Anyone out there?

That's right. You've got it. I AM BACK! I know, you're so excited. Of merely secondary importance in the history of the universe, a new blog post written and directed by yours truly. There hasn't been anything this big since James Cameron defied logic by killing Leonardo DiCaprio whilst simultaneously sinking the biggest ship evs.

 Which brings me to my next point; I went to Europe this summer. Like actually went. I didn't do that thing where the spirit leaves the body and travels the world.. It's called astral projection and it's a real thing. I am not an expert, but I am telling you that you should definitely Wikipedia that shit. I swear this is a point to this. I swear the point is not that I have spent too much time on the Craigslist and therefor and unable to put together a coherent sentence.

The point of the above paragraph is to illustrate very non articulately the following formula: Airplane+Europe=Magic. No really. I am not making this up but you have to know the back story to understand this. YOLO, so read this now because it might be your last chance to hear this very important story about my life.

 I read a book, which one occasionally does, when I was 18 called Outlander. It is hard to explain the whole premise but basically:

 Claire Randall, a married combat nurse from 1945 who is mysteriously swept back in time to 1743, where she is immediately thrown into an unknown world where her life is threatened. When she is forced to marry Jamie Fraser, a chivalrous and romantic young Scottish warrior, a passionate relationship is ignited that tears Claire's heart between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives. (I copied this from IMDB, so what)

Got it? Good. "But how did she end up back in time," you ask. Obviously she stepped through a split stone in an ancient stone circle. It happens all the time and I don't understand why you had to ask. The book takes place in the Highlands of Scotland so of course I strapped on my hiking backpack and my mom pulled her suitcase and we headed northward from Edinburgh to Inverness.

Now, I don't know if you have ever driven on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, shifting gears with the wrong hand, in a gigantic city you don’t know...but it was terrifying and I wasn't even driving. Inverness is such a lover's city but I was being sort of a brat because I was homesick and about to start my period or something so I think I ruined the first night there. Sorry Mom. But after that it was really amazing. Really. Wow. I took public transportation to Culloden Field which was really super fun because the bus driver was sexy and had a fun accent and said, "where are you from?" And I asked him to marry me and he said yes. JK. I got to Culloden and all joking aside. Whoa. It was beautiful. And haunting. It is really hard to put into words. It was lovely and clear that day but you could really see the freezing, starving highlanders pushing their way across the field; fighting until they had no fight left.

If you study the rising you know what a serious impact this had on the lifestyle of the people; it quite literally changed their way of life forever. I spent all day there. They have done an amazing job with the visitors center; tons of information, presentations, and guided tours of the battlefield. Then I walked to the Clava Cairns. I passed sheep and highland cattle, and rabbits until I found myself in this shady grove. This is where many people believe the inspiration is for the split stone from the novel and hundreds of people travel there dreaming that the stone will sweep them away too, to their destiny. I spotted it almost immediately through the mossy trees and giant roots. I walked toward it with purpose and for one completely silly moment I believed that I would be gone. As I stretched my hand toward it, I knew I would wake up in the past. I held my breath. And as I pulled my hand away, I sighed and chuckled to myself. I am ridiculous.

The bad (ish) news is that I was still in 2013 but the good news is that at 26, I still believe in magic. And my destiny? It's mine to find. Mine to embrace. Life is so stinkin' cool. I hope you all had a totally magical summer. I know I sure did.

"The" One.

My Facebook marital status has been "single" for over two years now. It seems almost impossible that it has been that long. But the months go by whether we will it or no and in that time I have given A LOT of thought to what I am looking for in "the one". Wakefulness was keeping me tossing and turning last night and I started to put all these little thoughts together and I wrote them down in my journal which is filled with much more juicy detail than I would ever dare put here but I wrote the following summation at last:

I will wait for someone who has armored himself with the strength and presence of a man. Who, underneath, is filled with tenderness, good humor, and love. And when the hard day is done I can look to and trust because his core is composed of the sort of honor that separates men from boys.

Those are really big shoes (preferably covering the feet of someone tall and handsome but I am really not as picky on that front). There are certain conversations I just am not willing to have with my future spouse. They are things I won't need to tell him because they are as intrinsic as the quiet comfort of a darkening horizon.

I don't expect that things will be perfect or even close but in the infinite wisdom of my best friend, "you don't have to compromise on being married to a grown up."

And I don't intend to...anymore. We accept the love we think we deserve. When I opened my heart to this one line, social media repost my choices became limited, sure, but the sort of love I am destined for became the kind capable of gripping the soul and spanning a lifetime. And my heart can't settle for anything less.

Book Club?

I remember reading my first romance novel. Stolen (borrowed) from the overcrowded bookshelving in the office at my parents' house, the yellow front cover displayed two cherubic angels pulling back lace curtains to reveal a Victorian style bassinet and proclaimed the title in huge red lettering, Nobody's Baby But Mine.

I don't remember much about the book really except that it was about a really smart woman who wants to have a baby with someone dumb because she doesn't want her child to be ostrasized by society for being a braniac. Then it turns out that the not-so-smart professional quarterback whose child she carried was actually *gasp* SUMMA CUM LAUDE at his very prestigious, ivy league school. And imagine her surprise! But then they forgive each other, get married, and live happily ever after (with a few super steamy sex scenes, of course.)

And I don't know how many Jude Deveraux novels I read after that. There is one I remember specifically for some reason called Twin of Ice. His name is Kane Taggart. Her name is Houston Chandler. You already must know where this is going even just knowing their names but at the end of the most scandalous chapter my 16 year old eyes had ever beheld Kane Taggart stands up with pebbles stuck to his backside (imagine!) creating the dimpled look common to sitting on wicker.

The truth is, no matter how cheesy, I have not met a book I didn't like. Except for anything I had to read in high school English. No Mrs. Boch-Parker, I would not like to read this meandering, pointless novel written by a manic depressive feminist. Being on Hitler's blacklist does not make you a good writer...well, unless your Anne Frank because she is amazing. Okay, so maybe I am being too hard on Virginia Woolf but I hated that book and I was pretty sure that my teacher knew I only read half the Spark Notes version.

The only exception to the high school syllabus reading exception is THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH which I don't think counts because watching a classroom full of teenagers look on horrified as the words "scented bush" are read aloud makes me lol even ten years later.

Really, long story short I want to start a book club. Because I am obsessed with books. And I want to talk about them with people. Would anyone want to do it? We could do it online as a Facebook group even?

PLEASE!?

We to me.

Anyone who has ever gone through a serious break up probably knows the long process it takes to truly "get over" that person. In the first days, you forget that you aren't together and reach for the phone to call them before you remember you can't. It makes your heart hurt down to your finger tips where you ache to dial their number. And it doesn't really matter if you were the break up-er or the break up-ee. If you truly loved that person, whatever the reasons, it just flat out sucks.

Weeks and months go by and you might still be fighting. Everything you see, think, or do seems to rip open the fresh wounds. You might see them in the grocery and it shakes you to the core.

Because there is anger, annoyance, frustration, pain and then, hopefully, a tentative forgiveness until you talk very little or not at all.

Somewhere in that time I assumed a new identity. Instead of referring to myself constantly as "we" I began to say "I". Me. I scarcely knew what that meant. I had been in one relationship or another for so long I had never developed a full sense who I am; what I want.

I was afraid. Of doing the wrong thing. Of someone being disappointed in me. Of being alone. But if this season of of life has taught me anything it is this:

Stop waiting for other people to tell you it is okay to live.


And I will be in Scotland on my 26th birthday. And Germany before it and Ireland after. And I am going to stop waiting to start living. Every decision I have made has been influenced by someone else. I guess that is the way it always goes but the problem is that I have been dangerously susceptible to not believing in myself. And I do now. I believe in myself.

Me. And that's okay with me. How freeing.

So basically it's like the Lion King.

hey is that any good looking ladies out there-26

Hey ladies
I'm Dan looking for someone to huge out have some fun. I like to go out to the cubs, outdoor activities, watching movies. If it sounds like u hit me up. Pic for pic.


Dan,

I had so much hope for you. I am proud of your excellent usage of a contraction! And that is really the only thing I can say. Dan, Dan...what happened to you? Did you just type a lot of letters and let iPhone auto correct create your ad from there? I really must warn you against the dangers of depending too much on technology. Have you not seen THE MATRIX TRILOGY? Yea, me neither. But basically this lot of robots band together against humanity and create this fake world and it's actually hundreds of years in the future but everyone thinks it's the 21st century and this guy takes the blue pill and saves the world. So sort of like The Lion King but instead of it taking place deep in the heart of Africa it takes place in this weird, green binary code.

Anyway, I digress. Please proofread your crap. I mean really, your use of commas is hurting, my, brain. Comma.

Thank you for your consideration,

Sara

Wall colors that seem like a great idea...but aren't: episode 1

Me: Dad, will you teach me how to paint? I suck at it.
Dad: (looking like I asked him to kill a man) yea, you suck at it.

And then he proceeded to tell me for the 9 gazillionth time how awful it was to paint over "that blue in your old bathroom." And I nodded and let him tell me, appreciating his plight but thinking that I wasn't the one that let a 16 year old me pick paint colors and head downstairs with roller and brush to...do a sucky paint job that I thought looked, like, totally amaze!

Dad: What color are you trying to paint over?
Me: robins egg ish
Dad: (as he twitched with post traumatic stress disorder) so it's blue? You know how many coats it took to paint your old bathroom? (And then with a sigh) When?

I love my dad so much.

And I appreciate my parents allowing me to express myself by decorating my own bathroom (in all it's underwater glory) and my room (which looked like a stupid retro Easter egg). So when Jessica came to live here I let her pick her own paint color and we taped out squares (Pinterest!) and in regular teenager form the girls had a painting party. And then she started writing song lyrics on the same wall with black marker and I was initially annoyed but figured I would have to paint the wall anyway and let her write away.

And tonight, two coats in, I know that as cute and teenage girly as her room was that I will never. Ever. Do this again. Sorry future children. You'll have to ask your "auntie" Jess why you can't paint your room, like, dark purple and gold.

"I am a woman more thankful for what I am than guilty for what I am not."

A few weeks ago I bought my first set of "grown up" sheets. I saw them at Target. Thomas O'Brien vintage collection, gray, and they matched my bedding just perfectly. Admittedly my $12 Wal Mart fitted sheet had been washed to the point that the elastic didn't have any more stretch to give and the flat sheet...well, let's not talk about that. But as far as the ol' budget goes sheets are not at the top of the mad money priority list.

So I picked them up. And I put them down. And I walked down the aisle, turned around. Picked them up, put them down, looked at the price, walked away. I looked at cosmetics, went back to bedding. Picked them up, put them down. Put them in my cart. Mentally balanced my check book. Walked away. Brought them back. PUT THEM AWAY. Picked them up. Bought them. Walked to the car. Immediately had buyer's remorse. Wanted to return them. Kept them and as I peeled off those ugly, old, thread bare, discount sheets I realized how crazy I probably looked to everyone in Target and how I should have done this MONTHS ago. I was frustrated with myself for giving myself such a hard time for making a purchase that while slightly frivolous bordered on the 'need to buy' category.

And ever since that moment I have been writing this post in my head. I know that I am not the only woman who does this to herself. And why? Why do we do this? And I realized it is because of this ridiculous and contentious need to be everything to everyone all the time.

Well I am not. And I am not going to feel inadequate or selfish over sheets. Or over women who are more beautiful than me. Or over trying desperately to find that balance between not enough and too much in every situation that does or possibly could arise. We drive ourselves crazy over these small, trivial things. We make ourselves miserable over $75.00 sheets, unused coupons, and fingerprints on the coffee table. I can do what I can but I can't do it all and I want to teach myself that I don't have to.

I am thankful for what I am. Strong, smart, independent, funny, compassionate, and open hearted. I want to embrace what I know to be true and stop obsessing and expending unimaginable amounts of time and energy so that people (who are going to think what they are going to think regardless) will like me more. I am likable for exactly who I am today. I am worthy of friendship, love, and happiness for exactly what I am right now.

So let's let them talk. And let's be more thankful for who we are than guilty for what we are not.

The seed of the happiness that is steeped in content can only begin to grow if you find it in your heart to let it.