Bonita is HITCHED!!!

My Bonita Flanagita is officially married, and I, for one, could not be happier. Bonnie and I met six years ago while we were both long-term subs at the high school. I was immediately initimidated by her natural rapport with students and her extroverted personality that drew EVERYONE to her. She will tell you that she thought I was an uptight sqaure. Thus began our beautiful friendship.

In the past six years we have shed many a tear and laughed many a laugh together. We have also broken up twice, but found we couldn't live without each other and immediately got back together. Yes, Bonnie and I are an old married couple. The truth is, we adore each other and my Bonita has truly become my long lost twin. We finish each other's sentences, we have our own language, and we currently share a duplex. She is the peas to my carrots, so when she cries, I cry, and when she rejoices, I rejoice.

And on Tuesday, baby, we REJOICED (which did involve a little crying)! You see on Tuesday, my Bonita Flanagita married the man she has been waiting for - the man who brings out the very best of who she fundamentally is - and Trevor and I watched with pure, unadulterated JOY. Adam truly is who I would have picked for my friend, as he loves her and her daughter not just in his words, but also in his actions, and for this very reason, Adam is now one of my favorite people in this world.

Here is Bonita getting ready for the day...

...while Abby starts the party. The apple does NOT fall far from the tree.

Here is one of the most delicious wedding cakes I have ever had...

...and here are my friends tying the big, fat knot.

I love you, Bonita, and I cannot express in words how happy it makes me to know you have found your happily ever after. Congratulations, mi amiga!!!

"The cat bit my toe!"

I can't seem to convince my husband that the cad did NOT bite his toe during his sleep. Here's the thing - when Trevor woke up yesterday morning to let the dogs out, both cats were outside, patiently waiting by the back door to be let inside. Nonetheless, Trevor sincerely believes that one of the cats bit his toe in the middle of the night, and he believes he has the bitemark to prove it. Let me replay our conversation last night for you...

Trevor: The cat bit my toe last night.

Sara: Trevor, that's impossible. Both of the cats were outside last night.

Trevor: No, the cat bit my toe. I swear, the cats were in bed with you when you went to bed.

Sara: Trevor, are you implying that one of us woke up in the middle of the night and let the cats outside, and yet neither one of us remembers doing that?

Trevor: I don't know.

Sara: Baby, the cat didn't bite your toe. There were no cats in our bed last night.

Trevor: The cat bit my toe! I have the bitemark to prove it! (Trevor pulls off his sock and points to a red bump on his large toe.)

Sara: (Looks closely at the red bump...) Sweetheart, that's a bug bite. The cat did not bite your toe.

Trevor: The cat bit my toe.

So, despite all of the evidence, my cat (and I am pretty sure he is blaming Olive) bit Trevor's toe. Just comes to show you that when you need for someting to be true, it becomes true. But I will have the last word on this one...The freakin' cat did NOT bite your toe!

Surprise!!!

Somebody ticked off God today. Take a look at the size of this hail...This picture doesn't do it justice, but believe me when I tell you, it was FREAKIN' BIG!!!

The skies opened up as I was driving home from work today,  and I must say, I was a bit caught off guard. As I pulled onto my street, the kids who live across the street from us were outside trying to catch the hail using their baggy sweatshirts as hail catchers. I, on the other hand, opened my mouth to try and catch some. I wonder how many calories that was???

But the surprises didn't stop there. When I opened our front door and walked inside, look what I found waiting for me:

A bouquet of tulips, a pack of Big Red, and a love note! And the best part is, Trevor did this JUST BECAUSE!!! Unbelievable! 

I love good surprises!

What would my "Last Lecture" be?

It's time to get real with myself. I have been in a funk lately, and I can't seem to snap out of it. If I'm really honest, I've been throwing myself a Pity Party and in order to ensure that I remain the guest of honor, I have refused to send all of those annoying party guests (i.e. really bad thoughts) back home.


Up until today, I thought I had some real problems. You know, "problems" like a double-chin and a fatty belly. "Problems" like a close friend consciously choosing to cut me out of her life."Problems" like the inability to convince a coworker that I am not less valuable than him just because I've put in less years of teaching. "Problems" like seeing a picture of a former student on the front page of the local newspaper for dealing drugs and feeling like I could have done so much more for him. "Problems" like desperately trying to get pregnant, only to be disappointed time and time again, and worst of all, not being able to convince myself that it's not my fault.


And then today I finished reading Randy Pausch's novel "The Last Lecture," and I realized I don't have real problems. In fact, my only real problem is my attitude, and my attitude needs a swift kick in the ass.


Randy Pausch passed away last year from pancreatic cancer, leaving behind his wife and three small children. Randy - a computer science professor - had several months to prepare for his inevitable death and was most distraught over the fact that his oldest child would remember very little about him while his two youngest children would remember nothing. And so Randy was faced with a dilemna - HOW do I leave behind for my children WHAT I want them most to remember about me after I am gone. Enter in, literally, his last lecture (which was videotaped for his children) at Carnegie Mellon University, and which has been turned into a national best-selling novel.

I now find myself pondering, what would my last lecture be if I knew I had only months to live. In short, here are the top five lessons I have learned in my life that I would want those I love to remember me by:

#1 - Dogs may be a man's best friend, but cats are a woman's. They just get IT, man! Don't tell me what to do, just feed me, pet me, let me sleeep, and tell me I'm pretty. Done.

#2 - Love doesn't come waltzing in on a white horse. It doesn't ask you to leave your life behind, or to sacrifice bits of your soul, and it sure as hell doesn't make you feel like you've just been saved. Real love saunters in slowly, subtly, and humbly. Real love demands only one thing - be you, ALL of you.

#3 - Sometimes you think you really know someone, and then one day you discover you really don't. These people are part of the universe's grand plan to teach you something you need to know about yourself in order to survive the rest of your life. Love these people while you have them, and when they're gone, say "Thank you." Thank you for making me better, and thank you for going away.

#4 - On the flipside, sometimes you think you really know someone, and then you find out that you really do. These people are also part of the universe's grand plan to give you EXACTLY what you need - validation. (i.e. Thank you Trevor, mom, Lisa, Mark, Ana, David, Dianna, Melanie, Tony, Alissa, Bonnie, Katy, Megan, Chris, Erica, Angela, Des, Bethany, Luke, Clutch, and I know I am forgetting people but my mind has drawn a blank...)

#5 - Ice cream makes everything better. Got dumped? Eat ice cream. Got screwed? Eat ice cream. Got stabbed in the back? Eat ice cream. Got laid off from work? Eat ice cream. Feeling fat? Well then, eat ice cream. I highly recommend a cookie dough/peanut butter cup Blizzard or a hot fudge sundae made with chocolate chip mint and peanut butter chocolate ice cream - extra whip cream, lots of nuts, but hold the cherry.

Thank you, Randy Pausch, for the swift kick in the ass.

The Pity Party is over, and I have you to thank for it.

Good times in P-Town!

There are some friends in life that no matter how long it has been since you last saw them, you literally just pick up right where you left off. With Bethany, it has always been this way. This picture, taken this past weekend, proves it. And no, I don't know what we're doing.

Bethany and I met in '97 when we lived in the same residence hall together - she was an R.A. and I was a wannabe R.A., and thus my admiration of her began. You see, Bethany has always been the kind of woman I wish I could be more like. In other words, she kicks ass at pretty much everything she does. She is a Doctorate-toting, picture-taking, motorcyle riding, sky diving, snow boarding, surfing triathelete who never lets fear dictate her life. Most importantly, she is probably the most optimistic person I know, and often self-elects herself to be other people's personal cheerleader. In short, I love her, and with that being said, being able to spend this last weekend made me realize how much I miss her. We ate, we drank, we skiied (some better than others), and we laughed our asses off.

Here we are on the way up to Mt. Hood...

Here is the mountain in all its glory...

And here Trevor and I are, moments after I fell TWICE down the moutain, and moments before I decided that maybe strapping two pieces of wood to the bottom of my feet and flinging myself down a mountain going 40 mph just may not be my cup of tea.

Thank you, Bethany, for the fantastic weekend and for always being one of my personal cheerleaders. I love you and miss you already.

Puck Ewe!

Sometimes I forget that I haven't known Tony and Melanie my entire life. We have shared our childhood stories so effortlessly, that I often feel like I was there when they rode the bus to school, when Melanie and Andria started showing sheep, and of course when Tony and Melanie fell in love. I just feel like I have been there the whole time, which is why yesterday - when Trevor and I got to go to The Maxwell's for the first time - everything came full circle. It's amazing how seeing and experiencing where your best friends grew up can make you understand why you love them so much. I got to hold a baby lamb and listen as its mother called for it to come back. I got to watch Tony and Melanie help Papa Ike milk a mama sheep and then tube feed its babies. I got to flip through a scrapbook of family photos while drinking a delicious cup of hot chocolate. It was wonderful, and I, for one, am going back to get myself a baby sheep.

We ended our evening by going to the hockey game with Alissa and Kelsey. Between the beer and the Huck-A-Puck, a good time was had by all. Who knew that men on skates could inspire such enthusiasm?

Meet Ugly.

And no, I am not introducing myself this time. I actually mean, "Meet Ugly," this guy:

Let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, there lived a pudgy little girl, whose brown hair was in the process of becoming a mullet, and whose number one goal in life was to own as many stuffed animals as possible. You see, these stuffed animals were very important as they acted as this little girl's students during hours and hours of playing school. So, when this little girl was given the dog you see above for her 9th birthday by her mother - who deeply understood this girl's plight to educate those stuffed minds - she embraced the dog, showed it to all of her adoring friends, and proudly named it Ugly. 

Fast-forward to 15 years later. The pudgy little girl had blossomed into a Goddess Of All That Is Aesthetically Pleasing Woman (i.e. no mullet), who now had REAL students all of her very own and no longer needed the dozens of stuffed toys that defined her childhood. It was then that Ugly was sent away to the land of Used-Up Toys, and this woman never gave it a second thought.

And then 7 more years passed and this happened...on Monday night, Trevor and I met up with Des and her girls at D.Q. to celebrate my 31st birthday. Des is my oldest friend, and by oldest I don't mean she is 81. I mean we have been friends since Ms. Wintzcak's 3rd grade class. She called me Pork Chop and I called her Steak. No, I'm not joking. We also spent hours playing "Life" so we could name our numerous children, we spent many a summer day swimming at the pool, we always played on the same basketball team ('cause her dad always picked me), and we spent hours chasing after geese on her parents' farm. We also spent our sophomore year not speaking to each other, for reasons I can no longer remember, and we spent our senior year sharing a locker. But the most important part of this story is that Des was at my 9th birthday party, and Des remembered Ugly.

So guess what Des showed up with on Monday night? Ugly! Freakin' Ugly! Des found Ugly in a bag of stuffed toys brought to her place of work, and Des grabbed Ugly and said to herself, "This is Sara's toy, and I am returning it to its rightful owner." When little Camryn held up Ugly and said "Here," I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Uuuuggggggggllllllllyyyyyyyy!!!" I had no idea my love for Ugly ran so deep, but Des did, and so here is the moral of this story: When you have a friend who has literally witnessed every part of your life since you were 8-years-old, you need to hold onto that friend for dear life because sometimes, this friend knows what you need - and what you miss - even before you do. 

Thank you, Des, for bringing Ugly home. And thank you for loving me, for supporting me, and mostly for just KNOWING me, then and now. You are my Desert Flea, and I love thee. :)