Category Archives: a-musing conversations


HE: Sweetie, you’re definitely looking thinner from behind.
ME: Thanks! You’re so sweet!
HE: But not from the front.

Such a charmer.

I think we may be the class clowns of birthing class

Ah, but what did you expect from us? We never take anything seriously. I mean, I guess we’ll have to once the baby comes, but until then, we are 100% silly.

Side note: There were seven couples in our class, and only two of us (including me) have had no Braxton-Hicks contractions. I wonder if that means Buttercup will be late. (Not necessarily, I know.)

During the “here’s a very disgusting video about labor” video…

ME: They’re showing us porn.
HE: Then it’s negative porn, because I am so not turned on right now.

HE: I’m supposed to be supportive and tell you you’re doing a great job. I think I’ll say, “You’re doing an okay job, but would you be open to some constructive criticism?”

The video tells us to note the color, odor, amount, and time if the water breaks. Frank says to me very seriously, “So make sure to carry a measuring cup around with you.” I’m a perfect lady, so naturally I mime sticking a cup between my legs and raising it for a toast.

Then there were the relaxation techniques.

ME: Don’t forget to watch my chest and count my breaths.
HE: [Straight-up OGLING of the girls.]

The instructor nurse later had us try to relax by visualizing something super relaxing while breathing deeply. I was doing okay with this, but the ogling already had me giggly. I was visualizing myself finishing hiking the Grand Canyon, getting back to the trailhead, smelling the dirt and grass and seeing the aspen trees… it was lovely. She was trying to make me go to a meadow and walk up a little hill and leave my stress at the top of the hill and look at dandelions, but I was only half-listening and hanging out at the Grand Canyon. And then she said, “The billowy clouds…” and my eyes flew open. I almost said, “Really?” I felt like I was at a hippie poetry reading. Frank, still ogling per the instructions, saw my eyes and leaned over and said, “You be sweet.” At which point I lost it. And I couldn’t even do the quiet laughing fit. I was like the kid who’s trying so hard not to laugh that she laughs almost as loud as if she’d just let it go.

Teacher didn’t like that so much and started telling everyone (2 or 3 couples started laughing when I did) that it may seem silly, but it really helps to visualize. Her face got all stern and stuff.

Then later when Frank was doing all these relaxation techniques on me (raining, hailing, fluffing me like a pillow, smoothing me like bedsheets), he kept whispering to me that I need to think of it like a power-up during a video game. “You know how you have to hold the wand straight up for three seconds to get your spell to charge enough in Harry Potter so it makes your opponent stay down longer? Breathe like that.” “I’m not visualizing video games.” “I’m just saying. Take your power from the earth. Like in a video game.” “No.”

There were many more jokes he made that I can’t remember, and I didn’t write them down. I do remember one thing he said on the way home. “When it’s time for you to push, I’m gonna say, ‘Let’s make this INfant an OUTfant.’”

If he can keep me laughing through labor, I think I can deal.


HE: Hey, those are *my* Doritos!
ME: You handed them to me!
HE: I did?
ME: Yes, I reached out for them, and you just handed them right to me.
HE: Wow, you must have me trained like Pavlov’s dog or something. I don’t even remember that.


ME: Will you still love me if I gain 60 pounds?
HE: No.
ME: What about 30?
HE: That’s pushing it.

FRIEND: I take fiber daily. Keeps the bowels moving.
ME: Yeah, I’ve heard that. Wouldn’t know, I’m pregnant. My bowels practically move backwards.

Recent snippets

ME: Do you want spaghetti or goulash?
HE: Spaghetti. I don’t know what goulash is, and I don’t like the sound of it.

HE: Bless you, Rowdi.
ME: You don’t have a soul, Rowdi.

ME: He’s a priest. He said hell.
HE: Priests say hell all the time.

ME: You shouldn’t call me Bad Sweetie when I have a gun in my hand.
HE: Threatening Sweetie.

I’m a very supportive wife

ME: If you ever murder someone, you need to tell me.
HE: Okay.
ME: So I can turn you in.

Bad Sweetie

FRANK J.: Don’t worry. The worst thing you can ever be is a bad sweetie. I don’t think you can be any worse than that.
SARAHK: The best thing you’ll ever deserve is a bad sweetie.

Ohhhhh! BUUURRRRNNNNN! Zoom zoom zoom, bazinga, and bam!

Sometimes I’m so awesome it hurts.


ME: I’m getting used to this Pepsi throwback. I’ll never like it, but I’m getting used to it.
HE: That’s kind of the way I feel about you.

Zoom zoom zoom!

Dorito nagging

Don’t just eat the Doritos all willy-nilly. It’s wrong.

You’re eating them willy-nilly! You stop that. You suck on that Dorito.

Here. You can eat this one willy-nilly.

Here. This one too.
Because it doesn’t have much salt. There’s no point to a Dorito without salt.


SARAHK: Do you want cheese on your potato?
SARAHK: Ok, you have to grate it yourself.
FRANK: Ok. [Goes to fridge.] Where’s the cheese?
SARAHK: [Looks.] Oh. I guess we don’t have any.

without context

HE: I hope your secret nickname for me is The Sexosaurus.
ME: No. I will not give you a dinosaur name. Dinosaurs are too controversial in our relationship.


ME: Ohhhhhhhh. I hurt soooooo bad.
HE: Do you need me to massage anything?
ME: Yes. My uterus, please.

self esteem

It’s high right now, lemme tell ya. Coworker, upon seeing my wedding album:

CW: This isn’t you.
SK: It is.
CW: No it isn’t.
SK: I know, because I’m fatter there, right?
CW: No, you look so much better there!
SK: No, I’m fatter there.
CW: No, you look so pretty. So girly!
SK: Too girly.
CW: It’s ok to say this, because I’m saying that you are pretty.
SK: That’s like saying I’m uglier now.
CW: Oh, that’s not what I mean. You look just as much beautiful now.

And the thing is, she doesn’t mean any of it to insult me. It’s how she is, just says exactly what’s on her mind. Always. She’s still one of my favorite people. I think it’s a cultural thing.


ME: I swear, Beethoven was a genius.
HE: Did you just say Beethoven was a genius? [laughing]
ME: Yeah. He was!
HE: That’s like saying Einstein was a genius.
ME: He was too.
HE: Carp are fish!
ME: They are!
HE: Beethoven composed music!
ME: He did!


ME: The Amazon deal of the day is really tempting me today.
HE: You buy that, and right after, he’ll release a new album.


FRANK: I like the show better when it’s moving.
SARAHK: I like your mouth better when it’s not.

Awwwww yeaaaaaaah.


88 YEAR OLD WOMAN: I love that baby so much. She’s so cute! I just want to squeeze her to death! [long pause] . . . I probably shouldn’t say that.

88YOW: Who’s that?
NURSE: I’ve come to get your vitals.
88YOW: Okay. Am I dead yet?

NURSE: What happened to your ear?
88YOW: Someone tried to take it right off.
88YOW: Yeah. Someone bit it.
88YOW: My boyfriend.
NURSE: Well, can I take your temperature in your other ear?
88YOW: No. I can only have one boyfriend at a time.


SARAHK: He still wants her?
FRANK: Yes. He’s still in love with her. And she’s still in love with him.
SARAHK: Yeah. I got that.
FRANK: She’s stupid.
SARAHK: Yep. Stupid.
FRANK: She reminds me of you.
SARAHK: Yep. I’m still in love with you.
FRANK: D’oh.


So I’m at the store last night, picking up some frozen food for Frank since I never have time to cook for him these days. I grab some GF hamburger buns while I’m there, too, and all of my freezer food is GF, of course. GF pizza, etc. (Also another new purse, because I hated my giant purse so much that I couldn’t deal. But the purse has nothing to do with the story.)

So I get to the checkout.

CHECKER GUY: I miss gluten.
SARAHK: Me too. [What? I really don't, except when I don't feel like cooking or have time for it, because that's when I want only one thing: $1 Totino's pizzas.]
CG: My girlfriend’s celiac.
SARAHK: Me too.
CG: And I’m gluten-free with her, to be supportive.
SARAHK: My husband too. That’s really nice of you to support her that way. It makes it a lot easier.
CG: Well, it’s like you’re telling me I can’t have a beer after work but you’re going to sit there and drink one in front of me? That wouldn’t be nice. So the deal is, I don’t eat it in front of her. I can have it if I’m not with her, though.
SARAHK: [nods]
CG: And I don’t brag about the donuts I eat.
SARAHK: Except to me!

We laughed, and I took my purchases.

Weekend snippets

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

HAPPY GIRL: Daddy! Daddy! Smell my elbow!
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.

My poor sweetie

I went shopping after work, since I still have a job that could last two weeks, six months, or years. I went to Wal-Mart (forgot to get the thermal underwear, the specific reason I went to Wally World), Costco, and Fred Meyer. I came home and told Frank about the food I got for our trip.

SARAHK: I got a lot of snacks and food in case we get hungry and aren’t anywhere near a city. Even if we are near a city, we don’t know if it will be big enough to have food we can eat. So I got gluten-free crackers [Glutino -- they're good], goat cheese, smoked oysters, and cocktail sauce. I figured we could eat that if we got hungry…
SARAHK: I also got some sardines. I’ve never tried them before. I’ll probably hate them. They always look and smell gross to me.
FRANK J.: [Scrunching up his nose.] Did you get any normal food?

So then I told him about the fruit, chips and salsa, SPAM [I try not to eat pork, but during really busy weeks and travel, I'll eat it], beef Lil’ Smokies, summer sausage (I had to show it to him so he’d know what it was), trail mix, and roasted almonds. He was cheerier after that.

Of course, I’m thinking I’ll stick to the nitrite-free stuff. Lately I haven’t had so much trouble with nitrites, but I don’t like to bombard myself with them, because migraine scares me.

When I answer his puns correctly

FRANK: What do they call the capital of Germany when it’s really cold there?
SARAHK: Burrrrr-lin.
FRANK: [Giggle and pause.] No. The name doesn’t change when it’s cold.

He’s no help

I’m feeling all political and scoffy (in which I scoff at retarded celebrities — and by retarded, I mean unbelievably stupid), and I need an example.

SARAHK: What’s something that isn’t cool anymore?
FRANK: Um… pump-ups.
FRANK: You know, those shoes that you would pump and they’d air up.
SARAHK: How about something that was ever cool?

You look horrible

The total weight of the desk, in box, is 175 pounds, and the thing is going upstairs. So while Frank was running errands and whacking the weed jungle in the back yard, I took the desk out of the box, piece by piece, and took each piece upstairs. 400 pieces later, I’m fairly tired. I’m a wimp.

Frank came in from the weed jungle and noticed that I had emptied the box.

FRANK: Oh, you got some of the desk moved upstairs?
SARAHK: I got all of the desk moved upstairs. I’m tired.
FRANK: Yeah, I can tell. Your face looks… you look horrible.
SARAHK: Thanks!
FRANK: I mean… you probably put on eyeliner [I never ever wear eyeliner] or something, and it rubbed off or something?
SARAHK: No. [He walked toward me, studying my face. I noticed his transition-lensed glasses were still dark from being outside.]
FRANK: Oh. Maybe it’s just shadows or something. [Leaning in close.] Oh, yeah. There’s nothing on your face.
SARAHK: Maybe your glasses are still tinted from being outside. And YOU LOOK HORRIBLE! AND SO’S YOUR FACE!

He’s cruel to me.

snippets: the workplace

Elle and I have been on fire this week with the snarky comebacks and snappy remarks. I’ve forgotten most of it, but I do recall the ones I wrote down.

I was working in our accounting system yesterday, which is IE-based (now, there’s your problem). It gave me an expired page error message, and I shouted, “WHATEVS!” at it. I think it learned its lesson.

ELLE [regarding a transaction she was investigating]: This doesn’t make sense.
SARAHK: You don’t make sense.
ELLE: I do too make sense. I’m full of sense.
SARAHK: Yeah, well, I’m full of dollars.


Elle was working on something I gave her last Monday.

SARAHK: I gave you that like nine days ago!
ELLE: Well, not nine business days.

We found out today that effective immediately, we can wear jeans every day of the week. They sent out a mass email to the entire company, and Elle read hers first. “We can wear jeans every day now!” And then we heard loud cheers erupt from the finance department. Seriously, those people are crazy. They have wild lunchtime parties every now and then, music and everything. We are, of course, going shopping this weekend. Not the finance department and me. Elle and me. Elle and I, actually. So during her lunch, Elle was looking at the store websites to see what they all have this weekend (I’m not lying, she loves shopping).

ELLE: Wow, these jeans are $80, on sale for $39.50!
SARAHK: Holy cow.
ELLE: What, that they’re $39.50?
SARAHK: Yeah. That’s crazy.
ELLE: How much do you spend on jeans? $10?
ELLE: Well, you said $39.50 was crazy!
SARAHK: Twenty, thirty if they’re really good…
ELLE: $39.50 is not bad.
SARAHK: Are you planning to wear them to the Oscars? [I don't know where the Oscars came from in my wee brain, but there they were.]
ELLE: No, if I was planning to wear them to the Oscars, they’d be like $130.

Our staff accountant, whom I’ll call Emme, came by later and actually asked me if I’ll be switching to jeans. Well, sure, but not $39.50 jeans. It’s too bad for Frank, actually, because I haven’t spent our clothing budget for three months, and I was going to use some of it to buy new trashy lingerie. But now I need jeans.


I’ve put Before These Crowded Streets, Crash, and Some Devil on my iPod, because I haven’t listened to much DMB in far too long. So DDTW comes on, and I have to ask…

SARAHK: Did you ever listen to Dave Matthews Band?
ELLE: Yeah.
SARAHK: You’re cooler than I thought.

We LOLed. You did, too.

My superpower is the ability to talk too much.

So Friday was payday, yay for that, I like money. Well, to make it an extra-special payday, the COO came around and handed out the checks. He was wearing a suit, and we were all in jeans, because it was Friday. So he came in, handed Elle and me our paychecks, and started chatting us up — that was a little challenging, because the first thing we do when we get our checks (stubs, really) is open them up and see what we got paid. It’s like we’re both hoping that one day, we’ll open up our paychecks and find a candy surprise that no one told us we were getting. Anyway, we had to refrain from opening our stubs, because that would be rude.

SARAHK: Could you hold on a second, Mr. COO? I want to see how much I got paid. Is there a special treat inside? No? Oh… awkward.

Of course, I felt pretty conspicuous anyway, because my desk, the area around it, and the desk that used to belong to our intern T have little SarahK Paper Explosions all over them. I felt the need to explain, which was totally retarded.

SARAHK: Oh… um… hi… Thanks for the… pay… I hate for you to see my desk like this… I’m just… um… See, I’m still finishing the quarter end close, and we’re starting on month end, so I’m wrapping up [one of my entities] and also working on [another of my entities] and… Well, one of these days, I’m gonna get all this stuff filed, and… ok then.

He told me that hey, it looks like I just have a lot of stuff going on right now. Oh yes, lots of debits and credits.

So Mr. COO kinda just hung out in our office for a few minutes. What are you doing for the weekend, here’s what I’m doing, glad it’s Friday, yes, me too. And of course the most exciting thing I had planned for the weekend was watching the series finale of Buffy and season five of Angel, and who told the COO that she’s currently obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer? That’s right. Me.

COO: Really? That’s an old one, right? Is it even on anymore?
SARAHK: Oh no, it was cancelled, but we have the special box set on DVD, and next week we’ll be getting the comic books that continue the series…
COO: Wow.

I even managed to go on and tell him that I used to be obsessed with ALIAS and that I go through phases with my TV and on it went.

COO: So, Elle, what about you? Doing anything fun this weekend?

She was planning to do normal things like float the Boise River and go white water rafting. I hate her.

None taken!

So I’m sitting here at my desk at lunch, reading _Jon’s latest post. I’ve just finished the first sentence, and Elle (office mate, friend, and apparently someone who thinks I’m a total freak) is reading one of the gossip sites.

ELLE: I think it’s stupid that people make sex tapes.

[long pause, as I haven't even digested what she just said]

ELLE: No offense if you do.

This made me cackle.

SARAHK: You think I would DO THAT?

More cackle, this time from both of us.

She doesn’t. I think it was the long pause that threw her off. And for the record, I wouldn’t. Because if I know Frank, he’s the kind of guy who would sell that to TMZ the first time I forgot to put cheese on his salad. Ok, that sounded sexual and wasn’t intended that way. “Cheese on his salad” is innuendo for “cheese on his salad.” Anyway, my thunder thighs are not for being lookie-looed by the general public.

Roasted Garlic Potatoes

Ok, this one is super-easy and ready in about 30-45 minutes.

What you need:

*5 large red potatoes (with skins, they’re the healthiest part!)
*3 or 4 heaping Tbsp extra-virgin, unrefined coconut oil
*2 or 3 tsp extra-virgin, unrefined red palm oil
Note: You can use olive oil instead of coconut and palm if you prefer, but I’d use less of the olive oil. The reason I use the palm at all is for the olive oil flavor. But you have to use palm oil very sparingly, or the olivey flavor overpowers everything else. So I use mostly coconut with the palm thrown in for flavor. I wouldn’t use canola or another flavorless oil.
*2 to 4 cloves garlic to taste (I use 4), chopped roughly – not too small
*3 serrano peppers, cut up but not too small or they burn (optional)
*3 shallots (optional)
*Kosher salt to taste (remember if you normally cook with table salt, you will use less of the Kosher salt, because it’s more vibrant in flavor)
*Fresh ground or cracked black pepper to taste
*Any other spices you want to use — I used dried dill this week, and they were even yummier, but they are perfectly yummy with just the salt & pepper. Old Bay would probably be good, too. Basil. Chili powder. Curry. Whatevs.

What you do:

This is the part I never do the same: heating the oven. I can never remember whether to do 325 or 375, so lately I’ve just been setting it to 350. That works fine. I put about half of the coconut oil on the bottom of the baking dish (9×13-ish), and I don’t melt it first — that would just be one more dish to wash. Add the potatoes, garlic, serranos, shallots — I kind of layer. Potatoes, then the other stuff, then potatoes. Top with globs of the rest of the coconut oil & the palm oil (spread out the globs). Top with salt, pepper, and spices.

Pop the dish into the oven, and stir every five or ten minutes. Make sure you stir the stuff at the bottom of the dish, too, or the garlic and peppers like to stick and burn. Potatoes are done in 30-45 minutes. We like them plain or dipped in Maull’s BBQ sauce.

Oh. Funny story. The other night Frank was helping with dinner, and I had emailed him very specific instructions, because I was working late. I even said in the email, “When you open the oven to stir the potatoes, don’t stick your face right in it, because you’ll burn your face off. Open the oven, back off, and then move closer after a few seconds.” Our oven really hits you in the face if you open it while it’s on. So I got home and helped him get everything into the oven. Then I went to Wiirk Out (update on that tomorrow). While I was working out, I reminded him to stir the potatoes. This happened:

SARAHK: Did you burn your face off?
FRANK: Oven hot.
SARAHK: I told you.
FRANK: I didn’t hear you. Oven hot.
SARAHK: I told you in the email. You read the email, right?
FRANK: It was long.

He’s so cute.


Frank is doing his Wii Fit workout.

FRANK: My trainer has a full beard like he’s in ZZ Top now. I love that when Frank sees a full beard, his first thought is ZZ Top. I don’t know why, but it kills me.
SARAHK: Oh yeah?
FRANK: And a ponytail.
SARAHK: Hippie! Your trainer is a hippie! I think mine’s a lesbian. I mean, she keeps trying to flirt with me. “Great JOB!” when I only do so-so yoga.
FRANK: What did you say? Your lesbian trainer keeps trying to flirt with you?
SARAHK: Yeah. Wait. I mean… She doesn’t train lesbians. She’s my trainer and a lesbian.

These are the conversations we have, because wii’re retarded.


So we’re watching Angel, S3E13 (“Waiting in the Wings”). Angel and Co. are at the ballet, and this transpires:

FRANK: Hey, isn’t that River?
SARAHK: Ooh, Summer Glau? Lemme see. [I rewind.]
FRANK: That would make sense, because isn’t that how he knows her?
SARAHK: Oh yeah. From the ballet? That sounds right. Yep, that’s her. Cool.
FRANK: Yeah, I think that’s what Joss knows her from. She’s like a ballist, or whatever they’re called.
SARAHK: Um. A ballerina?

[We both crack up.]

FRANK: No, she’s that stuff that weighs down ships.