I’ve been wandering around in Sarahland and haven’t blogged lately. Don’t worry, though. I have a list.
Russell’s for Men
It’s a catalog that has been on the breakroom table for three months. Every time I sit down at the table, I find myself drawn to the catalog for this company that makes buffalo hide Bible covers, compasses that always point north and rugged, manly carry-ons. I am especially intrigued by the black globe that lights up at the touch of a button. So I think, "Russell’s for Men? More like Breaktime Mockalog for Sarah."
I love my job
A couple of weeks ago, I got a call at work from a man who wanted me to take a picture of his friend’s sweet potatoes. He said for about 30 years he had been helping senior citizens plant gardens. Imagine my surprise when I met the two and he was more senior than his senior citizen friend.
I took the friend’s picture with his prized produce on the sidewalk in front of our office. In a kind gesture, they gave me some vegetables of my very own.
With a sweet potato in one hand and a luffa gourd in the other, I walked back into the office and told my co-workers, "I love my job."
On Halloween, I reminisced about my own experiences trick-or-treating. I must have told the tap-dancing box story three times. We didn’t have fancy costumes and we certainly didn’t have fancy bags to put our candy in. Pillowcases usually did the trick.
One memorable Halloween, my brothers and I trick-or-treated out of a hotel room. Some parents might let traveling across the country get in the way of a "minor" holiday, but our parents were usually just as excited as we were about Halloween. It made the holiday just that much more special, and I think we were lucky to have parents like that.
Aunt Sarah the Sweet Tooth Fairy
You know I can’t let a blog entry go by without mentioning my amazing nephew and niece, and this entry is no exception.
The night before my mom was released from the hospital, I stayed in Boonville with Gerry and Cynda. In the morning, after Cynda had left for work and taken the kids to school, I left a bag of M&Ms under Lane and Emma’s pillows.
Lane found his several days later and Cynda found the bag under Emma’s pillow while making Emma’s bed. Cynda dubbed me the Sweet Tooth Fairy, momentarily confusing Lane. He offered to go to school and tell all his friends his Aunt Sarah was the Tooth Fairy, until Cynda explained.
[IN STAGE WHISPER] Babies…
Once again, I was standing in the hallway at the courthouse, minding my own business as well as someone else’s as I read a civil case. I heard someone approaching, mostly because of the creaky floors, but as he got closer, I could hear him whispering "babies" over and over. Terrified, I turned to meet my doom in the form of a natal herald and was met by a man holding a picture of a happy looking family.
"This is my son’s family," he whispered.
"Oh…" I said.
As my alarm kept going off Tuesday morning, I dreamt that I was at the polls and the alarm I was hearing indicated my alloted time for contemplating each candidate and issue had ended.
This morning, I dreamt my co-worker Amanda hit a Nigerian man with her car.
Your middle name is Dewayne
It suits you.
Excerpts from my journal
Can I just say I’d prefer not to hear the word ‘vaginally’ at a senior fund tax board meeting? Should I even have to request this?
How to eat those tiny cupcakes without inhaling them: I have no answer for this.
Should I be concerned when my tiny cupcakes are sweaty?