Skip to main content

Sick and low down

These days I don't feel much like writing.  Which is sort of a lot alarming since it's how I plan to make my living when I'm all done with school.  I mean, what is that?  It's silly, that's what it is.  Did I run out of things to say?  My husband probably would answer that question with a firm NO.  Maybe I have too much to say, but I can't or shouldn't or won't. 

So I read this really funny (though a little swear word heavy) book review after our cousin linked it up on facebook.  The thing that made it really funny was the gifs.  Now, I'd link this review but it's not really appopriate for polite company and we're just going to pretend you're all polite.  Sorry.  To make up for it, I'm going to shamelessly steal the gimmick and use it here to update you on all the (you almost care about them) important events of my life from the last couple of months that I haven't been writing about. 

First I was having a great summer, and I was all

And then I got a nasty surprise, and I was all like


And then I was like


And then I, you know, got mad.  Really, really mad.

And afterwards I was all like


For about five minutes.  And then this stuff happened

But it really didn't involve animals so much as air conditioners and cars and things like that

So, you know, now I'm just like


The End.


Karisa said…
I've been feeling like you've been going through a lot lately, and wish I were a better friend. I wish we had a calling together since church keeps us so busy (and never together) and then when I'm at home I have too much social anxiety to actually call someone to hang out. I'll try to be better. This post was so funny!
Sarah said…
Karisa! We are so similar that I am actually kind of amazed. I hate using the phone so very much and I get all hyped up scared just thinking about going to Relief Society. I'm lamer than you are, trust me! Perhaps we need to just get comfortable with dropping by sometimes, I will work on it too!

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…