Category Archives: Friends

It’s not an adventure if everything goes as planned

The tools I have can’t help me if I don’t use them.

My friend Tarina (Somethingina, as Frank calls her) came in from Texas last weekend, and we had a good, if short, visit. She arrived Thursday night, two days after returning from a week in Paris. A little palate cleansing before going back to work, if you will. After a quick tour of the house, she hit the sack pretty much right away on Thursday, jet-lagged as she was.

Friday morning I made bacon and eggs–with Falls Brand bacon, which we feed all of our guests, because yum. Then Tarina and I headed to Shoshone Falls, just east of Twin Falls. It’s a two hour drive, and we had six or seven hours before we had to be back to pick Frank up and head to Horseshoe Bend to catch the Thunder Mountain Railroad at seven p.m. We were in no rush, as we had plenty of time, so we had lunch at Chili’s in Twin Falls, and when we left there, we checked the clock. We had about an hour and a half to enjoy the falls.

Now.

When we’d exited the highway, there was a big brown tourist sign that said Shoshone Falls 8 (miles). And we’d gone about three when we’d stopped at Chili’s. So we got back on the main drag and kept going, watching out for more of the brown tourist signs. There was a big intersection with forks heading off in several directions, and I chose to turn left. I immediately decided that was a wrong turn and turned back around so I would have been going straight had I not turned. Okay, fine. But we started to get away from town, and I just had a feeling that we were still going in the wrong direction. So we stopped to ask for directions to Shoshone Falls.

Do not stop in Twin Falls and ask for directions.

So we walked into this grocery store, and there was a guy getting a DVD from the Red Box. I asked him for directions to the falls, and he gave us vague directions and basically told us to go in the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go. I was okay with following his directions for a little while, as he had put us on a road that would take us east of town, and I remembered that the falls were three miles east. But then we passed the three-mile point. Tarina pulled a map out of the map pocket and tried to figure out where we were, but the map of Twin Falls did not go as far out as we had. When the road turned south, I decided to call shenanigans on this guy’s fabulous instructions and turned around.

On the way back to Twin, we saw a sign–Twin Falls 12. Seriously, twelve miles? So we noted the odometer, and nine miles later we were looking for any sign of Falls Lane or Boulevard or whatever it’s called, because that’s the street we’d been hunting for. No sign. Then we were back in town. We headed back north, and I pulled over at a Walgreens. I was going to ask for better directions this time, but I went ahead and checked our map of Twin Falls. I was now completely oriented and could see where we needed to go, which was basically the exact opposite of where our beneficent directions-giver had told us to go.

So we continued to go north, counting down the number of minutes we would have for looking at the falls, because we really needed to be gone by four o’clock to make it back for our train trip. We finally found Falls Lane (ahem, barely south of Chili’s) and headed east, and oh, by the way, it was now rush hour, and school was letting out, so we had school zones and all that.

We finally got to Shoshone Falls at three-fifty-three, which gave us a grand seven minutes to check out the falls. Oh, and I’d forgotten my camera. Tarina had hers, but I don’t have copies of her pictures yet, so all I can tell you is that everyone says that it’s prettiest in the spring, but we were both wowed by what it looks like in the fall. Absolutely stunning. There was a rainbow where one of the falls splashed into the river and everything, and I’ve never seen water as green as the river is there. I’m serious, the river at the bottom of Shoshone Falls is as green as the Caribbean is blue.

When we got out of the car at the falls, there was a couple standing next to their car, and the guy asked us, “Are you getting married today?”

I cocked my head. “Um, no. Not to each other.” After we walked off, we passed what was obviously a setup for a wedding, and we finally got why he was asking.

We stayed about fifteen minutes at the falls and then decided we needed to boogie out of there. We’d seen everything, so it’s really all the time we needed, but it would have been nice to have that hour and a half of cushion.

We raced home, trying to pick Frank up at six-twenty so we could be to Horseshoe Bend by seven. We got there at six-thirty, and when Frank jumped into the car, which was already racing out of the driveway (okay, not really, but close), we started telling him the story of our day.

After we told him the part about finally getting to the falls, he said, “The GPS wasn’t working?”

Blink.

I’d totally forgotten we had that.

To be concluded…

Happy birthday!

To my friend Elle. Life in Idaho is more fun with you here. (hint hint)

Splish splash, baby

Saturday evening, we went whitewater rafting on the Lower South Fork of the Payette River. First, let me give you some advice if you’re ever going whitewater rafting on a hot August day: go in the evening. It was beautiful on the river. The water was cold, but not too cold because of the time of day, there was a nice warm breeze between rapids, and the sun hid behind the mountains most of the time, so no sunburn.

We went with Cascade Raft and Kayak again. Last summer when we went, we did a full day, where most of the day is spent lazily floating the river with rapids spread out throughout the day, they feed you lunch, and you have a lot of time to sit and look at the scenery. That was fun. This time we did the half-day trip, which is three hours, and most of that is spent in rapids. I can only remember two or three spots where we had a lot of time for conversation and checking out the scenery.

We went with Laura (aka Elle) and her husband Jesse. The drive on the bus from Cascade was fun, because once we made the turn at Banks (a turn I missed, once upon a time, and will never miss again), we could see the whitewater we would soon be navigating. And, uhm, it was really white. Also funny, because there was a group of ten Asians going on this trip, and we all got up to look at the whitewater, and while my eyes were going huge with the knowledge of my impending doom, I suddenly heard a LOT of very high-pitched oohs, ahs, and things I didn’t understand. The Asians were very excited and also could not believe they were about to do something so intense. They were cute, because the guys were even louder with the scared noises than the girls.

We parked and got the big safety talk. What to do in a number of situations–it’s one of those talks that makes you want to crawl under the bus and cry for mommy. During the talk we learned that our safety kayaker (the kayak that stays with the rafts to help people who’ve gone overboard) was a guy named Andrew. I say guy, but what I mean is kid. He looked twelve. We later learned that he’s sixteen and an expert kayaker and can be your bestest friend if you’re the man overboard. A little scary to know that your life could very well be held in the hands of someone who can’t even buy cigarettes yet, but we watched him do his thing, and he knew what he was doing.

The four of us got our life jackets, helmets (!!!), and paddles, and then we got a guide and raft to ourselves, which was cool. We were the first raft to put in. The water was coooooold on our feet when we walked the raft in, and Kevin was like, “Don’t be shy, you’ll be getting a lot more than your feet wet.”

We had one or two Class II rapids first, if I recall correctly, and then we did the Class III Bronco Billy.

We’re making great faces in this picture.

I think between Bronco Billy and our next big rapid, Staircase, was when I did something I will never tell our theoretical children about. I rode the bull. It’s not kinky like it sounds. I got up on the front of the raft, threw my legs over the front, and held on for dear life while we went through a rapid. I think Class II, but maybe Class I. I held onto a carabiner (attached to the front by our guide, Kevin) and one of the ropes on the side of the boat. It was exhilarating and scary and had me in scream-giggles until I snarfed water. Even after that, it was fun fun fun. Sadly, no pictures of this event are available.

Our next big rapid was the Class IV Staircase, the signature rapid for the Lower South Fork of the Payette River. It’s a third of a mile long, and avid rafters from all over the states have either traveled to do this rapid or heard of the rapid at one time or another. And it lives up to the hype. When we saw it, before we were in it, Elle and I gave each other looks that said everything from, “Oh, crap. We’re all gonna die,” to “Who’s gonna take care of my cats when I’m gone?”

I love this picture of Frank and Jesse. I don’t know what happened to Elle, but you can see my paddle and my helmet there behind Jesse. Kevin’s gone, too.

I love this next picture for one reason: Seeing Frank take a wall of water right in the face.

Staircase was so. much. fun. When we were done, we had a big hi-paddle-five, whooped, hollered, all that. It was AWESOME.

After Staircase, we did Fake Slalom, which I think is a Class II or III–I think II, and then Slalom, which is a Class III or IV, I can’t remember which–I think IV. It has two big drops, and the rest is easy. But the drops are insane, and Jesse and I almost flew out of the raft at the same time, and I was grabbing for the rope across the middle of the raft. It’s crazy when you feel your butt come several inches off the raft, and your whole body starts to lurch. If you don’t have your feet set right and one wedged in the raft, you’re going for a swim. We all managed to stay in the raft.

One of us got caught on film not paddling! Shame shame!

Again with the faces. Elle’s kills me. She’s just so happy to be there, not working. Haha. And Frank is so determined to beat that rapid into submission. Either that, or he’s reaaaaally concentrating, looking for Aquaman.

We had one more rapid, right at the end where the South Fork meets the North Fork. The water is about twenty-five degrees warmer where they meet, and as soon as you go into the rapid, you feel like your feet are in a warm bath. This is where Elle decided she would ride the not-kinky bull. She enjoyed it, but instead of snarfing water like I did, she got slammed back into the boat by a rather rowdy wave. The guys were no-shows on the bull riding, because they’re sissies. ;-)

We had a great time. I’m in love with whitewater rafting and can’t wait to do it again when my sister’s here next week!

Weekend snippets

HAPPY GIRL: Hey, if we were rich, we could have a disco ball!
***

HAPPY GIRL: Daddy! Daddy! Smell my elbow!
CADET HAPPY: No.
HAPPY GIRL: No really! Smell my elbow! Really! It smells like cherry!
***

SARAHK [after getting off Jimmy Neutron's Atomic Collider]: Hey, Cadet. That ride felt like being in the car with you, except not as scary.
***

SARAHK: Cadet Happy is one of the worst drivers I’ve ever ridden with.
MRS. HAPPY: Yes, he is. I still usually let him drive, though, because he’s an even worse backseat driver.
SARAHK: I’m sure he is. But yesterday, I backseat drove the whole way.
MRS. HAPPY: I’m sure he *loved* that. And you know, the worst thing about his driving is that he’s so self-confident…
SARAHK: Arrogant.
MRS. HAPPY: Ok, arrogant. I was being diplomatic.
***

SARAHK: Um, you’re following so closely.
CADET: They shouldn’t be going so slow.
SARAHK: I shouldn’t be able to read license plates.
***

CADET: Do any of you want anything?
SARAHK: Oh, yes. Could you get me some sunflower seeds? Frito-Lay.
CADET [upon returning to the car and handing me three different brands of sunflower seeds]: They didn’t have Frito-Lay. I figure between all those, you can find some that are to your liking. [I did. Fisher brand.]
***

HAPPY GIRL: Wow, you *really* like those chips.
***

CADET: My driving is like a work of art.
SARAHK: Yeah. A Picasso.

Thanks!

Jennifer, thank you! We got your gift in the mail today. You’re totally awesome.

better than all the alternatives

Some days I’m amazed at how many diseases I researched before you, my dear readers, told me about celiac. I went through more than three years of doctors giving me band-aid drugs for my many symptoms while begging someone, just anyone, to try to connect the dots. The M.D.s didn’t connect the dots, so I spent so much time researching, blogging about my symptoms, digging around, and noticing my symptoms in other people. Oh, she’s been diagnosed with Lupus! It would be a horrible thing to have, but more than anything I just want a diagnosis! Please let it be Lupus. My symptoms are so similar. Yeah, Lupus was a big one for me.

Then there was Lyme disease. Hey, remember that one day when I had a painful burning rash from my ankles to my knees when we went to Epcot with the Pieras? It wasn’t a bullseye, but maybe, just maybe… it could be Lyme disease. That’s so much better than Lupus! Doesn’t require a lifetime of meds or anything!

At one point, I was convinced that I had lead poisoning. The house I’d lived in in Amarillo was old (really really old) with peeling paint on the walls, and the pipes had never been replaced. Maybe I’d been poisoned by showering in the water there. Or eating the peeling paint in my sleep. I could get intravenous chelation therapy or even look into oral chelation, and I’d be on the road to good health.

I think the saddest thing is that at one point, I actually prayed I would be diagnosed with MS. Those symptoms fit so well, especially when I started having the seizures in my hoo-hah. I did not want MS at all, but I really wanted any diagnosis, even if it meant injections and a degenerative nerve and muscle disease…

Every time someone asks me what I can and can’t eat (this happened at work today after we all ordered lunch from Goodwood Barbecue, and I had called and talked to the kitchen to be absolutely sure about what I could eat), I happily tell them. And I always assure them (after their looks of pity or *wow*) that it’s really not bad. I name for them all the things I can safely eat and emphasize that basically I have to be ultra-careful at restaurants and stay away from prepackaged foods. I tell them how wonderful it is to eat foods prepared from fresh vegetables, fruits, and herbs. How good the food tastes, especially the brown rice pasta and the fresh homemade bread. And I think of you. You and my blog and how thankful I am that I opened up and blogged about all of my insane symptoms. And how you helped me to start recovering.

Mwah. Y’all are the best.

touched

After worship Sunday morning (actually, we don’t get out until afternoon, because class is an hour, we have a half-hour break for greetings, etc., and then worship is about two hours), the congregation is having a potluck for us. A nice send-off. After they asked tonight if they could do this and we said yes, I started wondering how we would deal with that. I do not want to offend anyone by not eating most of the food, but I can’t afford to get sick on Sunday, or I’ll be out of commission all week. Can’t do that.

But I don’t think it will be a problem. The preacher’s wife came up and asked if there is any type of food I like in particular, and I grinned, got a little embarrassed and quiet, and told her that I love anything that doesn’t contain wheat or dairy (it’s more than that, but those are the main things). She said she was glad I reminded her (everyone there knows about my food intolerances), and I told her that they didn’t need to make a big deal, and I was sure I would be able to eat some of what people make. Then one of the older ladies (the same one who said to just pack up and go) asked what she could make us that I could eat. I told her I just can’t have wheat or dairy, and she said she could make me a cake. :-) “What you mean, you don’t eat no meat?! … It’s ok. I make lamb.” After I told her that I can’t eat cake (well, I can, but not standard cake) because it has flour in it, she said, “Well, what about a pie? No wait. You can’t eat that either.” I told her to please not worry about it and that I’ll make myself a gluten-free cake (I have a mix that I wouldn’t mind trying). Then yet another sister came up and asked what it is that I can’t eat, but before I could answer, she had already answered that I can’t have dairy or wheat. People nearby gasped at the prospect that there’s nothing good in the world I can eat. Hahaha. I told them about my homemade bread (there’s no need to tell them it’s from a mix) and that I eat pasta and blah blah blah, mainly just have to use alternative flours and stay away from most processed food and shop at the health food stores. One of the girls there knew a lot about gluten-free, so we got to talk about it for a few minutes.

Anyway, I think they all want to make sure we’re well taken care of and that I can eat at least a few things at the potluck. It was kinda touching.

i think he shops for me in the bargain bin at Thrift Town

Almost every year, I get a DVD for my birthday from the evil fake sarahk (my co-blogger at Snark Raving Mad). In the past I’ve received Swimming with Sharks and It’s Pat. He sends me movies he loves.

Well, this year, I stood by the mailbox day after day, just waiting for the mail lady to bring me a new DVD. *sniff* It never happened, and I finally gave up.

Yesterday, Frank brought in the mail, and there was one package, DVD-shaped. Addressed to Sarah Phleming. Hahahahahahaha. I could not stop laughing. One day, I’ll tell him that he spelled “phlegm” wrong, but whatever. At first I thought it was someone’s dumb error, and I was heartily amused. And then I saw the return address on the package and laughed even harder. I only know one person in Minnesota.

This year’s selection is a two-fer! It’s the Problem Child tantrum pack. Problem Child and Problem Child 2.

Oh, and it came with an apology for its lateness. Nice touch.

pretzel dropper

We were sitting outside in a courtyard at the KSC. The Pieras and Frank were eating french fries, and I was eating a Clif Nectar bar (dark chocolate raspberry, oh yes mmmm), gluten-free beef jerky, and gluten-free pretzels. I actually thought I would be eating fries with the others, because the Saturn V center’s snack bar has a dedicated fryer for their fries (at least they did last time we went), but Orbit (at the visitors’ center) fries breaded chicken in the same fryer. Boo. But I had brought large amounts of provisions just in case, so it didn’t matter. This is the life of an undiagnosed celiac.

Anyway, I couldn’t hold on to my pretzels. I would pull several out at a time and then drop at least one before my handful was in my belly. After the umpteenth drop…

FRANK J.: Quit dropping pretzels. You know, you’re dropping so many pretzels that I’m gonna start calling you Pretzel Dropper.
SARAHK: And I’m gonna call you Gluten-Eater, you… Gluten-Eater.
WrITeRSBlOCK [to SHERLOCK]: I’m gonna call you The Love of My Life.
SARAHK: That is so corny. [to FRANK] I’m gonna call them Stupid.

BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRNNNNNNN!

Letter from Hank and Martha

We got one a couple of weeks ago, and I have *got* to respond. I’m going to try snail mail, since Martha has now sent me two snail letters (including pictures of us on our cruise and at dinner when they came through here last year). In case y’all have no clue who Hank and Martha are, they are one of the two couples we ate dinner with on our honeymoon cruise. We had so much fun with them and really want to cruise with them again someday. The other couple was nice, but they didn’t talk much.

Anyway, they invited us on the cruise they have coming up this year. We would love to go, but with the move and all that, we’re going to have to wait until we’re settled in before we do any more cruises. Someday I want to rope them into doing an Alaskan cruise with us. And maybe Hawaii — Susan’s Hawaiian cruise looked like so much fun. And I’m pretty sure we’ve agreed more Caribbean cruises are in our future. Um, yeah, the Disney cruise was awesome. And so were our dinner mates.

so apparently, I can be tracked down

It does take some twisting of the rules, but Lynda, someone I grew up with (from the time I was five until her dad got transferred to Arkansas when I was nine) called me out of the blue today. I haven’t spoken to her in probably… twelve years? I last saw her sometime when I was eighteen, and I last spoke to her on the phone when I was nineteen. !!!

I answered the phone.

LYNDA: Is this Sarah?
SARAHK: Um… yes…
LYNDA: Did you used to be Sarah [K]?
SARAHK: Maybe… Who’s asking?
LYNDA: This is Lynda. [At this point, I needed no more information. I knew EXACTLY who this was.] Did you used to live on [my growing up street]?
SARAHK: Oh my goodness! I know you!
LYNDA: I tracked you down!
SARAHK: Yeah, and I’m not too easy to track down. How did you find me?

I’m not telling y’all how she found me.

We had a quick catching-up chat that ended all too quickly. But WOW!

I remember the way we met. We were living with my grandparents in the preacher’s house that the church provided my GrampaK, and she lived across the street with her older sister and younger brother (one week younger than me) — her youngest brother had not yet been born, he’s Sizzle’s age. So my brother (I think he was Lynda’s sister’s age) and I got bored. And apparently, Theresa, Lynda, and Wayne got bored. And somehow we ended up having a fight. Mud and ice. I am *not* kidding. Children are so dumb. Mud. And ICE! We were seriously running into the house, taking ice from the freezer, and coming out with trays of ice cubes to throw at each other. THROWING ICE CUBES AT EACH OTHER! After the battle, we went across the street and asked if they wanted to play. And we were all friends from then on.

Later we moved down the street, on the same side of the street as Lynda’s family. Lynda and I were the very best of friends. She was one year older than me, and I think Theresa was three years older?

Oh my goodness. I remember we used to call Time and Temperature all the time. 844-4444. Just to see what time it was. And how hot it was (even though we played inside and out all day long). And one day, we called 844-xxxx (I don’t remember the last numbers, but as long as you called 844-anything, you got Time and Temperature [sponsored by a bank, I don't remember which]). Well, when we called that day, it somehow ended up being a kind of phone chat-room. We were on there with a ton of perfect strangers, like a “party line.” Maybe that’s why I’m so into blogging and blog friends. Haha. We kept calling back, and all day, we got the party line. It was so much fun.

My sister and Lynda’s brother Bryan were born the same year (I guess two years after we met).

I remember her mom was from Bahh-ston. Or somewhere in Massachusetts anyway. Her dad, I don’t think so. And, as Lynda reminded me tonight, we had a HUGE crush on her Uncle Charlie. We weren’t even ten yet, so we had no idea it was bad to have a crush on your own uncle. HAAAAAAA.

I don’t know why, but I remember that they kept batteries in their fridge, and we kept my mom’s 35mm film in ours.

Oh, and one day, Theresa, my brother, Lynda, Wayne, and I all got into Lynda’s mom’s cigarettes (they were kept in the garage, and I still remember exactly what the garage looked like). It was my first experience. I was seven years old, and I had one puff on a cigarette. It was absolutely awful. I remember either her dad or her mom (maybe both) smoked Pall-Malls. The other… Winstons?

I remember clearly the day that Wayne (the brother my age) saw a lightning bug. He said, “Bug.” He reached out and grabbed it and promptly ate it. I kept watching his stomach to see if it would light up.

I cried so hard the day Lynda’s dad (who actually died of a heart attack before we spoke when I was nineteen, I think) got transferred to Arkansas with his job (he worked for a railroad, if I’m not mistaken). And when they drove off our street for the last time, I stood at the edge of their driveway waving at Lynda (who was waving back from the back seat of their car — I still remember exactly what it looked like) and cried as they turned onto the street next to our elementary school (it was on the corner).

Tonight, Lynda caught me up on her life and her family, and I caught her up on mine.

SARAHK: I always know what’s going on with my brother, but I really don’t talk to him that much.
LYNDA: Well, it’s no wonder.
SARAHK: It’s just that he can’t call me long-distance, and any time I call him, he can’t seem to get off the phone quick enough… so I don’t call him much either.
LYNDA: Well, he was so MEAN to us when we were growing up. So I’m not surprised.
SARAHK: Oh yeah, that. Well, he’s nicer now. Haha. Most of the time, anyway.
LYNDA: He used to do such mean things to us!
SARAHK: Yeah, he did. I guess he was the typical big brother. But he’s not so physically abusive anymore [he used to pin me down with his knees on my shoulders and smack me in the face for fun when Bikermommy wasn't home, if that gives you any idea].

It was so great to hear from her tonight. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, for some reason. Funny how that works.

Talk about your flood of memories.

hair

Talking to a friend at church…

SARAHK: Your hair looks awesome.
K: Oh. Thanks. It’s not mine.
SARAHK: [cracking up]
K: I’m for real!
SARAHK: I know you’re for real.
K: It’s a wig! I cut all my hair off. I’m starting over. I haven’t told anyone yet.
SARAHK: Well, I love it like that.
K: Yeah, it’s too hot. I wanted something different.
SARAHK: [grinning]

I mean, how do you respond when your friend says, yeah, this is a wig, not my hair.

i’m not so good with the ideas

But Jenn’s dad gets to come home from the hospital soon (yay!), and she needs ideas for a well gift. Go help her with ideas.

I don’t know anyone with a quirky sense of humor. Oh goodness. The peanut gallery over here suggested Mentos and Diet Coke (don’t worry, Jenn, I’ll beat him for you). We did learn on a Mythbusters rerun yesterday that they don’t actually explode the stomach, but Mr. Peanut Gallery said this right after I said, “No food.”

I told y’all he never listens to me.

i dream of bloggers

It’s not the first time it’s happened. It’s the first time I’ve dreamed about this particular blogger. I dreamed about the lovely Miss tracey last night. I don’t remember a whole lot about it. I do remember that she had called me to tell me some good news (I don’t remember what the news was, but it had to do with being in youuu-tah right now). As one of those, “Oh, and how are you” things right before we were going to get off the phone, tracey asked how things are going with the house. “So? Any offers on the house yet?” And I broke down crying and told her the house isn’t on the market yet and basically unloaded on her.

Hahaha. Poor tracey. Then she said — readers of her site will LOVE that she said this in my dream — tracey said, “It’s ok, SarahK. Aunt Tee Tee is here for you. You let it all out.”

And then I woke up, laughed, and read some Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

It’s actually a little like a phone call I had with Essay last night. She called to tell me about a shopping victory she had, and as soon as we finished celebrating together, I completely vented to her about my sister’s situation and all the crap she’s going through. Essay was very understanding. And then at the end, I was like, “But congratulations on your shopping victory! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

Yikes. How people put up with me…

Serenity got the job!

Ok, so she first got the work-at-home-in-PJs project, and yesterday she got the call letting her know that she got the gator job! [profanity warning] Congratulations!

full day — friends, food, film, grocery store (ok, i tried to alliterate the whole thing)

Hey, guess what happened today? We were on time somewhere! Nine minutes early to the Piera house, actually. We went for food, movie, and grocery shopping with the Pieras and D (is he semi-anonymous too?). Hey, it’s way funner than it sounds. We told them we would be there at 2 p.m., and we arrived at 1:51 (for you mathematically inept, I did the math; I’m nice, right?). We were so proud. They were so shocked. “First time for everything.” Whatever, Snidey McSniderson.

We took a quick trip inside to see the water closet that wRitErsbLock recently remodeled. She’s right, the interweb pictures don’t do it justice. I finally told her this after I saw it in person. I thought it looked like a crypt online; it looks much friendlier in person — not at all like someone might shove you in it and nail it shut!

So first things second, we went to Chipotle (because first we stopped for actual first things — gasoline). Oh, wait. At the gas station, Frank said he would get out and pump the gas, and I said I would go ask wRitErsbLock where Chipotle was (still is). We quickly got sidetracked.

WRITERSBLOCK: How did this happen?
SARAHK: What?
WB [motioning wildly toward Frank]: How did you get him to do that? You were driving, and he is pumping the gas! [Sherlock] never pumps the gas!
SHERLOCK: I pump gas. Into my own car.
SARAHK: Oh. Frank always does that. It’s the man’s job. I didn’t even have to ask.
WB: She didn’t even have to ask!
SHERLOCK [examining wb's hands]: Yep. She’s got two.
SARAHK: So have I. But Frank’s got manners. And chivalry. Some things are just the man’s job. He opens my doors, too. [WB looking at sherlock in disdain, sherlock looking all snobbish about that.]
SHERLOCK: Nope. She’s perfectly capable.
D: You get mad at me if I do that for you.
WB: Yes, but [sherlock] is my husband!

Ok, so we went onto Chipotle. WB apparently took exception at the fact that I don’t drive like the crazy Florida drivers; I actually leave four or five cars’ lengths between the car in front of me and my own car. Call the Insanity Wagon, y’all! I forgot to ask if she also took exception to my pulling over for the emergency vehicle that wanted by. Picky, picky.

So here’s how stupid I am. I know that Chipotle is a safe place to eat, and we don’t have them here, and I can eat everything except the tortillas. So I was happily set to order my burrito bol. And I was being all smart. They wear gloves, right? I know that I’m sensitive to cross-contamination, so I asked the girl making the bol if she would please change her gloves before making my bol. She agreed right away, and I quickly added that I’m allergic to the tortillas, and she gave me a funny look, and I didn’t pursue or explain, I just moved on, carefully watching as she almost dredged the new gloves across the tortillas as she reached for my bol. I would have asked for even newer gloves, but she missed the tortillas by *that much*. Did I mention my stupidity? Ok, so girl #1 got my bol started, and after the rice and beans, she passed my bol along to girl #2. I blindly told girl #2 which salsas I would like, and please give me cheese and guacamole. Did I ask girl #2 to change her gloves? No. Didn’t even think about it until after grocery shopping several hours later when my stomach was rumbling full-steam, I had a migraine going, and I was having seizures. Then I thought back and realized that duh, I forgot about girl #2, and what does she do? She actually folds everyone’s burritos with her gloved fingers and gets the gloves all over those tortillas, and yes, she grabbed all my little cheeses with those same fingers. And another thing? I shouldn’t have even had the cheese, because I’m off cheese for another week. Good job, me. Everyone must change gloves, except the lady who only touches the bottom of my cup and my debit card. Duh. I was even really careful that when I washed my hands, I accidentally opened the bathroom door after without using a paper towel to open it, so I washed my hands again, not so much because I was freaked about the germs this time — my freaking about the gluten has far overpowered my freaking about the germs. I was worried someone didn’t wash their hands and had gluten on them and touched the door handle.

Brain. Fried.

When we were done eating, it was time to roll to the movies, in the same parking lot. Thank goodness, because parking was a beast. Probably because we were going to see Transformers, and there were a bunch of Deceptacons or Autobots there in disguise. I have no idea if I spelled those correctly, don’t care. On the way across the parking lot, or maybe this was at Chipotle when D got up to go get a drink or something. Don’t remember. Brain addled from gluten.

Alright. One time, a long time ago, I teased writersblock in an email or something. I don’t even remember the context, all I remember is that it was one sentence. “You know, you could invite us to do something with just y’all sometime.”

WRITERSBLOCK: So are you offended that D came with us?
SARAHK: What? No. Why would I be? [Note that when we made plans the other day to go to the movie, I always knew that D was going.]
WRITERSBLOCK: Well, you lectured me that one time about how we never invite youse guys to do anything with just us, how there are always other people.
SARAHK: What? When did I lecture you?
WRITERSBLOCK: You said that one time, “You could invite us to do something with just y’all sometime.”
SARAHK: Wait, wait, wait. So one sentence… one measly little sentence… that’s lecturing?
WB [laughing at her inane self]: Yes.
SARAHK: Ohhhhh. So much is becoming clear now!

Oh, believe you me, I let her have it, then and throughout the day. Verily, as she would say.

SARAHK: My, [writersblock], you’re looking thin. “SarahK is always lecturing me about my weight!”
WB: Yep, just another way for her to lecture me about gluten.
SARAHK: And when I asked the girl at Chipotle to change her gloves? I guess I was lecturing the poor girl about gluten!
WB: I had to listen to SarahK give a ten-minute lecture to the Chipotle girl about the evils of gluten!
SARAHK: Hey, those are cool shoes! “SarahK is always lecturing me about the shoes I wear.”
SARAHK: Hey, in college you must have had it really easy. You could get through a two-hour lecture in like two minutes!

Poor WB, she’s probably feeling lectured through the interwebz right now.

So then we went to see Transformers. It was more than meets the eye! For reals. I felt so dragged to the movie. Every time Frank has mentioned it, I’ve been thinking, yeah, whatever, it’ll get me a couple of chick flicks. Don’t get me wrong. You know how I love my dumb action flicks. But I wasn’t looking forward to a movie based on a cartoon robot show that I barely remember at all and am not sure I ever watched. I only even knew who Optimus Prime was because J.D. and Turk painted him on the Turks’ nursery wall in Scrubs. Anyway, I loved the movie. It was funny, I liked the plot, I liked the characters. It was PG-13, and I didn’t notice the language being too bad. I did notice a few words and was really surprised when I got home and looked it up that I missed a few (I’m not complaining that I missed them, I’m annoyed with myself). But for a three-hour movie to be as clean as it was is pretty rare these days. Actually, my biggest complaints? The cheesy Michael Bay scene at the end (was somewhat inevitable and which actually was a lot less cheesy than I would have expected had I remembered going in that this was a Michael Bay film) and… the action! I mean, the military action was great, the shooting was good, the driving was fun, but the robot cage matches were too hard to follow. With all the cinema tricks where you’re supposed to feel like you’re at the Chevy Show, and the part of the bot that just got torn off has rolled right over your head, OH NO! IS IT GONNA HIT YOU?! and closeups of the gigantic robot fists banging into each other… Well, I never could tell which battle I was watching, who was fighting whom, and which robot just got smashed. So the dumb action part of the dumb action flick wasn’t the best part. But overall, great movie, I’d pay another $9.50 to see it again in the theater. Yes. It was $9.50 for a matinee.

After the movie, we went to the Kwik-E-Mart. To turn left into the K-E-M, WB crossed a solid white line (illegal in Texas, I assume it’s also illegal here) with a Sheriff’s deputy in the next lane. I was not about to break the law right in front of the deputy, so I continued past the light and went past the Kwik-E-Mart and made a U-ey. I explained this to WB, the whole illegal activities in front of law officers thing. Not a big fan of illegal activities to begin with, mind you. But a single white line? I’m not gonna lie, I’ve crossed them before. Inside and outside the Kwik-E-Mart, WB and I ran around taking pictures of everything while sherlock, Frank, and D found their Homer supplies. Frank got a Squishee and a couple cans of Buzz Cola.

After the Kwik-E-Mart, we trekked waaaaay up to Winter Park to Whole Foods Market, because I had looked up online today whether Orlando has one, and Orlando has one. And I was determined. On the way there, WB crossed a single white line, and I moved over into the new lane behind her, but I waited until the line was dashed, however briefly, before I made my move. My phone rang, and Frank answered and put it on speaker.

WRITERSBLOCK: So you won’t cross a white line to turn left, but on I-4, you have no problem doing it?
SARAHK: First of all, I crossed when the line was dashed, not solid. It was solid, then dashed, then solid again. Second of all, there’s no Sheriff’s deputy sitting right next to me on I-4.
WB: Is this Park? [PROFANITY] This isn’t where I want to exit. I’m distracted by the pho–! *click* [this is where she hung up on me]
SARAHK: I don’t know why she doesn’t get the concept of dashed lines versus dotted and officer sitting there versus no officer sitting there.

She called me back again to tell me when we were approaching Whole Foods, and…
WRITERSBLOCK: [PROFANITY]
SARAHK: HEY! YO! JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT IN YOUR CAR DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T HEAR YOU THROUGH THE PHONE!
WB: Sorry. See you in a minute.

I wouldn’t even bring it up, because she did apologize, but I thought my line was decent enough to blog that part of the conversation.

We shopped. Frank yawned a lot. We shopped. WB, sherlock, and D looked bored. I was in gluten-free heaven. We spent over $100. I got so many different flours and gluten-free mixes that you either can’t get at Wild Oats here or is at least a dollar cheaper there. Plus more terra chips, a few other things, some organic pears and avocados. A couple of Larabars, which are the same price there as on Amazon, and a case is cheaper than Amazon. WB and I were impressed that they have a whole fridge of gluten-free baked goods. Oh! Also, I got 365-brand all-natural black cherry coke (and by coke, I mean caffeine free, color-free soda made with pure cane sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup) and the same brand, same yada yada ginger ale. Frank pointed at the giant wall-art wheat hanging near the ceiling on the high walls and asked if I’m offended by that. Well, if wheat weren’t so in the Bible or I were a liberal, yeah, I suppose I would be.

We finally left after long hugs and I miss yous and came home to a very bad dog who got a faceful of cat claws right away for her bad behavior. And yay me. I put away groceries and wrote this super-long post just for y’all… all with my mild migraine, regrowing nerve pain, annoying seizures, and NOT mild bloating.

Dudes. I’m not even proofreading this, though. Sorry.

welcome home, Richmond!

Richmond closed today… got keys and everything! She’s picked paint colors and everything, and now she gets to have fun like us (except without shuffling furniture and junk between rooms before painting — yay for painting a fresh house!).

Congratulations, girl!

ahem: not for you to see!

In an email conversation with Dave in Texas…[edited so the capitalization is consistent throughout]

SARAHK: BTW, we recorded ourselves doing karaoke the other night. Don’t freak when you see how fat I am. But as soon as we get the right firewire, we’re posting it.
DAVE IN TEXAS: Don’t fret about your body dear. It’s temporary. Lucky for us we don’t have to wear this skin forever. And I look forward to seeing it.
SARAHK: My body? Frank will be mad. Haha, just kidding. I know what you meant.
DAVE IN TEXAS: I did word that badly didn’t I?

Yes. Oh, and about that karaoke. We have to get a different firewire cord that will feed into one of our laptops, because the desktop is out of commission (busted monitor), but we did record a lot of songs the other night and will post them on the interwebs soon. Some of them are pretty good, some of them are pretty bad, and some of them are pretty funny. A list of songs:

  • My Heart Will Go On (me)
  • A surprise that I won’t even tell you, it’s too good (Frank)
  • I Am the Walrus (Frank)
  • A Broken Wing (me) (not very good)
  • Alone (me) (not very good)
  • Ring of Fire (Frank)
  • Magic Carpet Ride (Frank)
  • Angel (me) (this was my best one)
  • Amish Paradish (Frank)
  • Before Your Love (me)
  • outtakes

We definitely need to pick up some new karaoke CDs so I can stop singing the same songs over and over. We need Carrie Underwood, new Kelly Clarkson, more Heart, more Martina, more showtunes, “Jackson” by Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash. We need good duets.

u tro gontlit? i tro u gontlit in u fais!

Serenity has thrown her gauntlet* into the dog flamewar! She thinks she has a dog cat in this fight! Pfeh, I say, pfeh!

I will be getting back to you on this. I have to shower and get to Walmart before the moms and their screaming children on summertime Icy Pops get there, but believe you me. My dog, my cats, and my brains will smak u dooooooown! Not to mention Rachl Lukis!

*btw, there’s an image in that post, but i can’t see it when i click on the permalink. if you can’t see the image, make sure you click back to the main page so you see why my kittehs are so outraged. and read the comments the animals have left for Serenity the Kitteh!

pit iz hunger

Rowdi, NO! BAD DOG!

Well, you get what you pay for with the pit bull mixes from the pound, I guess. And by “what you pay for,” I mean MAXIMUM CUTENESS AT A DISCOUNT PRICE!

so i’m really stupid

ESSAY: So. Would you be willing to do a no-sugar challenge with me next week?
SARAHK: Define “no sugar.”
ESSAY: No refined sugar.
SARAHK: Oh. Yeah. Pretty much the only refined sugar I’ve been having when I’m gluten-free is the Bob’s gluten-free brownies. And sometimes ice cream. I can go a week without that stuff.
ESSAY: Really? I have to have at least some kind of junk food every day. Because this diet is so restrictive [she's wheat-free]. I’ve gotta have something. And there are looooots of wheat-free sweets I can have. You know. Icy Pops. M&Ms. Peanut M&Ms…
SARAHK: Peanut M&Ms don’t have wheat in them?
ESSAY: Uh-uh. They’ve never bothered me.
SARAHK: Huh. [I looked it up, she's right. They're gluten-free.] Anyway, I don’t know what it is, but when I’m gluten-free, I eat the Larabars and the Clif Nectar bars for sweet snacks [no refined sugar], and I eat a lot of fruit. So I just don’t crave a lot of other sweets. But I do love the gluten-free brownies. I can give up those and the ice cream for a week.
ESSAY: Really? It’ll be reeeeally hard for me.
SARAHK: Nah, you can do it.

So then I got home from my day of doctors and grocery shopping, which included two health food stores and Publix (Walmart was too crowded, because it was 5:00), and it turns out that I now have two Bob’s GF brownie mixes sitting in the cabinet (I used to buy sour cream every time I went to the store. I finally broke myself of that habit, and now it seems that I am in the habit of buying one bag of GF flour or starch–I think the only one I’m missing now is Flaxseed–and one bag of Bob’s GF brownies every time I go to the health food store.). I’m thinking I should make some tonight, and we should eat them all this weekend. To prepare for the no-refined-sugar challenge. And I should order a case or two of Larabars and Clif Nectar bars from Amazon. Because at the one health food store I shop, the fruit bars are so expensive, and at Wild Oats, they’re all sold out and about $.30 apiece more than Amazon anyway. And I get free shipping, because we’re Prime members.

Now that I’ve decided how easy this is gonna be, I hope essay wants to start on Monday and not Sunday.

Serenity: Part II

SARAHK: I was about to call you a liar. Then I changed my mind and decided to say that you and I have different perceptions of “hot” and “medium”.
SERENITY: This salsa is hot.
SARAHK: It’s definitely medium.
***

SERENITY [right after seeing a HeadOn commercial]: I was thinking about getting some of that HeadOn, but I don’t know how to use it.
***

SERENITY: Frank, you don’t care that Sarah just tried to kill me?
SARAHK: I don’t know what she’s complaining about. I have like fifty more pounds to carry than she does, and the gun. [So I'd momentarily forgotten about her shattered ankle and severely injured spine. I'm a retard who never claimed to be a good friend to anyone.]
SERENITY: I didn’t know we were gonna go climb Mount Everest.
SARAHK: Yeah, because Florida has any hills.
SERENITY: Ok, I didn’t know we were gonna hike to the other end of the state.
***

SARAHK [pointing to the mushrooms]: Do you eat fungus?
SERENITY: Yes, I eat mushrooms.
SARAHK: Good, I use those a lot when I cook.
SERENITY: But not when you put it that way. Do I eat fungus.
SARAHK: Well, I have a friend who won’t eat mushrooms because they’re fungus.
***

SARAHK[to Serenity after Serenity comes out of her room following a super-long SarahK-stupidity-induced nap]: Hey.
SERENITY: Mumble.
SARAHK: My head hurts.
SERENITY: Mumble.
SARAHK: Isn’t that the first thing you wanted to hear when you woke up? Great sentence structure.
SERENITY: I actually wish you would have knocked on my door and woken me to tell me that.
***

SARAHK [we've just finished rifling through all my new Chebe mixes]: Yeah, and I can use this bread mix to make my communion crackers for church. Because I can’t have the regular church crackers because they have wheat in them, I’ll have to make my own. But this package even has instructions for making crackers.
SERENITY [amused]: You have to bring in your own body of Christ?
SARAHK: Yep. I did it the three months I was gluten-free before.
FRANK J.: Yeah, and they were like “our Jesus isn’t good enough for you?”.
***

SERENITY: That’s one thing you’re gonna miss about Florida is all the birds.
SARAHK: Yeah, but Austin has bats.
SERENITY: Yeah, that’s better.
SARAHK: There’s a whole bridge that they live under. So we can get rabies there. You can’t get that in Florida.
***

SERENITY: We should cage ‘em more often, I agree with that. But not for the shark’s sake. But cage humans, yes.
SARAHK: Definitely.
SERENITY: Hippies and liberals to start.
***

SARAHK: Now what’s to keep that shark from jumping over the top and into the shark cage?
SERENITY: It’s more concerned with the food they’re tossing out in front of it. It’s not really paying attention to the human.
SARAHK: But that doesn’t answer my question of what keeps the shark from jumping into the cage.
MELANIE ON TV: Blah blah blah the shark isn’t looking to cause any trouble.
SERENITY: See?
SARAHK: Suuuuure. You tell yourself that when it’s eating your face.
***

SERENITY [after seeing me eye her funny for chopping her Neiman Marcus cake into tiny pieces]: It’s cooling.
SARAHK:
SERENITY: It’ll cool faster!
SARAHK: [I love messing with people.]
SERENITY: What?
SARAHK: You don’t have to answer to me.
SERENITY: I’m not answering to anybody. I’m just telling you.
SARAHK:
SERENITY:
SARAHK: It’s better in big bites.
SERENITY: I’m savoring.
***

SERENITY: Don’t blog that. I’m just not going to say anything tomorrow.
SARAHK [laughing]: Yes you are. And only the private stuff is private now, because you told people that I tried to kill you.
***

SERENITY [to Frank J.]: Have you ever noticed that when she [SarahK] gets aggravated, she gets really southern?
SARAHK [amused]: I know. I do, he tells me all the time.

We had been talking about crappy corporations such as AT&T and the Bank of the Northern Hemisphere. They are evil, by the way.
***

You know what Serenity says a lot? “Will you let me finish my story?” You’d think I was an interruptor or something.
***

We were at Publix shopping for foodstuffs, and I had picked up one of those super-wonderful Dole honey golden pineapples. The cashier started chatting to us about the pineapple, and Serenity and I were chatting back. I didn’t know at the time, but Serenity said that the dumb sacker girl (not dumb because she’s a sacker–dumb because she needs a smack upside the head) had said immediately upon hearing the cashier start chatting us up, “She’ll talk to you for hours.” What a brat. Serenity completely ignored her after hearing that. I might have said something. Because this is one of my very favorite cashiers, just one of the nicest ladies you will ever meet. She’s older, has grandchildren, loves to talk to me about the food I buy. Asks me about ingredients I’m buying, what I’m planning to make with them. I love food people. Anyway. At one point, I did get to zing the girl (she can’t be over 17) whose mama didn’t raise her to respect her elders. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but she said something about “Mexicans.” Mind you, this woman has some kind of Asian heritage, I can’t remember which, we’ve talked about it before. I think Chinese. She wasn’t saying anything negative, she just happened to mention Mexicans. Little Brat Sacker Girl said, “Why did they have to be Mexicans?” I just rolled my eyes and looked at her. “Because they’re from Mexico.”

Kids are stupid.
***

SERENITY: What’s this shooting game called?
FRANK J.: Call of Duty 3.
SERENITY: And are there people shooting back at me?
FRANK J.: Yeah.
SERENITY: Ah! Then they will die!
FRANK J.: Nazis, even.
SERENITY: Oh. Then they will really die.
***

SERENITY: Ok. Let’s shoot some Nazis.
***

uh oh

Serenity‘s been indoctWiinated.

She said she’s gonna write about it, so I’ll wait and let her tell you. But lemme just tell you… I don’t think we’re watching any more TV while she’s here.

Serenity: Part I

Serenity promised Tuesday night that she would call when she was leaving her house Wednesday morning. So Wednesday morning I got an email around 10:30 or so that said she would be leaving around 11:30. Cool. More time to clean. Still hadn’t vacuumed. Still haven’t vacuumed anything not called “the guest room.” Around 12:15, she called me.

SERENITY: Hey.
CELINE DION: You look at me and liiiiife comes frrrrooooooommmmm uh-yoooouuuuuuuuuu!
SARAHK: Hang on, lemme turn down the iPod. Ok. Hey, wha’sup?
SERENITY: I decided I’m not coming.
SARAHK: What?? Why?? [Oh no she di-ihnt. I'll go drag her butt up here.]
SERENITY: Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m getting on the freeway, and AGH! THESE PEOPLE ARE SO STUPID! THEY ARE THE WORLD’S WORST DRIVERS! Ok, that was totally illegal what I just did, and I did it right in front of a cop, but he did something illegal right before I did, so he doesn’t have anything on me.
SARAHK: I’m not sure that defense holds up in court.
SERENITY: Well, he got in the left turn lane to turn right. Hang on. [Throws phone somewhere, because there is much noise.] Ok, I’ve gotta go so I can turn onto the freeway. Google says it’ll take me two hours and fifty-five minutes, but that’s if you’re going 60, so I’ll be there in about two hours.

Umm. I’d always heard that Miami is a three-hour drive, so I had been expecting that I had three hours from time of phone call. It’s all about the procrastination.
***

SARAHK [reading and laughing]: You know how Rachel Lucas is doing the No Cussin’ Challenge until I’m off gluten, right? [profanity warning in link]
SERENITY: Yeah.
SARAHK: She’s having a really hard time.
SERENITY: I can imagine.
SARAHK: Me too. I mean, I’m watching you do it right here in living color.
SERENITY: Yeah, it’s not easy.
***

SERENITY [referring to long pauses between words while she thinks of replacement words to be nice to me]: Look, I’m doing my Captain Kirk thing.
SARAHK: You know, Serenity, my ears aren’t going to fall off if you slip and say a curse word in front of me. I really do appreciate the effort, though. You’re doing an awesome job.
SERENITY: Oh no. I’m not gonna slip. I’m gonna beat Rachel Lucas!

Hahahahaha. Go, girls! You can not cuss! Do it!
***

SERENITY [reading my blog]: I’m not a fish hater!
SARAHK: Yes you are. You’re a hater!
SERENITY: I like them fine. I just don’t like to eat them!
SARAHK: Mmmhmm. Fish hater.
***

SERENITY [as we're walking into church for Bible study]: Are they going to care that I’m here?
SARAHK:
SERENITY: What? I don’t know.
SARAHK [whispering]: We’re not Mormon.

Two things about that scene. One, I was whispering. Outside. With no one else around. Two, I have no idea if Mormons let people visit their congregations without special invitations. I was just trying to think of a secretive/culty-type religion quickly. Sue me.
***

BROTHER A (the preacher): I notice Sister Sarah has brought a guest with her tonight.
SARAHK: Yes, this is our friend [Gertrude], also named Serenity. She’s from Miami.
SERENITY [whispering]: Alrighty. Enough info.
SARAHK: She’s one of our internet friends. [I was smiling giddily saying this part, having not yet processed the "enough info" directive from Serenity. I LOVE to tell people that Frank and I met on the internet, and I love to say "internet friends." People always look at you funny if you say that. Even in these the aughts.]
SERENITY [whispering more urgently]: Ok, that’s enough.
BROTHER A [laughing along with a good portion of the congregation]: Ah, ok, internet friend. That reminds me of something, but I’ll talk to you [motioning to me] later about it, ok. [motioning to Frank] Brother Frank knows what I’m talking about. [motioning to Serenity] We’re very happy to have you with us.

So of course, when you’re sitting in the middle of church, and the preacher is laughing at you after you’ve told him you’ve brought your “internet friend,” which is one step up from “imaginary friend” in a lot of people’s minds, and then he says, “I’ll talk to you about it later, and your husband knows what I’m talking about”? Lemme just tell ya. Paranoia city. I was turning around to his wife like, “What’s he talking about?” “There is no tellin’ with him. Who knows?” And then I spotted Alcazar. Oh no! Maybe he googled Alcazar’s name and saw me blogging about his son and found my blog, and that’s always fun, having the preacher read your blog. So then Bible study was over, and there were a million hugs, and there was much chatting, because I have a medical test Friday (which is now today), and we had [Gertrude], and everyone wanted to meet [Gertrude]. And the preacher was in the lobby, and I was like where is he so I can ask him just what Brother Frank knows all about. Oh, and the whole time, Serenity was like, “Well, I know, but if you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you. I’ll let him tell you.” Like she and the preacher have some fantastical ESP thing going on. Whatever, dude!

So I finally found him in the lobby.

SARAHK: So. What is this you wanted to talk to me about?
BROTHER A [totally crackin up! again in that "white people are crazy" way]: Oh, nah, it’s nothing, I was just thinking about how you told me the story of how you and Frank met on the internet, that’s all.
SARAHK: Oh. Yes, well, it’s a great place to meet people. We meet most of our friends there.
BROTHER A: Oh yeah? Well… alright. [Nodding, grinning, almost giddy trying not to laugh at me. I think I'm an enigma to him.]
***

SARAHK: I’m definitely having the banana ice cream with toasted almonds all mixed in. And I for sure need at least a “love it” size. Because I do LOVE the banana ice cream.
SERENITY [noting that I have mentioned the banana ice cream for the eleventh time]: Hey Sarah. What do you think about the banana ice cream?
SARAHK: I love it. But you know what I don’t get about banana ice cream? Ok, bananas go bad if you put them in the fridge, right? Turn all nasty and black. So how do they make banana ice cream without the banana ice cream turning into black ice cream? I mean, how’s it yellow?
SERENITY:
SARAHK: It’s a good question, right? Yes, I’ll have a love-it sized banana ice cream with toasted almonds in a waffle cone.
SERENITY [to Frank]: Is she serious?
SARAHK: It’s a good question, though.
SERENITY: Artificial flavors.
SARAHK: No. It tastes way too good to be not real bananas.
***

Later in the car, I spontaneously just started back on the banana conversation.
SARAHK: I mean, I was thinking maybe bananas have a different reaction to freezing than they have to going in the fridge. Like it’s too cold in the fridge but not cold enough. You have to get them below a certain temperature to keep them from turning black? And if you freeze them quick enough, maybe they don’t have time to turn black. I like that better than artificial flavors.
***

SERENITY: I’m thirsty [or something to this effect, I don't remember what she said, and she wasn't hinting that she wanted me to get her a drink].
SARAHK: Well, you’ve been here longer than six hours, you know where the refrigerator is.

I’m the world’s greatest hostess.

Don’t listen to anything she says about me

Serenity has written about her first day-and-a-half here. I would just like to say, while I’m writing up my side of the story, that while I may be a big retard and extremely insensitive to other people, I have never tried to kill anyone on purpose.

By the way

Serenity arrived quite some time ago. We’ve been gabbing it up like good little girls. I forgot to let y’all know that she got here safely.

Anyway, I’ll blog more later. It’s already been funny and fun.

I absolutely cannot believe I’m drawing attention to this

Reasons I cannot believe it?
1) It is truly awful. Though I do have to give myself credit for acting chops I didn’t know I had. Those are real tears at the end I managed to drum up.
2) It’s a terrible song. The only reason we ever sing it is because we (usually) sound good on it, and I like the melody. Um, not this time.
3) I’m very careful not to post recent pictures of myself unless they somehow leave out my multiple chins, stomach fat rolls, and puffy arms. This video showcases all of that, and I was wearing a shirt that should have at least covered the fat rolls. It was loose on me when standing, so… I should just never ever sit down until I lose my gluten weight.
4) The only good part of the video is that Minerva manages to stick around for the whole thing and doesn’t slash our faces off and run away in protest.

Oh, and wRitErsbLock is not nearly as bad as we are. And she’s way better than Britney. I only wish we had “Stronger” by Britney in our karaoke list, because I can totally emulate the Mickey Mouse Britney voice for that song. But it does tend to make me want to put on zebra stripes and dance around a chair in the middle of a lightning storm, so the world is probably better off for it.

Ok, no more stalling.

company’s coming!

Tomorrow, actually! We two (she and I) just hatched this up in the last couple of hours.

Why, no, I’m not cleaning, why do you ask?

UPDATE: Ok, so we two didn’t hatch anything. I hauled her out of bed [profanity warning] for some lovely Brevard County thunderstorms.

essay made me snort by using my own phrase on me

SARAHK: Hey, I’m about to walk into Home Depot to buy paint, and you know how bad the cell phone signal gets in there. So I may lose you.
ESSAY: Right, right.
SARAHK: So if I ..art ..al..ing ..ike ..is, it means I’ve lost the signal. [I think I'm so funny sometimes.]
ESSAY: Ohhhhhh. Thaaaaaanks. Thanks for carrying the one for me. [She starts talking all slow, and I start laughing, guffawing really.] Really, Sarah, I don’t know what I would have done without you to help me along there. I mean, you’re such a saint to put up with such a stupid friend as me. [By now I'm crying, and I walk through the front door of Home Depot, just in time for...]
SARAHK: Oh that was lovely. I just walked into Home Depot, and there are like a hundred people standing just inside the door at the returns desk, and I just snorted. SNORTED. Right in front of all those people.
ESSAY: That is awesome.
SARAHK: No, what’s awesome is you calling me a saint. I can’t wait to tell everybody.
ESSAY: What?
SARAHK: THE… IMPORTANT… THING… IS… THAT… YOU… CALLED… ME… A SAINT! [So what if the old guy in the paint aisle looked at me like I was crazy? I'll probably never see him again anyway.]
ESSAY: Ok, you’re breaking up now.
SARAHK: O… KAY!
ESSAY: Ok, talk… to… you… later. [She wasn't committed to the bit like I was, or she would have yelled, too. And she was at home.]
SARAHK: Bye!
ESSAY: Bye.

I think I heard her call me a weirdo in the background as she was hanging up, but I couldn’t be sure.