statuesque, lovely reason.  I sort of might have an unhealthy girl crush on her.

Her dresses alone are captivating.  She used to be a model and this movie is her cat walk.

Jimmy Stewart broke his leg, which sets up the entire movie and the reason he can only observe the world through his window. His world slowly shrinks to the courtyard of his apartment.

It also means that Grace Kelly has to come and visit to help him out and must sashay into the room every 10 or 15 minutes in another 50s era stunner of an ensemble.

I really love this woman.  This last picture is for free.

I once showed this movie to a guy friend of mine.  He was a total jock whose  typical Halloween movie included chain saws, gore, and zombie babies.  I've never seen a horror movie, but I know that the LAST thing I want to see is a zombie baby.

This guy sat through Rear Window quietly.  I thought he didn't like it.  But then, The Scene of all Scenes occurred.  Its the smallest, tiniest little bit of action.  You have to strain to see, and might have to rewind it once or twice.  But, when my guy realized it, he yelled, "NO!!!!" and threw his pillow at the TV. 

That's good film making, folks.  Do yourself a favor.  Get a little less scary and a little more suspenseful this Halloween.

Peril

I have alot of stories.  This has led to my belief that my life is secretly being taped for a sitcom, Truman Show-style.  I keep saying this, but I PROMISE I will post on that theory soon!

Meanwhile, I was listening to an interview the other day, and the host asked the guest, "Have you ever been in real danger?  Like, where you honestly thought you would die?"

It reminded me of a time when I actually did have a moment when I literally thought I was going to die.  Labor Day Weekend, 1997, camping with some friends.

I felt soooo cool because I had just finished my Freshman year of college, and my camping buddies were all "older kids".  You know, like, Juniors.


This one girl, we'll call her Karen, says that there are alot of cool caves near by that we can explore.  I've been to Mammoth caves and a couple other places like that, so I was all in.


We drive and drive.   We check in at this little shack in the middle of the woods.


"Karen," I ask, "why do we need to check in?"


"Oh, well, that way, if we are not back by the time the state park closes, they know to send a search and rescue party."


This should've been my first clue that this was NOT Mammoth Caves, there were NO tour guides, and probably NO flashing lights that were perfectly timed to patriotic music shining on the stalactites.


We find  a hill.  Around back of this hill in the woods, is a massive opening.  It was spectacular!   A real cave, like in the movies, where people hide when its raining!  There were tons of other folks exploring it, as well.  This wasn't so bad!


Clue Number Two...if your life is secretly being taped for a sitcom and you think "This isn't so bad", its time to run away.


Then, Karen points me toward a wall of the cave.


"This is where we go in!" she says.


In?  Weren't we "in" already?  Oh no.  There was an opening...a crack...about two feet tall from the floor of the cave.  THAT was our way IN.


We had on normal clothes.  We had 3 flashlights between the two of us.  No extra batteries.


In we went!


At first everything was okay.  Once we army crawled in, we could stand up and walk.  And, how nice, there were arrows spray painted on the sides of the cave to point you toward some supposedly amazing cavern deep in the bowels of this thing.  Supposedly, I say, because we never got there.  dun dun duuuunnnnn.


Slowly, the walking became hunching over.  The hunching became crawling.  At this point, my pants were getting torn and I was pretty sure my knees were bleeding.  We had been in this cave a long time and I felt like the walls were closing in.


"That's strange," said Karen, "I'm not seeing the painted arrows anymore...huh..."


Within 2 minutes of Karen's discovery, my flashlight goes dead.  5 minutes after that, one of hers goes dead.  10 minutes after that, its apparent the last flashlight is not long for this world.  I begin to plead that we go back.  The only problem is that we didn't know where "back" was!

We had no choice but to keep going and hope we run into some other spelunkers.

It was a weird feeling.  My nerves were on over-drive.  I knew full well that I might not survive this.  I had super human senses at that point, as my survival instincts took over.  But, instead of absolutely panicking, I just got very very VERY concentrated.  I don't remember crying, I don't even remember thinking, "We're gonna die!", I just remember being singularly focused on surviving.

At this point, crawling was impossible.  The ceiling was so low that we could only roll.  Bats were fluttering right past my face.  We rolled and rolled.  Our single, pencil-sized flashlight, trying to stay alive with all its little heart.

Then, panic actually set in.

"KAREN!" I yelled, "WHAT IS THAT?!?"

Way ahead in the darkness, a green, glowing thing was coming toward us.  It looked like it was floating, and its movements were completely sporadic...except for the fact that it was steadily approaching.

Karen didn't know what it was either.  It was completely, deadly quiet.  Oppressively quiet.  And in that heavy silence, this floating, glowing green thing kept coming.  We couldn't roll away from it, we had to just sit there and wait for it.

I'll never forget the first sound I heard.

It was a panting sound.  And...I thought it might be coming from the Green Thing. 

The dark was so...dark...that you couldn't see until something was right up in your face.

Here we were, completely panicked, watching the Green Thing slowly come to kill us, when all of a sudden, a dog appears, out of nowhere, just 12 inches from my face!  A DOG!!!  And it had a green glow stick attached to its collar!!!

We could not have been more grateful or thrilled if the Coast Guard had arrived!!!  We cried, we laughed, we talked to the dog like it was Lassie.

"Please! Bring us back to your owners!"  "Go find your owners puppy, go!!!"

And it did!  Those poor people got quite a scare.  They were on a trail in the cave...a well lit, 8 foot tall trail, laughing and chatting...when we suddenly come rolling out of a crack in the earth, dirty, sweaty, crying, and bloody.  A-PAR-RENT-LY...Karen had pushed me into the wrong CRACK to start our journey!!!   We were essentially spelunking blind in there!

We breathed the fresh air, got instructions on how to get back, and walked out of that stinking cave new women.  Women who loved the sun, noticed the leaves on the trees, never realized how pretty birds sounded when they chirped.

Our quick jaunt into the cave was not actually quick.  We got back to Karen's car only to realize that we had been lost in there for over 6 hours.

I came away from that experience feeling grateful to be alive and with a new-found phobia of small enclosed spaces.  Thanks, Karen.

But, it makes for a great story!  And a killer season finale on whatever channel  is airing my life.

Cute in an Evil Way

I am a despicable human being.  Let me just lead off with that.

Let me also state, for the record, that I am a HUGE fan of capitalistic democracies, the Constitution, all of our Presidents (except for 4 of them...they know what they did), and that I think America is awesome wrapped in lovely, and sprinkled with a healthy helping of terrific.

SO.

I was minding my own business last Thursday, working out on the treadmill at the gym, when...NEWSFLASH!...Moammar Gadhafi is captured and killed!  It was spell binding to watch the events unfold.  At one point, they did a photo montage of Moammar's life.  And that's when it happened.  I didn't mean to think it, it just HAPPENED.  They showed this picture:

 

And my first thought was, "Oh!  He was kind of cute!" 

 

I thought this about a mass-murdering, airplane-bombing, ruthless dictator.

 

And...this wasn't the first time that has happened...

I also was shocked to find out that the Iranian President who, rumor has it, has a nuclear-sized vendetta against the free world, looks like this:

 

I mean...right?  Kinda cute!

There are two lessons here.  The first is that beauty...well, I wouldn't go THAT far...cuteness is only skin deep.   The second is that Evil-ness causes wrinkles and bloating.  Right, Moammar?

I feel wretchedly horrible for thinking evil-masterminds are cute.  In fact, it was with great trepidation that I googled an image of Osama bin Laden in his younger years.  Thank GOODNESS he looked like a simpering turd even back then!  Phew.  Our last 25 Presidents have been way cuter...USA! USA!

But, on a crazy scale of 1 to10 (1 being the women who seem to flock to Charlie Sheen, 10 being the women who fall in love with serial killers on death row and marry them), how crazy am I?  

I say I am a NEGATIVE 5 because I don't find these men ATTRACTIVE, nor do I want Ahmadinejad to ask me out on a date.  I just expect all nefarious megalomaniacs (I got sick of typing "evil" over and over) to look like this:

 

 

So, in summary, I feel awful.  And I also love America.  I ALSO hope someone gets all the Ahmadinejads and Jafars of the world before they do any more harm.    And, for the record, my husband does not need to worry that I will leave him for a anyone on the CIA's, the UN's, Scotland Yard's or INTERPOL's most wanted list.  I married "cute" and "good".

Things I Love, Part 3

I was a hopelessly bad dresser through college and the beginning of my professional life.  Any great moments of fashion brilliance were from casting a sideways glance at one of my gorgeous friends and trying to emulate her look without her realizing it.  I became an expert at the covert Old Navy clearance rack trip, getting cheap clothes that were MOSTLY like my friends' stuff but not enough to look like a psycho stalker room mate.

Thinking of my "business casual"-ware after college makes me shudder.  Lots of flare-legged kahkis with the kind of tops the girls on Friends wore...the kind that JUST showed a tiny bit of hip bone and mid-riff.

Just an every so slight lady-like sliver of abdomen.  Tres chic!

I hate to think of what showed from behind when I bent over in those low-rise pants!  Unfortunately, I think my look was heavy on the casual, light on the business, complete in its clueless-ness.

That all changed during a stroll through Pentagon City, a short walk from my apartment, when I met a lady.  A lady named Ann.  Last name Taylor.  Who lived in a Loft.  Wow, that's cheesy.

I really love Ann Taylor Loft, is what I'm trying to say.  I love actual Ann Taylor, but its way out of my price range.  I should take a moment to correct a misconception.  Loft is NOT the factory outlet for Ann Taylor!  Its the same, well-made clothing.  Just more casual.  They keep the prices down a bit, too, by trading tortoise shell buttons for plastic buttons, etc.  But, they maintain the same quality.

Soon after falling in love, I got a new job at a brilliant defense contracting company.  It was one of those Mary Tyler Moore, "you're going to make it after all", throw my hat up in the air, type situations.

GORGEOUS high rise!  7 story entry way with these new fangled things called flat screen TVs (the finest 2002 had to offer) that played CNN continually!  Secret clearance!  Cool badge that I had to swipe before being allowed into the holy of holies!  My own actual office! I was working with ex-military colonels, even generals, and suddenly I realized I needed to dress a little less like Friends and a little more like West Wing (again...2002).

So, I got a 2nd job...with my friend Ann:)  I cannot TELL you how awesome it was to get a paycheck from Ann Taylor Loft on Friday, turn right around and give it back, and walk out with an armful of clothing for 50% off the lowest price!  I felt like a millionaire just picking whatever I wanted!  And the difference it made in my attitude and the perception others had of me at work was almost instantaneous.  Right or wrong, clothes make the man.

Enough of the diary, here is why I love Ann Taylor:

Exhibit A - Silhouette

1.  The clothes are made to help women look good, not to make men think women look good.   Its about bringing out the confidence and elegance in a woman, without comprising her attractiveness or sexuality.  I can't stand the idea of dressing for a man, but I really enjoy looking good.  So, Ann Taylor fits my philosophy nicely.

2.  The clothes are less about letting it all hang out and more about silhouette.  I'm sounding like a prude, I get that.  But NOTHING beats a woman's silhouette.  Its a work of art, and it can be shown off with pride without looking desperately in need of all types of attention.  I wish more women focused on silhouette, not because of my holier than thou morals, but because its THE way to look beautiful and timeless. And it takes well-tailored, women-focused, clothing to make that happen.

3.  The design is classic.  My love affair with Ann Taylor is 10 years old.  Some pieces have come and gone, but my fully-lined, beautifully tailored suits, my cardigans, and most of my dresses have stood the test of time.  Sure, its not cheap like how I normally define cheap ($14.99 or less), BUT it is high value!

Exhibit B -  Well-tailored Power Suit

4.  They are well-made.  Shirts don't shrink.  Sleeves don't fray.  Elbows don't get worn out.  Pants are lined...which is important since ALL suit pants should be lined.  A suit is not that cheap rayon/polyester blend thing you pick up in the Junior's section at Kohls that shows your panties when you walk.  That last bit of opinion was for free.

Here's the other nice thing...each month Ann Taylor LOFT totally changes over their colors, textures, and fashions, so shop the 2nd half of the month to get the best deals while they are trying to get rid of  "October" to make way for "November".

Enjoy shopping and say hi to Ann for me!!!!  

I'm Bringing Fanny Back...

The other day, an extraordinarily disturbing thing happened to me.  I took my kids to the park.  I did NOT want to lug my purse around, so I took out the essentials...keys, iPhone, lip gloss.  Lip gloss fit into my pocket, but the phone seriously dragged the booty of my jeans down to the ground and the keys kept poking me in all sorts of inconvenient places.

That's when it happened.  I thought to myself, "My goodness.  I don't want to constantly fuss with my purse at the park, but I need to take stuff with me, BUT I need my hands free, AND it won't fit in my pocket!  I wish there was something else...something I could strap to me to make my life easier."

And then it hit me.  Sweet Mother of Versace, I've just re-invented the most reviled and mocked faux pas in fashion history...the Fanny Pack!!!!

Like the mighty Phoenix of lore...as well as Disco, Chia Pets, and Cher...is it possible that the fanny pack may arise from its own ashes to sore to even greater heights once again?

I hope not.  But, then, why did I think that horrible thought?  How did the Fanny Pack invade my psyche?  I did a little research and guess what I found...

Rihanna?  Is that you?  Wearing a Double Fanny Pack?  Its...happening...

Now calm down.  Maybe its not so bad!  I mean, we are used to those early 90s FPs.  You know, like the one this stud is wearing...

Ahhhhh, The Hulk!  You know what I love about this guy?   He's timeless.   But for the Home Depot carts in the background, this picture could be from 1989.  Howevs, I take issue with the unfortunate placement of his FP.  Its...hanging..."there".  I'm glad I'm not that cashier, having to watch him dig around for his credit card.

MY POINT BEING...that maybe with an updated twist, fanny packs could make an acceptable re-entrance into society.  For instance, this dapper little dude that my husband found while trying to find a leather bag on Ebay last night...

MMMMMMM, Hmmmmmmm!  That's hot.  Its leather, its got a svelte, classy design.  It could take a man from the office to a date with his best girl that evening.  I'm sensing a give awaaaaaaaayyyy!

Okay, maybe not.  Maybe, instead, my husband and I laid in bed and laughed until we cried at the thought of this fashion atrocity.  If for no other reason than a little comic relief, it might be nice to bring a little Fanny back, don't you think?

Drinking Problem

Hello, my name is Sara.  And I...well, I'm not an alcoholic.  But I DO have a drinking problem.  And, not THIS kind of drinking problem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pl4plPGRG8o

Tee hee.  Tee hee hee hee.  Ahhhhhhh, Airplane!  Such a good movie...

Wait, we were talking about something else.  Oh, right, my drinking problem.

I.LOVE.water.

I am thirsty all the time.  Is that some type of medical problem?  I have a glass of water by my bed, one that I tote around with me all day, one on the piano because a singer such as myself can NOT have dehydrated vocal chords, I've even gone outside and noticed that I've left glasses of water just propped up in the grass from where I set them down to play with the kids.  (My issues with picking up after myself will be in a different post...one vice at a time...baby steps)

I'm in a praise band at church.  I believe, with all my heart, that you cannot be a successful praise and worship leader without a completely humble, service-driven mindset.  Howevs, I also think that it would behoove everyone in the band to allow me to have an entourage.  Its just to carry my things, so it okay!  I routinely juggle a travel cup of chai latte to wake me up, a cup of water because of my issues, and then even a cup of Throat Coat tea if I have a sore throat.  That's alot to carry from the stage, to the office, to the back of the church, and up to the stage again!  Or maybe I just need a 85% recycled -paper- whatever- cup -caddy from Starbucks.  That would probably send a better message than 3 guys in sunglasses named Ozzie, J-Phat (short for Jehosophat. Its biblical. Look it up), and Fish.

Okay ONE MORE THING. You know that movie, Signs?  The little girl in the movie has cups of water all over the place.  She asks her Dad for a glass of water.  He says, "You've got some right there."  And, in her infinite wisdom, the little girl says, "It has dust in it."

YES, Little Girl from Signs!!!!  I get it.  I have cups of water every where but must always get a fresh glass because my other water "tastes old".  My husband things I'm crazy, but somewhere in Hollywood, a screenwriter has my same issues!  Maybe even M.Night Shyamalan himself!

M and I taste dead water

I could go on and on.  The one thing I despise about Disney World is that their fountain water "tastes like swamp".  My tap water in Michigan was brilliant, but the water in Fairfax, Va "tastes like a pool", which is far better than the water in West Palm Beach which "tastes like salt".  Such is my mania.  Speaking of which, I'm feeling thirsty...gotta go! 

Things I Love, Part 2

Its Friday!  Its Things I Love Day!!!!

I have a wonderful husband and two adorable children, aged 6 and 4.  Therefore, I could not mention "Things I Love" without dedicating a blog to my famil...wait, no...psh, where did THAT come from?

I meant Disney World.

My husband (the wonderful one) and I are dorks.  DORKS for Disney.   Holla back if you are, too!  Holla back if you aren't and can't see what the fuss is about and I will totally convince you otherwise.

A boring blogger would go on and on about the magic and the movies and the mouse and the...(m)alliteration that it inspires, but not here.  I will, instead, regale you in one of my favorite literary forms.  The List.

ahem

I love Disney (and you should, too) for the following reasons:

1.  You pay alot of money and not a single employee in that park takes that fact for granted.  EVERYONE is at their best.  The "textile services" folks (aka maids) are as friendly as the people who take your hand and lead you to Cinderella for a hug and a picture.  The guy helping you into the ride is just as much in character as the guy playing Aladdin in a parade.  The ever-lovin trash sweeper acts as honored to be working there as Minnie Mouse...although he probably talks more.  Its hard to plunk down that much money for a trip, but Disney truly lets you escape.  Which leads me to my next point..

2.  Disney rewards you for having an imagination.  I used to be able to play Barbies for hours.  Now, I sit there with my doll while my daughter makes up stories, and I got nothin'.  It pains me to realize that a part of of brain and my childhood has died.  You step into Disney, and its like you have stepped into imagination heaven!  Roy and Walt Disney were geniuses at awakening the imagination.  Every building, sign, smell, sound, food item, costume, etc., etc., etc. is there to separate your brain from the outside world and  let it spend a day with your long lost 7-year-old fantasies.   Did you know the park itself is constructed like a movie?  The path into the park has fake movie posters...like the previews you see in a theater.  Main Street, if you look closely, has names on all its top windows.  These are the "credits" that roll announcing who created this theme park/motion picture. The Castle sets the stage for the 'plots" which are the different parks.  In fact, each ride, if you notice, has a complete storyline built in.

3.  You cannot help but feel special, unique, and appreciated for who you are.  We have yet to go to Disney where something one-of-a-kind did not happen to make us feel like the only people in the park.  One time, my daughter got to have a makeover at Bibbity Bobbity Boutique.  We couldn't get in until 6pm, so her princess 'do was not noticed very much in the twilight hours.  My daughter made the best of it and felt very pretty.  At the end of the day, we hit up Its A Small World.  The worker looked at my daughter, ran back to her podium and came back with a book/pen. "Oh!  You look so pretty!  Would you sign my autograph book?"  My little girl...who had collected signatures all day from princesses...well, her eyes just lit up.  She was beaming.  Those Disney people are good :)  This isn't even the best story.  More posts to come!

4.  Disney will go out of their way...to the point of sometimes obvious inconvenience to themselves...to make your child with a special need feel like a rock star.  My children to not have a disability.  But my niece does.  THIS is why I am loyal to Disney until the day I die.  I watch my sister, her husband, and their kids fight to tell the world that their daughter with Down Syndrome is a beautiful, capable human being.  This is a daily reality for any family in their situation.  Disney is aware that my sister's family has chosen to spend their time and money in Disney World.  They will not stand for that daily struggle in their parks.  Its like they have some type of secret "special needs" radar.  Every parade...the characters come and shake my niece's hand.  TWICE, while standing in a line of several people to meet a group of princesses, someone has picked my sister's family to meet in a room for a private chat with Cinderella, Belle, and Aurora.  My favorite is when they were watching the Lion King show in Animal Kingdom.  The characters invite kids up to dance on the stage.  A zebra asked my niece to come up.  My sister said, "Um, she can't walk yet!"...a sad issue at the time since my niece was at least 6 months behind other kids.  That bless-ed zebra took the stroller...diaper bags swinging from the handles and all...and made SURE that NOTHING kept my niece from having her turn in the spotlight.

I'm literally a little bit in tears right now.  That's another thing you can expect at Disney that you can't get anywhere else.  Lots of "moments".  Moments where you are smiling but wiping a tiny tear away because you are touched by a kindness.  Moments where your child is in heaven and you make eye contact with your spouse as a way of saying, "This is worth it".

This is long and wordy for my blog....sorry!  But I. LOVE. Disney.  If you wanna go, but have questions.  Just leave a comment.  Its WORTH the money and the planning.

Trending

Goodness gracious, I hate trends.

I was the girl who, in 5th grade, LOVED horses...until I realized that all 12 year olds loved horses, so I decided to hate them.

In 6th grade everyone loved New Kids On the Block.  I secretly had a crush on Jordan Knight...is that his name?  But then all the girls started sporting these monstrosities on their acid wash jean jackets:

I decided they did not have The Right Stuff.  (But, again, secretly, in my head Joey was all, "Please don't gooo giiiiiiirrrrrrrl!!!!")

Some trends I want to like.  Like the flouncy dresses that all the young pretty things are wearing:

Oh!  If only flounce was in style in 2001 when I was living in DC, unmarried, no kids, and a size 2 on my fat days!  Now, when I try those things on, I kind of look like this woman:

Sigh...if only I hadn't gained 10 pounds because I love eating an entire pan of brownies by myself my rib cage hadn't expanded due to having two children! 

I also can't help but admit that some trends stick.  For instance, my entire generation says "like" and "cool".  Can't be helped.  Someday, our Supreme Court Justices will say, "I know what you are trying to do here, but, like, I totally overrule you."  And the other Supreme Court Justice will shake her head and go, "Let the record show the defendant muttered 'not cool' under his breath!"

My new least favorite trend, though, is the word "ReThink".  EVERYTHING is being rethought, have you noticed???  We are to rethink fried chicken, how we mail our letters, church ministry, it never ends!  Its like how, in 2000, everything was Xtreme!  Or Xllent!!!  or X-rayed!!  That last one might actually be a thing, sorry. 

Can't we see that, in 2020, we will look back and go "Oh, yeah, remember when everything was "rethink"???  We were such dorks!  I wish we could go back and 'Unlogic' that!"  (Trend forecast!!)

Things I Love

Seeing as how Yankee Peach is averaging between 30 and 60 page views per day, I figure that puts me on par with Oprah, as far as global impact.

SO!  Today is my first in a series that will cause tsunami-like waves of change called, "Things I Love".

First up.  Chai Tea.  Or, actually, Chai Latte. 

I really don't like coffee.  I don't like the taste, but even with lots of things loaded in, it makes my stomach feel like I drank paint thinner.  No amount of caramel spiced macchiato whipped soy frappe syrup with sprinkles can hide the paint thinner affect. 

But I neeeeeeeeeeeeeed the caffeine soooooooo baaaaaaaaaaaaaaadly.

Then, my beautiful cousin, Jenny, suggested I try a Chai Latte..

Oh my goodness!!!  Its a beautiful thing.  Its like a spicey hot chocolate, minus the chocolate.  And its caffeinated, Lord bless it! 

I was instantly addicted.  No!  That's not true.  It was never an addiction.  It was an instant mutual affection that led to a lifelong commitment by both parties.  And the passion has not died, folks.

Well, for a little while there, "life" got in the way.  "Life" being that pesky husband who didn't like playing 3rd wheel to my Latte and paying (literally) heavily for it.  Those Chai's cost a fortune and I was getting 3-4 (or 5....or 7) a week!  I had to part ways.

Well, that same genius cousin who introduced me to my Love, also saved the relationship.  She had a box of Chai concentrate by Tazo in her cupboard.

"Wow," I said, "Must be nice to be able to afford that!  Its like 5 bucks in the store!"  (Have I ever mentioned that I sometimes say brazenly awkward things and that I am cheap?)

"Sara", said my super smart cousin who can do simple math for me when I need her to, "You spend $4 every time you get a chai at Starbucks, which you say you'll only do once a week but you always break down and get several times!  You'd be saving yourself tons of money!"

So, in truth, the actual Thing I Love is this:

This baby lasts me an entire week for $4. 

The directions are simple:

1.  Fill a microwaveable mug half full with milk
2.  Fill it the other half of the way with Tazo...maybe 1/4 of the way, depending on how strong you like it
3.  Microwave for 1 minute, 35 seconds...just trust me on that
4.  Stir
5.  Mentally detach yourself from the world around you as your mind achieves levels of nirvana not known since Ghandi ate his first grilled salmon after his 4 year fast, or however long he, um ...I don't know that much about Ghandi...but enjoy your chai!

Chai latte is a fantastic substitute for those who aren't 100% in love with coffee.  You get in a serving of calcium, its only 70 calories per serving, and apparently its Kosher...who knew?...and its the exact same stuff they use for the Chai's at Starbucks!

You can get the boxed Chai at fancy stores like Whole Foods OR at Kroger, Publix, and even Walmart in the coffee aisle.  OR, if you all look under your chairs you'll find a FREE box of CHAAAAAAAIIIIIIIII!!!!

Shoot.  That's not true.  Stupid Oprah.  Maybe when I get to 100 hits per day...

The Other Side

A couple days ago, I had had enough.

I was tired of the same ole Sara.  The Sara who followed the rules, towed the line, and never thought outside the box.  The Sara who let The Man rule her life, and other similar cliches that mean I was boring and probably a Republican according to Hollywood.

The Sara who parted her hair to the left.

But, a new day was dawning on the horizon and I needed a change to match my new journey....the journey to my daughter's elementary school to be the class Mystery Reader.

So, in a moment of total inspiration, I swished my flat, every day, line-towing hair over to the right side.

WOW!!!!

I was fabulously beautiful!  My hair looked like a brunette Jessica Rabbit!

As I strolled from the school parking lot to the building, I could feel the power of the Right Part.  Its like I could do anything!  Maybe I could contact a modeling agency.  Maybe I could do a documentary called "Right Part Like Me" and see how the other half lives...probably WAY better than those limited-minded Left Parters.

And there was music.  Not an angel choir from heaven (which totally did happen the first time I went to my hairstylist, Natalie), but like a funky tune that went something like this: 

Who's that girl?  Walking down the street!
She looks so fine, wow she can't be beat!
Her brunette hair with a groovy sexy part
Her name is Sara and now she owns my heart!
Its Sara!

But then, alas, I make the fatal blunder!  (Cue record player needle scratching)  The music stops.

I realize that, while listening to my new song in my head, I have tossed my hair back.  BUT I've tossed it back like a LEFT PARTER!!!!!  I can sense a big chunk of hair has moved back to the dark side. 

I'm self-conscious, insecure...wondering why everyone is looking at me.  Why is Ms. Karen the receptionist pointing and laughing????

I catch my reflection in a window, scoop the hair back into place, and deftly glance around to see if anyone noticed.  No...not really...

"Who's that girl?  Walking down the street!"

Yes!  Sara got her groove back!

Retro Peach - Mr. Sketch

My family and I were hanging out with some friends this weekend.  One of their daughters came up to me to show me a picture she had made.  Her big brown eyes staring up at me, seeking my approval like an adorable little puppy.  So cute....

But then I saw it.

A box in her left hand.

I quickly shoved the little girls' picture away and squealed, "Oh my goodness!  WHAT ARE THOSE?!?"

Do YOU want to know what those were?

MR. SKETCH  MARKERS!!!!!!

YES!!!!!

While the tenaciously persistent puppy girl sweetly asked again for me to look at her picture, I grabbed the box, tore open the top and did what every child did in the 80s.  I started sniffing.

Oh my.

Such smells!  Fruit Punch!  Lemon!  Blueberry!  Mint?  Meh....

But still!  I have not laid eyes or nose on these things since at least 1986!

Apparently, they are still widely available at Walmart, Staples, Office Max, etc.

I don't just love the smells, I love lining them up and looking at them.  I mean, come on!  How pretty!

They are like Skittles for your eyes!

Eventually, I did give the girl her markers back.  And by "give" I mean that she pleaded with me to the point where I suddenly realized that I was 33, she was 7, and that a Mr. Sketch fascination has its place in the world, but only when checked by a certain level of dignity.

Fast forward to right now.  I'm posting this blog and then Auntie Sara has a rendezvous with Mr. Sketch at my nearest Staples.