sad day.

i am les mis.  overnight, the cold traveled from my broken throat and settled squarely in the middle of my face - but, really, who didn't see that coming after i so recklessly proclaimed to the universe yesterday that i was gonna get away with just a sore throat.  curse you, jinx!

i'm sneezy and disgusting and i'm going through tissues like they're tater tots or m&ms, but at least i'm not achey anymore!  thank god for small miracles, i guess.

also, paranormal activity 2 did not come in the mail from netflix today and that is very upsetting.

nanny mcfree

this cold has stayed mainly in my throat and has done so much damage, it literally pains me to talk to anyone.  this is traumatic, considering my favorite thing of all is gabbing to any and all who will listen/are within ear shot and without escape routes.  therefore, expect many blog entries until this thing clears up, as i couldn't possibly keep all of this contained.

on monday night, i filled in as a last minute babysitter for a family i used to nanny for, way back in 2009.  i left the job in june of that year to start working at the preschool and hadn't seen the kids since (which is pretty reprehensible, because we all live in the same city and i absolutely loved them).  being a nanny is an interesting gig, because while working with children is by far one of the most rewarding things i've ever done, working with children in their homes on a regular basis tends to get a little out of my comfort zone.  eventually, the job becomes less about picking the kids up from school and entertaining them with my boundless enthusiasm and more about picking up dry cleaning and doing emergency grocery shopping.  there is no judgement in that statement, only regret, as i have learned both times i've nanny'd that managing my own life is difficult enough - i can't handle the responsibility of managing someone else's (especially when that someone else has two children and a massive house and a crazy schedule).  it becomes too much for me, until after a week of being too busy to buy groceries for my own house, i find myself at a restaurant supply store with a housekeeper who speaks only spanish, desperately trying to pantomime all the things on someone else's shopping list (do you have any idea how difficult it is to try to act out clorox bleach?).  those are the times i ask myself, "what is my life?"  i've been a nanny for two different families, and had two distinctly different experiences, and left those positions both times knowing it wasn't for me (at least not while in school/working a second job).

babysitting, though, is something else entirely.  i love babysitting.  i was blessed with a built-in charge when i was nine, in the form of my youngest brother, who i began watching by myself when i was about 11 or 12.  then, i ran my own very successful babysitters club all through high school (which is why i didn't get a legitimate paycheck cut in my name until i was almost 19 and already in college).  i've found that babysitting has become more fun as i've gotten older, perhaps because i'm more completely my own person and get to feel like the funky, weird older sibling/aunt.  also, kids have by the far the best senses of humor, and being as hilarious as i am, i enjoy that very much.

so, anyway, back to monday.  the son in this family is around eight (being just about six the last time i saw him, which was so long ago, i still can't believe it) and i spent most of the afternoon watching him as he attempted to do four underwater front flips in a row in the backyard pool ("sarah, i need bigger lungs," was his conclusion, when he absolutely could not break three in a row).  it was during this pool time that he told me all about the ghosts that he sees around the house.  he told really detailed stories about when they show up and what they look like and how no one in his family believes that he actually sees them.  then, he started to tell me about a magical pair of dice he has, dice that always roll the number he needs, as long as he wishes for it.  he said they were his grandpa's dice, and thinking that with all the talk of ghosts and magic and the unexplained, he might enjoy a little whimsy, i said, "well, maybe it's your grandpa rolling the dice, to help you out."

to which he replied, "sarah, i don't think so.  my grandpa's dead."

amazing.

whiny pants*

i have a cold.  this is annoying, but also helpful in explaining why i've been exhausted, sore, achey and miserable this week (school/life anxiety notwithstanding, of course).  luke got sick on monday, but because i was a whirling dervish of craze, i didn't really even think about dousing myself in hand sanitizer and overdosing on vitamin c and zinc, which is usually standard protocol for me if someone close to me (read: the husband) is even suspected of being ill.  in my overwhelmed delirium, i didn't even think about it and here i am, suffering while he gets better.  i'm mostly just super achey and have a crazy sore throat, so i think i'll live.  also, because i've worked all week and then gone to lab to study every day, i've given myself tonight and all day tomorrow to break from studying/stressing, so that i'll have some time to recoup before starting the shit storm again on monday.  it is what i call a "mental health break," which i suppose is a nicer, more polite way of saying, "i will lose my shit entirely if i don't have a day to laze around and run errands (such as getting a new pair of cheap sears optical glasses, as the puppy has successfully gnawed the stems off of both my current pairs.  i've been wearing wonky glasses for week)."

i have tomorrow morning off as well (and it's supposed to rain), so here's to sleeping in and drinking tea!



*at 5:45am monday through friday, i have a cup of coffee with the landfill's lead mechanic.  this in and of itself is supremely bizarre, because while everyone i know is still asleep, i'm becoming best friends with a man who has a daughter my age (or older?  i've never asked).  anyway, the point is that i've been a miserable mess this week and pre-6 am is probably when i'm at my worst.  therefore, while i apologize that i've briefly turned this blog into a weep-a-thon, begging for you all to play your tiny violins for me, you should probably just thank your lucky stars you don't have to share that first cup of coffee with me.

panic attack

lately, i've been really good at making plans and cancelling them.  i've been feeling pretty terrible about it, considering there are people i adore who i haven't seen in actual months and that's totally unacceptable.  however, it is now only wednesday and this week has kicked my ass so hard that i'm amazed i'm still showing up to work and school.  between working every weekday morning, filling as a babysitter monday night, having class tuesday and wednesday nights and the promise of full days in lab on thursdays, every second of every day is either already accounted for or becomes incredibly important spare time for sleeping or talking to luke for five seconds.  i don't think it would be as torturous if i didn't live so far from school, but as it is, even leaving my house at noon means contending with at least 45 minutes in traffic to get to campus.

i get that everyone is busy, so i also understand that perhaps my own personal busy-ness isn't impressive enough to be a valid excuse for why i'm mia while in school.  however, even if the plan was to go eat cupcakes with jude law in spain i'd probably be too exhausted to leave the couch (which is not to say, of course, that cupcakes and celebrities are more important than the real people in my life).

a lot of the anxiety that keeps me glued to my house is probably caused by the recent realization that i'm most likely repeating the same mistake i made as an undergraduate: namely, i'm getting a degree in something super obscure, therefore dooming myself to the same post-graduation misery i experienced after college, only times ten thousand because i'll be five years older and even less employable.  why didn't i just go to business school?  at least then, after completing my imprisonment, i'd be able to secure a job as the chief operating officer of coordinating bullshit job titles i'm 24 and don't understand.  i'm considering getting a simultaneous second master's degree in psychology so that i have some hope and when i tell people that they say, "oh, you career student!" which instantly makes me hate them.  i'm not a career student.  i'm just an idiot who didn't realize the only people who get employed with BAs are communications or economics majors.

i read yesterday that bristol palin got paid over $250,000 to pose with her son in some candies brand advertisements all about what a mistake teen pregnancy is.  if only i'd known at 17 that all i needed to make it in the world was to get john mccain to fall in lecherous love with my mother, i'd have done things differently.

even just typing that sentence, as a joke, pisses me off.  sarah palin's daughter made more money in a day than i'll make in the next five years by nationally flaunting proof that her mother's abstinence-only views are huge fails.  lovely.

lady sarah

i don't want to say something silly like, "i'm going to post something new every day," a) because i've said that many times before and b) it's always been a lie.  as difficult as it is to believe, there are some days in my life when there are no deep thoughts or ridiculous mishaps and therefore, i can never hold to my "posting every day" resolutions without feeling like i am faking it or forcing something.  however, i've been pa-ritty damn good about posting regularly and i'm kinda excited about that.

so, why today's post?  last night, luke and i went to my parents' house for dinner, as promised.  after only having been there for two minutes, i realized i am my mother.  this is by no means a bad thing.  i love my mom.  she's hilarious and snarky and probably a little bit evil, just like me.  also, she's a genius and an artist and super entertaining.  i don't mind the thought of becoming her.  however, when it's thrown in your face by something like this, it's a little intense:

that's a photo of my mom and i wearing the exact same nail polish.  college friends, remember that time in school when i couldn't wear something if it wasn't turquoise?  see!  it wasn't my fault.  i am genetically predisposed to bright (blue/green) colors!  

also, i realize this picture is super small (it's a cell phone photo), but if you look closely, you'll see my mom's craft table in the background.  she constantly thinks up new, insane projects, just like me.  her current brainchild?

the royal wedding invitation:

she found an image of the invitation in a magazine, made tons of copies and is currently in the process of addressing them (in calligraphy), mounting them to glittery backgrounds (as glitter is her drug of choice: she was wearing glitter eyeshadow last night) and then sealing them WITH WAX in a massive envelope.  she's inviting all the women in the family to watch the wedding at her house and everyone is thrilled.  

i absolutely love this.  i'm not particularly enthralled with the royal wedding and could probably live out the rest of my life never watching it/thinking about it again.  after all, what does the royal family do anymore, besides sit for portraits to be engraved on commemorative coins and turn up at polo matches?  (it may be, though, that i'm still a little bitter about not being the one marrying prince william.  you know, because every female born between 1982 and 1988 totally had a chance.)  however, now that "lady sarah" has been so formally invited to my mother's viewing party, with the promise of tea and biscuits, i'm all over it.  wills and kate, please!  

soft pretzels and hand cramps*

my inability to commit to a blog format is probably HUGELY indicative of how much trouble i'm having making decisions these days.  why oh why do i have so many choices?  this is definitely a "my diamond shoes are too tight" problem, but it's an issue nevertheless.

i chose this background almost entirely because luke deemed it "too insane."  i figured that suited me.  also, it's a picture of gigantic salted soft pretzels, which are essentially the stuff of my life.

aside from pondering the existential questions raised by my blog background unrest, i've spent most of the day writing out flash cards on muscles and their origins and insertions for my advanced osteology class.  i told myself that today, i would just make them and that the studying would begin in earnest perhaps tomorrow or next week (as we're not being tested on muscular anatomy for a few weeks anyway).  however, this afternoon was proof that there is absolutely no way to stare down the barrel of a gun (or, in this case, twenty pages of muscles and their functions, origins, insertions and innervations) without wanting to crap your pants.  thank god i'd already given myself clearance not to do anything but make the cards today.  i'd feel really bad about myself if i'd been rendered immobile by the insane amount of information i'm expected to know on a day when i was supposed to be actively learning it.

not happening right now.  instead, i'm finishing the cards and then going with luke and the dog to have din din with my parents and clay.  this is a very, very welcome distraction.


*upon review, that sounds pretty disgusting.  however, it's still a pretty valid description of my life at the moment, so i say, it stays!

dodger bluez

as much as i love tina fey and as much as i believe i am liz lemon, 30 rock has been a little hit or miss these days.  having worked on a comedy paper for two years, i definitely understand the tendency for inside jokes to creep into the script, but we were writing mostly for our own amusement and 30 rock is broadcast nationally.  therefore, i've been a smidge disappointed lately, because most of the shows now play like they're transcribed from a delirious conversation the crew had when they were up too late.  however, a few weeks ago, "tgs hates women" premiered and it was by far one of the best episodes i've seen in a long time.  briefest possible summary: liz contends with a female guest writer who acts like a baby hooker.  baby voice, short shorts, cleavage explosion, the works.  here they are juxtaposed:

on the left, you have me ALL THE TIME.  on the right, you have the sum total of all the girls sitting behind us at the dodger game last night.

oh, the dodger game.  it began as a way for my dad, luke and i to make use of some extra tickets to opening day and ended with the bottom of my bag covered in spilled beer and peanut shells kicked over by some girls in stiletto boots and my father getting drunken, uninvited back rubs from the shit-faced blondes who were probably far too old to be giving strangers giggly massages in public places.

i have been called a prude for thinking this way, but honestly, i think it's just really, really pathetically sad to be an adult woman prancing around like a breathing sex toy.  (in addition, it's also insanely uncomfortable to watch your dad try to fend off the clawing acrylic nails of a woman whose guy friends make jokes about her making your dad's night.)  i'm sure that sounds super judgmental and i apologize, but i can't handle it.  

i feel the same way about the link between girls and pink.  is there no other way to define yourself as a person/woman than to bleach your hair, get weekly spray tans, upspeak like a moron and teach your daughters that they can't possibly play soccer if the ball isn't pink?  (seriously.  why is a pink soccer ball necessary?)  a mother in the row in front of us bought each of her two kids a foam dodgers bat (something that, if given to my brother sam and i as children, would have been used to beat the crap out of siblings and friends).  for her son, she bought a blue and white bat.  for her daughter, a pink and white one.  the dodger team colors are blue and white and yet for some reason, it was more important for the girl identify with something pink than with something legitimately associated with the team.

i'm terrified of having girls.