So I am leaving momentarily to head into Vancouver to pick up Laura! I like to refer to this as Laura 2008, as though there is no other explanation needed. Just one word to sum it all up, like Christmas.

I am pretty excited! Laura and I have not seen each other since last summer, when we had a stilted and awkward conversation somewhere in the vicinity of the old red shag carpet that used to make up my basement. Since then, much has changed. I can't help but reflect on all the awesome things we did and now have done, and I really think this will really be a Laura to Remember.

... Only the most astute of you will note my reference to the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers Christmas Album.

I have been babysitting great children all day, but am now mysteriously covered in yogurt ... how, I do not know. Children just seem to go hand in hand with yogurt and sticky hands and tubs of colourful, broken crayons.

-- Update! Laura is here safe and sound! Tomorrow, we begin adventures in the Fraser Valley... watch for pictures, Internet!

Labels: Adventures in Babysitting, Sarah Land

From December of 2007:

Today I went offroading. True offroading, like the sort of thing you see in truck commercials, zigzagging in a tipsy Raider all over the rugged country side. I am pretty sure we should have had a manly theme song accompanying our steep climbs twisty turns over slippery peagravel. Melissa is an awesome driver, cackling with glee as we soared over bumps, jostling around like the inside of maracas. Red, 1987, speedy maracas.



It used to be that I did things because I was afraid of them -- challenging them with passiveness, or taking them headon to tackle my fears, but these days, I'm not entirely sure why I do the things I do. I don't know if it's to prove anything to myself or to anyone else -- maybe I just feel the need to take a little bit of every experience and horde it for myself, create stories from new great events, build memories of the thing I've done, rather than the things I've seen, knit myself into the fabric while it happens, instead of hearing about it later, or reading it somewhere in a book. I can't see myself growing roots just yet, settling, simmering down. I feel like I've only really just begun.

From the end of November, 2007:

Today I :

- Pet Melissa's golden rat, who curled up on my chest like a content little cat. I want to get a rat of my own and name it Sarah. I think this would be hilarious. Which, in other news, I guess now is a good time to tell you that Melissa has a golden rat, whose name is Samson. Like from "Dazed and Confused". At first I was a little creeped out, because I have a strange phobia of rats and their little sharp rat feet and squirmy long rat tails, but after gradual pettings I have realized he is possibly the greatest rat in all the land, and given him free reign to do adorable things... like climb up on my shoulder and wander through my hair.

Or as this picture demonstrates, my uhm, bosom.



- Wore a construction hat. Hottest thing this side of Exucon. My head is not as big as I thought it was, which bodes well for hat shopping. Particularly because I am going to single handedly bring back the beret.

Or not so singlehandedly, since they are selling tons of them in stores now.

- Learned some cool lab things. The other day I was fitted with an i.d. bracelet for training purposes ... only I forgot to remove it, and so have been walking around for nearly two days wearing my name around my wrist. This will be great if I suddenly experience a concussion, though. Which is possible because I run into a lot of things.

- was really tired. Which is why I'm up at midnight again, I guess.

- Accidentally mooned all of downtown. I need to find pants that fit me, or I need to just give up the fight and walk around pantsless. It's the QCI, and really, I can't be the first person whose ever tried to introduce a pantsless, accepting world.

__________________________-

I never posted these, mainly because they were saved somewhere in the annals of my laptop computer, but it's weird to see perspective. A lot of things have changed for me in the past few months, and still, many things have stayed the same. Living with my parents can be challenging, but then again, so can algebra, and honestly, I would rather be putting up with mother-daughter squabbles involving the state of my closet or drinking the last cold Diet Pepsi than attempt to do anything that requires a knowledge beyond grade two math.

On Monday, I mowed lawns. You can all prepare yourselves to react in shock, because I have never mowed a lawn... much less a lawn meadow. I kept putting in self-propelled and then freaking out because the lawn mower took on a MIND OF IT'S OWN and wrenched itself out of my hands and started like, gunning towards the pansy bed with next destination: A CHILD'S PLAYGROUND. Or, no. No. But still. I worked with Brad that day, and let's be honest, he did the brunt of the work, as he is hardcore about his lawnmowing. He kept using his Tae-bo muscles to lift the lawnmower off the trailer, kind of nonchalantly, like any second he was going to whip out a '57 Chevy and lift it with the LOWER HALF OF HIS JAW.

Monday night, I got really, really, really sick. The kind of sick where you kind of collapse where ever you are, and NO ONE is going to move you. With that kind of sick, you don't care who it is. Jesus could like, come on down with the hopes of hanging out, maybe watch a little bit of Oprah, and you kind of have to be like, "Unnnhhhhhhhhhhh", which roughly translates to "No. I think I'm going to pass out in the hallway for a good four hours and groan incontrollably and irritatingly about how sick I am. Maybe next time, Jesus."

Labels: Sarah Land, Travels

I get the strangest songs stuck in my head at work. I spent two hours on Thursday inwardly rocking out to the Entertainment Tonight theme song, followed by a whopping four hours with the first couple lines of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" serving as a soundtrack to tulip deadheading.

What's been up lately? Quite a bit. This week has been a banner week for emotional outbursts, crying fits and tractor accidents. On Monday, me and Peter Petrelli (not his real name. I was not involved in a tractor debaucle with the guy from Heroes, but .... nicknames are important. Like how Brad refers to me as "Soverguns", or "Double S", and other work people as "Brano", "Bruski Bonaduski" and etcetera. Some even have their own theme songs. Anyways.) Peter and I had a tractor accident, and I was thrown off the back of the trailer. I had this split second action movie moment where I was like, "Oh, crap." before the trailer flipped over and landed on me, one of the heavy wooden planks on the side hitting me on the back of the head.

Peter was okay, and I was just dazed and bruised. My immediate thought upon standing up was, "Oh my. We need to clean up this mess." as the leavings of fifty pulled up tulips littered the ground amongst pitchforks, potato forks and various shovels. I was fine, if a little shocked, until we found my boss. When he asked me if I was okay, I started crying like a big, concussed retard. There is something about having other people ask you if you're alright that immediately makes some people want to break down crying.

Tuesday I presented my portfolio for the Visual Arts program. A couple of days before presenting I started panicking about my extreme lack of non-photographic media, so I painted a box (pictures coming eventually) I found at Value Village, and collaged the inside (I used zero podgy. I am shocking.) I added a little "Box of Good Fortune" label, and have now filled it with: my favourite agate, a little glass bottle that will eventually be full of something awesome, and my Nan's passport photo. Things look hopeful thus far as they said my portfolio was strong, so I've got my fingers crossed for good news.

Friday at work I got sick after first break. Things were just dandy until I ate a double chocolate donut, which was my first thing to eat all day, and after that things just went downhill. I was a mess and ended up heading home an hour and a half early.

This weekend appears pretty quiet, which is okay. Sometimes I really miss my cool Island weather, when the temperature hits 30 degrees and there's not a shady spot to be found, though. And now, I'm off... I have a date with my camera and a hidden away mountainside cemetery.

Labels: Sarah Land

My cousin Luke and his girlfriend came down this weekend to kick back and relax it all cool, possibly while playing some b-ball outside of the school. That's when a couple of guys who were up to no good broke into Brad's car and stole my brand new MP3 Player. It was especially sad because I had only just finished cramming it with Led Zeppelin. I had been looking forward to belting out "When the Levee Breaks" while planting flowers, possibly followed by the X-Ray Specs "Oh Bondage, Up Yours!" while driving a tractor in jeans two times too big on me.

Side note, bending over is kind of a chore in large pants. I am pretty sure I have flashed my goods at one time or another to all my coworkers, and soon, the general public .... aka, delightful old ladies in pastel Easter hats.

Anyways, my MP3 player. They broke into the car while it was in the Vancouver Hotel parkade, busting Brad's lock and opening up the car to access the sweet bevy of music found within. Luckily they left Brad's impressive music collection alone. I guess there isn't much of a demand for Heart on audio cassette. While it sucks that it's gone, it could've been a lot worse. What pisses me off however is the cavalier attitude displayed by the staff of the Vancouver Hotel. When Brad told the ticket operator about the break in, while pointing to their sign claiming 24 hour video surveillance, the man simply nodded and told us how much we owed for parking. I realize that an MP3 player isn't high up on the list of major thefts, but some reaction would've been appropriate. It sort of threw me into a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon, so much so that I could barely enjoy a bucket full of gecko's on a stick in Chinatown.

Geckos. On a stick. I am totally serving that up at my next summer barbecue.

I did cheer myself up with some awesome purchases, like shoes in bright red. I am wearing them right now and might never take them off. I also bought a hoodie and emblazoned "Sarah the Pirate" on it. That's right. I am now meandering around town wearing a personal shoutout to my blog. And by "town" I mean "Easter Sunday at church."

Brad and I have also decided to tell the world that we're twins. It works because he would like to remain 25 for the next five years or so, and sometimes we inexplicably end up wearing matching clothes. Like on Friday when we went bowling wearing brown hoodies and blue jeans. I'm not sure how it happened, it wasn't intended, but I'm pretty sure faux twins dressing alike well into their 20's is perfectly acceptable in everyday society.

I am now off to dinner at Jamie's family's house... first time meeting his extended family. I am kind of nervous. I hope I don't mix up my consonants or drink too much wine. I don't think things would go over well if I suddenly slammed my wine glass down and challenged his grandmother to a shot contest.

Labels: Family, Musings, Sarah Land, Shopping

It's my birthday today. I am 25 and awesome.

Here I am when I wore a lot of tights. I hope to someday wear more tights and themed dance outfits. Like tonight, perhaps.


Tonight we're going to Boston Pizza for dinner. Honestly, I love Boston Pizza but I never go. They have so many good things on the menu, you always intend to go for Pizza, because it is AMAZING, but when you get there, you are tantalized by lasagna's and chicken pecan salad. Meanwhile, people at tables next to you are ordering pizza, and when it arrives, you can't help but think, "That looks delicious," before going back to your now lackluster cactus nachoes. So I totally intend on getting myself a delightful birthday pizza.

Secondly, I HAVE A NEW JOB. And my back hurts. AND I DRIVE A TRACTOR. I am now a labourer / groundskeeper at a local garden. Yesterday I waded into a black, mucky pond and shovelled it out, finding salamanders and the occasional muddied quarter, and today I did a ton of raking, and learned how to drive the tractor... like an old lady.

And now I am off to pick up a mysterious, awesome birthday package at the post office! Woooo!

Labels: Sarah Land

They just opened up a Starbucks next to my house which I'm eternally thankful for. I always feel slightly guilty for loving Starbucks so much, like any minute God will storm out of his beach hut, wearing dreads and a sweater knit with pure organic wool and strike me down for enjoying a good cup of coffee from a faceless corporation. Unfortunately I am weak for caramel macchiato's, and their Vanilla latte pretty much makes me want to whip off my top and fling my breasts about like a personal, caffeinated Girls Gone Wild mardi gras.

So I walked to and from there, which was lovely. I find that I'm not walking as much as I did on the Island, which is bad news for my ass, and I'm trying real hard to get back into the swing of regular exercise. I have even started Tae-bo, which is great, because Billy Blanks is inspiring. It's like the DVD version of Billy Blanks knows exactly when I figure out and correctly execute his helicopter move, because it's at that moment that he turns, the sweat from his forehead dripping down his skin and INTO HIS MOUTH, and tells me, "That's it... you got it... don't quit on me now." I won't quit you, Billy Blanks.

I then sat outside on my little patio and read for a good hour, sipping on a semi-warm White Chocolate Mocha and listening to music. I have been listening to a ton of Cocoon lately. They have a cover version of "Hey Ya", which is great, and "Hummingbird" is wonderful. I've also started listening to Tilly and the Wall, and I am rocking a pretty firm girl crush on Sia.

Searching randomly through google, I found this website that looks really interesting: Good Reads, which lets you review and recommend books you're reading, while getting recommendations from other people. All sorts of wonderful considering I need some new reading material. If any of you sign up, add me - my username is sarahthepirate.

Labels: Reading Is Sexy, Sarah Land

I am turning 25 in a few days and I'm not sure how I feel about this. So far, not much. I've been having weird dreams lately, about zombies and apocalypses and genitals the size of a baseball bat (don't ask.) I'm not really where I wanted to be when I turned 25, but to be honest, when I was fourteen 25 looked like a giant character home on the edge of the ocean, writing world famous novels with my thirteen children in tow. When I was seventeen, 25 was living in England, quickly developing a kick ass accent and letting ocean winds test their will against my hair.

At twenty-four, 25 looks like a start towards an art degree, a boyfriend who does a fine robot, and a wealth of people I'm so incredibly lucky to have in my life. Even if most of them live too far away, they are never far from my heart.

.... I totally stole that from a mug I saw at Hallmark. These days I share my feelings more easily than a Jane Seymour movie that references the inappropriate touching of horses.

I've decided, anyways, that I'd like to start learning something new everyday. Not being in school means that a lot of time seems to just slip by without gaining any new knowledge. I carry a notebook around with me, for whenever I feel like pulling out my inner thesaurus to express my feelings in black Sharpie and a whole repetoire of words meaning "ouch, my heart," but sometimes I also use it to write down books I want to read, music I should listen to, or things I'd like to learn more about. Unfortunately, many of my ideas don't get past the jotting down stage, but I intend to remedy that by researching something new everyday, and posting it on this here blog.

On a side note, I've started uploading some old film stills to flickr, found here, as well as some photographs taken at the same time of Thunder Bay's Pioneer Village, found here. Interestingly enough, if you check out a pamphlet from the Pioneer Village, my dad's in it.

Labels: Musings, Sarah Land

I just took an IQ test. I did one earlier, too, but the resulting number had me crying in the corner, comforted only be the gentle timbre of Steve Perry's voice coming from my Ipod. Or my mom's Ipod. Whatever.

Thankfully, this one was much kinder and I'm determined to believe the one I took previously was horribly flawed in some way. Partially because I refuse to believe I am less intelligent than George Bush. Come on. I'm not even sure he knows what a vowel is.

Anyways, I'm now at a much happier point. I may even get my IQ tattooed across my forehead. I'll just have to pick out an incredibly spectacular font. With maybe a few exclamation points. And an add on that I belong to the High IQ Society. ... or would, if I had 48 dollars to buy the membership. Or the desire to buy one. But seriously, I have about enough money to pay for a half finished Tim Horton's coffee provided by a dirty stranger, with change scraped from the inside of the sofa.

So it's currently officially Valentine's Day, and I am, in the words of Jamie, as "excited as a kid on Christmas". This is very true, except Valentine's Day may be better than Christmas at this moment, mostly because I am not single and alone and spending the day eating chips and watching sub-par Queen Latifah movies with my cat. Actually, hold on a minute, I rescind that. I don't think I've ever really done that on Valentine's Day, mostly because Valentine's Day is a great excuse to gather together groups of your single friends and have merry, awesome times as a sort of general eff you to Valentine's Day in general.

Except that I'm not single this year, so I'm real excited and irritatingly obnoxious about the whole thing. I even bought vintage Valentine's, which everyone should be receiving through mail sometime around May. Honestly, I know how I roll.

What else is new? I got a job! I am now working at this adorable local secondhand bookshop. There are all these rooms covered in books, little shelves filled with little wonders, amazing people, elephants referred to as "working elephants" and myriad other marvels -- not to even mention how much fun I'm finding the covers found in their romance section.

I am relieved on multiple levels, partly because it's such a great working environment, but also because the Angry Tim Horton's was my next option, and besides the fact that everyone working there always appears one dull knife away from murder, I am 100% certain God never intended me to wear a blouse tucked into my khaki tapered pants. Sorry, Tim Horton. I just... I just can't.

However, I also had another interview on Monday, which went... well. I spilled coffee everywhere and used the words "frigging amazing" to describe the customer service, followed by "half the reason I think I left the Charlotte's was so I could have a decent cup of coffee", while blatantly sipping their product Ron Burgundy style. I even pulled out my Tim Hortons joke, as seen above. It was pretty spectacular, even for me. I got a call back though, so my second interview should occur sometime next week.

Another important date that Valentine's Day marks? My grandma's birthday. She would've been 80 this year, which is astounding, and as I type this wearing a pair of her hand knit slippers, I'm reminded of her smile and her warmth and how lucky all us Sovereign's were to have had her for the wonderful 68 years we did.

Labels: Sarah Land

I am sitting in the kitchen listening to Billy Baldwin try to act. Yesterday was a big Vitamin D filled day, with walks downtown to all my favourite shops, more resume dropping off (things went well this time and I didn't stutter or destroy anyone's workplace with my lack of grace) and a trip to the museum with Jamie.

Different museum than last time -- this one is in the middle of downtown in a grand, white old building. I have been wanting to go inside from the first moment I set eyes on Chilliwack, and it was ... well. It was disappointing kind of, but I think that was mostly because I didn't encounter the ghost of an old British gentleman or become tantalized by a mysterious riddle I accidentally stumbled across inside an antique grandfather clock, which I then had to solve with the help of my two best friends Bess and George. (By the way, for those of you who didn't get my Nancy Drew reference, the thing I remember most about the books when I read them was that Bess was always described as liking to eat, and the ghost writers would spend a whole lot of time trying to politely word themselves around the fact that Bess was kind of a fat ass.)

I was most excited by the sweeping stairway at the museum, which has a big white balcony and huge pillars and an adorable old woman who runs the front, who was so cute I kind of wanted to shrink her down and carry her around with me in my pocket. I think it would work out really well, because she could bake miniature pies and give grandmotherly advice and kill infidels with lasers. *

Jamie took a picture of me on the front stairs, but unfortunately I am awkward and never know how to pose in pictures of myself. Here I am wondering what to do with my shoulders.

The grandness of the building also made it possible for us to pretend that Jamie was a stately politician, possibly running for President (because apparently, historically, we are suddenly American.) ... in a navy blue sweatshirt. Either way, I would totally vote for him. Actually, I'd like to think I'd be awesome at aiding campaigns. I'd be great at making posters and using the word "Awesome" in positive ways and writing things in giant letters across my breasts while walking around town.

*Because all old women have lasers.

Labels: Photographs, Sarah Land, Travels

I am looking for a job all over town ... if I don't get some callbacks soon I'm going to have to resort to selling homemade prescription drugs out my back door. "I've got your Prozac right here!" I'd yell, while quietly closing the cap of a Tic Tac package.

... Or not. Still though. Desperation ensures I'll keep this idea in the back of my mind until some enterprising Bipolar sufferer takes a look at me and says, "There. That's the girl I'd like to get my discount medication from." Which isn't very likely because I don't tend to wear my lab coat around in public... anymore.

Actually, it's not all that bad, although I am starting to worry a little bit. My money is dwindling fast. This is what you get for being the kind of girl who just decides to pick up and move with about fifty dollars in the bank. I've never really grasped the idea of responsibility outside of a Spiderman movie I guess.

I'm not about to give up though, -- and it might be slightly less due to me being immersed up to my knees in adulthood, and more due to the fact that they have really fun mittens for sale on Robson -- and I will be looking around for more jobs tomorrow. I kind of feel like a stranger in a strange land, which is ridiculous because I know a handful of people here -- I think it has more to do with me feeling like I've changed and I can't find a way to cookie cutter myself back into the swing of things.

Today was my mom's birthday, and we all went for dinner at Dakota's where I had a piece of steak the size of a walnut and ate herbed roasted potatoes in under 25 seconds because I excel at gluttony. I ordered a Pink Paradise drink pumped full of alcohol, and as I sat there wishing I had five or so more in front of me, I got this sort of ache in my heart and I missed Melissa and Max and Masset so much I teared up a little.

I'm not much for crying outside of really emotional movies about sinking ocean liners or, even, sometimes, moments from Die Hard when Bruce Willis is being especially awesome and I am overwhelmed by his dedication to driving transports over complicated bridge structures FOR THE SAKE OF THE WORLD, but honestly, I miss my Island, and I miss my family and I miss spontaneous dance parties in the middle of the kitchen.

I miss dressing up to go out in strange outfits, pairing red plastic crocs with brown velvet sequined skirts, I miss walking to the grocery store for Vanilla and Hazelnut coffee. I miss seeing Max come home from school and hearing all about his day, reading him Roald Dahl books, watching movies late into the night on weekends. I miss visiting Melissa in her freezing cold room, dressing up like fairies and trudging off towards the woods with my camera, feathers, our bags laden down with shells and tarot cards and rocks. I miss her advice and her laugh and the way she could move for move impersonate Olive Hoover's dance from Little Miss Sunshine.

I don't think I made a mistake in leaving, although I am 100% I will always remember my times with Max and Melissa as being some of the happiest of my life, but I'm feeling kind of lost here, now, unsure of what to do or where to go or how to shape my life and...

I suppose that's life though, especially when you tend to follow whichever way the wind blows. I think I'm experiencing a bit of melancholy due to homesickness and frustration but here are some things that are awesome:

1) I am the only person I know who owns mittens in the shape of mice.
2) Yesterday me and my dad went to a hockey game. It took me a good 15 minutes to figure out which team was the home team (I am great at hockey.) but when we won 5-2 I clapped my hands like a merry little tard and raised a couple of super excited fists into the air like I was Billie Jean and Mr. Pyatt owed me $600 dollars for my brother's "motoscooter".
3) Samuel L. Jackson hand to God SINGS and STEALS MY HEART in Black Snake Moan.

4) The following songs:

a) Bela Lugosi is Dead - Nouvelle Vague
b) Psyche - Nouvelle Vague ("Jesus... Jesus wouldn't like it." .... awesome.)
c) Stripper - SoHo Dolls. (Brad danced to this earlier, and wow. Long blonde hair and a set of solid gold stripper guns and he'd be a half decent erotic dancer. .... gross.)

Labels: Sarah Land

I am living in my parent's basement.

It's actually pretty classy. I feel pretty comfortable bringing random men home from the bar, where they can lounge around on my parent's floral loveseat, or circle their nipples beside our family portrait circa 1987, possibly while clawing their hands in mid-air in a ferocious, tantalizing invitation to.... get herpes. Seriously, when would I ever bring random men home from the bar?

(Except for this one time when me and the girls DESPERATELY needed to get drunken McDonalds, and we met some guy in the parking lot of our hotel who offered to DD us there ... safest decision I ever made. My Chicken McNuggets tasted that much better because they were flavoured with DANGER.)

I can just hear you asking, "Parent's basement, Sarah?"

Well. Long story short I travelled here by hot air balloon* about two weeks ago, with my disgruntled cat, my dad, his Steve Brown sermon tapes and my camera whose card was full of some incredibly spectacular photos of the dashboard. It was awesome that my dad came to pick me up because otherwise I would've had to find a new home for half my stuff.... and honestly, I need all four copies of Alice in Wonderland that I own. We did a big switch with me and my cousin Mike, who is now living in Masset, and now I am diligently attempting to figure out what I'm going to do next in my life.

I am seriously thinking of becoming a trapeze artist. I've been practicing really hard. Like, mostly in my head, where I've been going over the moves I'll do when I finally get my trapeze all set up. ... In my parent's basement, but once it's up and running and I've scheduled my summer tour, it'll be AMAZING.

*Okay, not really, but wouldn't that have been awesome?

Labels: Sarah Land

I have been hearing a lot lately about five year plans, and while I can't argue that they're not a good idea, my five year plan usually doesn't go much further then "I'm going to make banana muffins tomorrow." And even then, sometimes tomorrow rolls around and I'd rather do something more important instead... like extended napping.


Where do I see myself in five years? Who knows. Life decisions are always so hard.. sometimes it's a lot easier to just let the time slip by ... until you're a 24 year old woman living on an isolated island spending a good portion of her time rocking out with the greatest nine year old ever to amazing David Bowie songs.

Honestly, though? My 19 year old self would be so impressed. My big ambition after high school ended was, "I'm going to take some time off and figure things out." Somehow, "figuring things out" turned into a really long vacation with a ton of delivery pizza, pantsless weekdays, getting out of bed at noon and watching an obscene amount of the Gilmore Girls. The prospect of Phlebotomy didn't go much further than "Oh, gross." and living next to the ocean seemed like a distant dream.

I really like the idea of being free right now, but I also understand the importance of having some vague assemblance of A Direction. Kind of how I'd like to have prettier ankles in six months, or how I'd like to finish every single book on my bookshelf by 2008*, or you know ... go to university, become a teacher, learn all the lyrics to Subterreanan Homesick Blues, etc.

I've always had a hard time finding a clear focus for my future. I could immediately draw you a picture of the interior design of my dream home, but God forbid I know what city, or even area of the country I'm living in or what grade I want to teach. (I have it currently broken down to High School and Grades 4 - 7. Kindergarten involves way too many mysteriously sticky jam hands and I remember Grade Eight too well to ever want to be in it permanently.)

The countdown has begun for leaving my island -- December the 13th is the planned for date. My dad's going to come pick me up, because he is awesome, and because we can bond Father Daughter style to the collected musical works of B.J. Thomas, Willie Nelson, and at least one playing of Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler". This all works out because, while I hadn't mentioned it before, I had been half-assedly searching for a home here for Jax, but now that I'm being picked up I can bring him with us. .... so he can meow angrily, ceaselessly for 24 hours straight.

But I'm still experiencing twinges of uncertainty about leaving. I want to go back to university, but I've also got home, a family and a good job here. I get pretty stir crazy sometimes, but all I have to do is look up at the big sky, or the rolling ocean, or the clarity of stars and I feel a little content. I'm not sure if the things I love here, though, are enough to make up for the things I miss... the sound of trains, thunderstorms, Old Navy. Is it shallow to think that the ocean can't entirely make up for incredibly inexpensive shirts and fun purses? Probably.

Me and Brad are going to move out together this summer, or that's how the Plan currently goes. We're looking seriously at Vancouver Island, we just need the cash to make it all happen.... and the drive. Also on my list? P.E.I., or rocking quaint American apartments in Minnesota with the Neets. It seems like every day the branches of my fig tree multiply ... but at least I'm getting closer to picking which branch I want to take.**

*This is going real well. The only books I have left to read are: Maggie Cassidy - Jack Kerouac, The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe, The Scarlet Letter and The Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures. ... I think.

** When I feel deep, I reference the Bell Jar, bitches.

Labels: Sarah Land

As some of you may have heard, probably mostly due to my incessant, repetitive playing of old Phil Collins "Against All Odds" era songs for the past couple of weeks (it's like old Phil Collins looked into my adorable toddler* heart and ripped out the lyrics written there.) -- I am once again on the singles playing field.

Dating is so hard, relationships are even harder. I was kind of toying with the idea of getting a few more cats and then settling in crazed spinster-style with a bevy of ceramic Home Shopping Network collectibles.

When I get upset about things, I tend to overreact in the completely opposite direction. As in, when breaking the news to people, I somehow find myself grinning away like a crazy person. The more uncomfortable and emotional I get, the brighter my nervous smile gets. I come from a long line of emotional repressors, which is why hearing a phrase like, "I know he ran over you and paralyzed you for life and now you can only eat pudding through a straw, but ... there's no need to get angry" isn't an unlikely thing to hear around the dinner table. Should that happen. Which I hope it doesn't because, really, I don't even like pudding.

Then again, what do I know. Everything I know about feelings was learned while channel surfing a 15 minute snippet of Dr. Phil.

So usually I just generally don't know how to react to strong displays of emotion outside of a Mariah Carey album, and even then, usually my gut reaction is to sing along with my eyes closed, making fists with my hands.

Here is a hot picture of me, so I can feel pretty:




I know how to dress well. This is how you show the world your turquoise bra.

Breaking up is a different sort of experience though. I have no idea how to play the whole breaking up game, either. I keep getting warnings about appearing like the crazy ex, and now I've found out that there's a certain interval of time where you just don't contact the person at all, and, Christ, really .... breaking up may be harder than the last eight months combined. After the break up I sat on the computer, blaring the Eagles' "Lying Eyes"** and trying to figure out a way to break the news of my cancelled relationship to Facebook. On the plus side, at least I don't have to shave my legs in December.

I am sounding a lot more cavalier about all this then I really am, but I excel at making jokes out of awful situations. You don't even want to how inappropriate I can be at a funeral.

*Toddler because... when was Against All Odds written? 1984? And as a one year old I'm sure I knew a lot about emotionally crippling heartbreak.

**I have no idea why I am so enamoured of Lying Eyes, considering neither one of us forayed into the torrid streets of "the cheatin' side of town." Just wait until I break out the Whitney Houston.

Labels: Sarah Land

Last night I went out to a fancyish sort of dinner. I dressed up -- kind of. Lately I have been wearing the same outfits almost all the time -- either my brown velvet skirt with red knee high socks, my new pair of jeans that DON'T FALL DOWN, AND THIS IS AWESOME, or glaringly bright plaid hot pink pajamas bottoms ....because I like to be as fashionably offensive as possible before going to bed.

And yes, KNEE HIGH SOCKS. They are amazing. I throw them on and my legs are all warm and suddenly I'm transported back to my childhood church days, wearing white knee high socks with the Scottish kilt my mom forced me to wear. Sock Dreams is an amazing company specializing in socks, which is brilliant, because now I can finally buy tons of socks ... and lose the second sock of each pair almost immediately.

So, I go to this dinner, wearing niceish clothes. I have pretty excellent manners -- god forbid I ever know which piece of cutlery is my desert fork, and I used to use my knife and fork in a sort of retarded jabbing motion for about three years too many, but I don't eat with my hands or use my sleeves as a napkin so.... I'm doing well.

However, it doesn't matter how well your motor skills can wield a fork, if you are clumsy -- which I am. And unfortunately, we had shish kebobs. Delicious, awesome, amazing shish kebobs skewered with roasted red onions, tomatoes, zucchini and chicken, but the first time I very politely attempted to slip a chunk of chicken off my skewer I used a little too much force and that piece of chicken.... soared across the room and hit the wall.

It might not have been noticed if I hadn't made a sound, somewhere between an illegible groan and a totally inappropriate "Fuuuuuck", while reaching over as nonchalantly as possible to retrieve my momentarily airborne poultry, but everyone at my table very politely continued on with conversation.

Until I dropped my knife. It slipped off the table, cascaded off my lap, and landed on the floor with a clatter akin to an atomic bomb.

Now, I am pretty ample in the breast department which is mostly awesome, unless you're in track and field in Grade Nine and your gym teacher pulls you aside to talk about bra support, but this can make for an incredibly huge landing area for things like, oh, I don't know... squash soup. I dare you to find a big breasted woman who has not once ever sloshed some sort of food all over her top -- it's like food can't keep itself from leaping off your spoon and ruining your favourite goddamn sweater.

The restaurant that we ate at included a section with incense, consignment clothing, sandalwood soap and various fleece socks, pine salve, chocolate kiss lip balm and various other bits of wonder, and I couldn't stop myself from shopping after dinner. ... which is why I eventually came home with a new black shirt and, for the first time since I was 12 and owned the largest collection of cotton sweatshirts featuring adorable painted prints of puppies in vibrant gardens and kittens resting in patches of sunlit staircases in Canada, I bought a Northern Reflections top. Because I can hear Sarah in Thunder Bay clapping her hands with glee all the way over here in Masset, I will say it doesn't feature any barnyard animals drinking from collected dishes of rainwater or loons resting peacefully on tranquil pond surfaces, but it does have faded brown-pink flowers peppered across green cotton and it's the most comfortable thing ever. I don't know why I'm not wearing it right this minute in fact.

I just love the idea of going to a fancy dinner and then shopping thriftily afterwards.

Some time after me and Ann made NACHOS!! and watched 'Ratatouille' while I pet her cat, who was alternately licking my hand and biting me as though trying to figure out how delicious I might taste.

Labels: Sarah Land, Stories

My plans to turn this into a portfolio didn't go as planned because dial up ensures I can ftp a single JPEG and then travel to and from China while it uploads, and also, I got sleepy. I'm on my seven long, long, long days off now, alternating shifts by week intervals which stretches into long periods peppered with random adventures and sometimes, extreme bouts of boredom.

But, ultimately, boredom has been good for me. I've read nearly every book on my bookshelf, including ones that I've been meaning to get around to for years. I've started sewing... my handbag looks like it was stitched together, while drunk, using my teeth in place of my hands, but it's still coming along. Bust Magazine and Amy Nieto turned me on (literally) to ReproDepot vintage fabrics, and I have a huge hard on to purchase their entire fabrics library by November.

However, I can't do that quite yet because I just blew two hundred dollars online in clothes. From shoes with teeny tiny rainbows all over them, to pink and purple Alice in Wonderland knee socks to a dark brown hoodie with a giant owl patch on it, I am all over Torrid like a cheap suit. I have also been talking myself in and out of a "Same Shirt Different Day" tshirt from PalmerCash, while also considering proclaiming my love for "Getting Lucky In Kentucky" Jack Black style, and wearing it around my little village.

Last night I ran into a door. Granted, I'd had one glass of wine, but that was diluted with large amounts of 7-Up. None the less, I banged half my face against hard wood and a big bruise is currently blossoming down my face, starting at my eyebrows, which gives me suitable excuse to just not pluck for a good couple weeks, and hope that my eyebrows grow into huge bushy scary old man caterpillars sprouting out from my face. I think it, ultimately, would be really romantic. Well, at any rate. I am graceful.

Wow. I have just randomly chosen a song to listen to on the computer, and it appears to be a Kenny G cover of I Will Always Love You, which signals that I must get going... so I can sway around the house with my eyes closed, sensually playing along with my own phantom clarinet.

Labels: Sarah Land

I'm the kind of girl who likes to stay in on the weekend... to revamp her website. Although, it's not like this weekend isn't going to feature a whole lot of activity that I can rock with my special brand of social retardation, like when I get flustered and replace any assemblance of English language with strange gutteral sounds that, FYI, actually mean, "Hey, how are you? That is a neat shirt."

I should really just hand out an English to Sarah dictionary so people can understand what I'm talking about when I get flustered because OH MY GOD, EVERYONE IS LISTENING TO MY STORY ABOUT HOW THIS ONE TIME, THE ANGLICAN WOMEN'S CHURCH SOCIETY FOUND A COUPLE "COPULATING" ON THE CHOIR STAIRS. And then my entire face goes bright red, and I seem to lose the ability to form vowels.

Yesterday, I woke up as per usual at 7:00 to get ready for work, only when I wake up for 7 I like to press snooze four or five times. So I was trying my hardest to get ready and do an incredibly attractive sweaty power walk to work in under five minutes, except that I didn't pay nearly enough attention to my wardrobe choices. I arrived at work on time, but immediately realized that I was wearing... lavender scrub pants with a bright green shirt over top. ...Like the Joker.

I am actually in desperate need of new scrubs. I bought a lavender set last May, but the shirt is about twenty miles too big on me, and I discovered yesterday that one of my favourite pair of work pants has a super attractive hole right in the crotchal region. If I don't do something about this soon I'm going to have to cut holes into a tarp and don it as fashionable lab gear.

In other news, I am back on my island and autumn is in the air! There aren't a lot of multicoloured trees here, which is something I miss, along with the crisp apple-y smell of my Uncle Jim's orchard and the excitement of buying spiral bound notebooks, pens and other random school supplies in September. I have had to physically stop myself from buying binders and fun erasers which is something I'm going to go crazy for next fall when I go back to school.

That's right! I'm going back to school! I'd like to take teaching, so I'm going to apply real soon and will be leaving here sometime in the early winter. I'm currently figuring out how to transport all my random crap with me via lengthy trips across the ocean.

In the meantime, this blog might disappear for a little while. I haven't been updating a whole lot -- from travelling around Canada (me and Brad went through Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan and BC in two days because we are reckless and dumb.) to sewing handbags (I started one last night. It looks like it was sewn by a toddler and I accidentally sewed the strap in the bag... along with four or five currently trapped needles, but it's going to be awesome.) to eating deer... for the first time ... ever! (I am pretty excited about this. I might tattoo it onto my body.)

But, for those of you who want to know what's happening blog wise -- if I move it somewhere else, or for those of you who just want to keep in touch, email me here: storeboughtzen@hotmail.com. I am also a lemming and joined Facebook, so add away.

In the words of my beloved Sarah Silverman, Keep it Sleazy Beazy's.

Labels: Sarah Land

I've been pretty AWOL lately, but that's mainly only because I've been working so hard at fulfilling my dream of becoming the world's greatest female rapper. Any day now someone will recognize my talent, but until then, I've just been recording myself over tracks by Timbaland and DMX on my audio cassette tape player.

But, no, for reals, things have been crazy. My two best friends are now getting married three days apart, and I am going to have to rock both receptions verbally and physically with a little bit of my super awesome interpretive dance moves. I was thinking I might even take a page from "So You Think I Can Dance" by covering the wedding dance floor with leaves and soft lighting, and frolicking around, gently, before pausing and raising my arm up, and looking off into the distance, like I'm seeing something emotional, and touching, and beautiful... like Mariah Carey's Butterfly album.

I actually must go now and wipe off the stairs with a J cloth... my life is nothing if not glamourous, but I will try to update soon with more pictures, more stories, and more references to albums I used to listen to when I was an emotionally troubled 14 year old.

Because nothing describes my teenage pain more thoroughly than The Spice Girls Spice World soundtrack.

__________________________________________________________-

LATER ...

So I helped Sarah E make wedding favours. Everyone will know which ones I made because the papers will be cut crooked and the bags will look like they were tied by a five year old.

I also went back to my old cleaning job for the night, which was pretty exciting. It's weird how all the old habits fall back in place... collecting garbages, washing dishes, an inspiring impromptu musical made for one, cleaning toilets.

I am counting down the days to the weddings (Five days until Sarah's, three days until Melissa's!!) and also down to Wednesday when Jamie and Brad fly into town and we can all have multiple adventures involving numerous high fives and a bevy of freeze frames.

In the meantime, I'm taking it Sleazy Beazy's, and rediscovering all of the crap I left behind in Thunder Bay when I moved last year .... including a ton of Home and Garden magazines whose purpose I cannot even begin to fathom. I'm beginning to suspect I have a multiple personality disorder, which might explain why I've highlighted certain passages in the magazine that spoke of fertilizer importance, or the magnetic photo album I found full of obituaries and... pictures of porcelain dolls, or my entire high school career.

Labels: Sarah Land

Me overlooking a bridge in a park that looks a lot like the one Sarah recites her play lines in in Labyrinth.

Labels: Sarah Land, Travels

In June I left the QCI by ferry for pale, lazy, wedding-filled summer adventures. I eagle-eyed the choppy ocean waters for dolphins and orca whales, and managed to see Something. It kind of looked like a lump arching underneath the waves, but I'm pretty sure it was like, a giant man-eating squid and we all just barely escaped with our lives. Like, positive.

This afternoon I'm on a quest for a corset, so that I can keep the Girls in check while wearing Sarah E's strapless bridesmaid gown. We all got to pick our own styles and I chose a bare shoulder cut with material around my arms, since I'm apparently waging a seemingly endless battle with them and they need to be hidden by as much available material as possible. Unfortunately, having giant bra straps hanging out doesn't necessarily equate to classyness. And I'm the kind of girl who jogs pantsless down the beach on a dare, so I know a thing or two about class.

Labels: Sarah Land

So I was thinking about changing my name to an incoherent sound. Possibly changing it to the girlish "uhhh" sound that Prince makes at the beginning of "Kiss", or maybe even to the chorus of "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" by Cutting Crew. OH MY GOD YES. I see nothing wrong with getting a little entertainment whenever someone addresses me. It would help if I legally enforced my right that an energetic emotionally touching closed fist accompany my name. "Oh, I just died in your arms tonight" Sovereign, ... I would pretty much find every and any way to get others to say my name in a public forum, particularly through the help of the court system.

It's not that I want to commit crimes, it's just that if you're going to change your name to something retarded, you may as well use it to make a court stenographer's life that much harder. No reason really, except that maybe they've always struck me as a little smug, with their super impressive shorthand typing, striking things from the record like they were God's gift to the legal system. When really, I could totally be a court stenographer... except instead of typing shorthand I'd just video tape everything and then cut it all together to a pleasing, yet dramatic soundtrack. Possibly a little something from National Treasure Bryan Adams.

So tomorrow is Melissa's birthday and today I made a surprise birthday cak for her. It was supposed to be marbled, as the super detailed cake box promised but I accidentally, likely because the three instructions on the back of the box were entirely too difficult, especially coupled with demonstrative illustrations, sprinkled all the chocolate cake powder onto the top where it sat for the entirety of the cooking process ... and kind of burned a little. Luckily, I am a ninja with icing and NO ONE IS ANY THE WISER.

I then cut up the entire cake into the shape of Melissa... except.. Melissa without legs... and hands... and wearing a witch hat that looks more like an unbalanced puzzling triangle sitting on top of her head. When I used coloured icings to draw on her face, the final result looked a little like the female Gremlin from Gremlins 2, or, coincidentally, what I look like when I wear too much rouge.

Labels: Sarah Land

Life has been crazy! Beyond pure laziness in regards to the blogging world, I've been busy busy busy. I'm even busy right now in fact, because I'm supposed to be putting pants on and getting ready to go camping but... my pants are all the way upstairs and ... right now, that's just too far. Luckily I am wearing a skirt. People can totally go camping in skirts, or so I've heard. I don't have a lot of camping experience. Mostly I'm excited about bringing the portable dvd player out into the wild so I can watch the Goonies in a totally different location.

The house is full of kittens and jamhanded children presently and I have only recently fully understood the lure of French Vanilla yogurt with honey, granola and currants with a dash of cinnamon. All of you need to rush to your local grocery store and score some of this right now because it's awesome and I may never eat anything else again. LIKEWISE, if any of you are living in big city centers, you should do what I did when I visited Chilliwack last week and... go to Superstore to clap your hands and stare longingly at all the different brands of yogurt. "I've never even heard of that brand before!" you could say, while your boyfriend gazes at you because you're an adorable little tard.

Poking people with sharp implements is going really well and I'm still not sick of getting into the lab every morning and donning my lab coat. Wearing a lab coat will increase anyone's coolness quotient like, ten fold. I'm positive. Somewhere out there, there is a graph that proves this.

The Island is quickly becoming overrun with mosquitoes and at night I can hear a whole chorus of frogs, underneath the moon and stars, singing away in the long green grass. The other day I went swimming in the ocean with my pants on and it still wasn't as cold as midnight swimming in Lake Superior in the middle of July. I barely had any signs of hypothermia! It was almost a letdown except for the fact that I SWAM. IN THE OCEAN. AND WASN'T EATEN BY MAN HUNGRY SHARKS. Because honestly, this has been a concern.

We go to the beach as often as possible, piling into Pearl with hot dogs and jube jubes and water-damaged books for reading. The music comes on and suddenly we are all belting out songs and dancing Ping Island Rescue style through roads covered in rainforest trees, edged with still pools of dark water.

And Chilliwack! Last week! To hang out with Jamie, who is awesome and totally ninja-ing his way into my heart. From driving adventures in his van, to Spiderman 3 featuring the most emo Spiderman ever (Tobey Maguire, taking a break from dying his hair with a black Sharpie marker to cut a rug on film as only emos can.) to BOSTON PIZZA! and getting totally overwhelmed at Superstore because there are more people in there than on the entirety of the QCI maybe.

I even took him to his very first church event, which was my dad's surprise 10 year ordination anniversary, which was attended by many people, including the Dark Lord of the Sith. We were all pretty honoured that Palpatine took time out of his busy schedule and stuff. At this event, because I love my mom, I even sang publically with her to the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas. Although, really, who am I kidding, I am my father's daughter and you don't have to ask me twice to sing in public. Most of the time I am already up there, wresting the microphone out of someone's hand and showing them all my awesome hand actions to The Divinyl's "I Touch Myself".

Just wait until your wedding, Sarah Etter. I'm going to bring out the big guns.

Labels: Sarah Land

So I finally got a new nose stud for my nose ring. I got the nose ring.... August of 2005, so I may be a little embarrassed about how much time it's taken me to switch that thing up, but yesterday, with a handy pair of pliers, her finger, and some magical nurse finesse, Melissa managed to exchange my blue bead ring with a tiny little silver flower.

Except I kind of went from giggling like a tard at the fact that Melissa had her digit wedged up my nostril, to closing my eyes and praying to Jesus that the ring didn't slip out and rip out my nostril. I am pretty sure I saw that in a movie once. I am guessing it's painful.

Also, because Melissa and I are super productive, we rearranged the living room! Melissa has awesome ideas because this whole place looks like, ten billion times better! The tv is up on the buffet, so it's almost like being in a theatre except nobody is dimming the lights for us and I can't smell the obscene body odor of the guy behind me. Just Melissa's body odor. Which is fine because she smells like RAINBOWS and UNICORNS.

It was great because this gave us a really superb set up to watch Brokeback Mountain yesterday.

Or at least to watch like, the first forty minutes and then get distracted by KITTENS!!!

Labels: Sarah Land

So life has been busy because I've had a lot of things to update in Facebook. God forbid a day goes by without people I knew back in 1988 getting an up-to-the-minute status on what I'm doing at any particular moment.

Here's what's been going on while I've been all lax in Sarah Land:

1) KITTEN UPDATE 2007: They are doing awesome. Matilda is currently curled up beside me on the couch feeding them all. Her little mouth is all open and she's passed right out. Kittens are exhausting. Their eyes are open. Pretty soon I'm going to teach them how to Shadow Box. For money. ... from the neighbourhood children. Hah.

2) I'm working as a Lab Aid at the hospital. It's all 100% awesome. Sadistically enough, I think taking blood is fun. I'm learning a whole lot about paperwork and filing and I get to use a bevy of super exciting stamps. When I was a kid I used to go to work sometimes with my dad, and he'd give me free reign over all the office supplies. I'd curl up under his desk and randomly stamp "EXUCON" onto all of my books and doodlings, then I'd staple it all together and gently caress the many highlighters available for my office-supply-loving jam hands. I'd finish the whole day by consuming my weight in Jolly Rancher's candies. Anyways. My point is, office supplies rock my world. Don't even get me started on how fun it is to shred paper.

3) I met this guy. I like him a whole lot more than stamps, which is saying a lot. I could go into a whole huge list of all the things I like him more than (more than kittens, even!) but I don't have enough room, Internet. I am all giddy and dreamy and giggly these days and it's possible half the town thinks I'm a massive needle-toting tard, but ... it's all awesome.

4) Spring is here! This morning the town was covered in thick, thick fog, but the sun is finally out and the sky is blue. Daffodils are sprouting everywhere and pink buds are starting to line the bushes across the way. I walk to work every morning and I walk home every afternoon and those meandering strolls, listening to music on my MP3 player, are quickly becoming my favourite parts of the day.

5) Some bands the world needs to have a listen to: Nouvelle Vague (Melissa introduced me to "Too Drunk to Fuck" which is amazing, as well as this spastic little number where she's all, "Jesus wouldn't like it!" ... I love it all. Kings of Leon - "Taper Jean Girl". I love this song. I once had tapered jeans and therefore feel like I can TOTALLY connect. Lisa Loeb's entire album "Tails" is great. "Sandalwood" is my favourite song of the moment. "Your hair falls soft like animals" ? It's like you took those lines from the pages of my heart, Lisa.

Labels: Sarah Land

So I turned 24 the other day and all is grand.

Pat and Phil got me a birthday cake, made out of about fifty thousand pounds of pure chocolate, and when I blew out every single last candle* Max burst out, "OH MY GOD. YOU'RE SINGLE."

Thanks, Max.

I got some pretty awesome presents, although my birthday isn't really about getting presents. (It's about cake.) Jamie sent me a kitten hat, which has been the number two item on my Birthday Wishlist** since forever, and Melissa got me Donnie Darko AND the best enchilada dinner ever, a new mug from the Pottery Lady from Mac, a necklace, eagle scarf and velvet bag (for my tarot cards) from Pat and Phil as well as .... A LOOM.

That's right. I got a freaking LOOM for my birthday! I can't even begin to express how awesome that is. I was thinking that instead of leaving notes on boring old paper for people, I might just start like, weaving them. "Gone to the store for milk," or "Susan called"... that sort of thing.

I was also thinking I might weave some tapestries featuring fluffy kittens chasing balls of yarn, and sleeping golden labradors snuggling in baskets. I think i'm going to try and incorporate everything that Northern Reflections has ever offered on a sweatshirt. And it will be AWESOME.

Honestly though, and all joking aside, I am excited and touched as hell to have received it.

Finally, I thought 24 was a good age to bring up the picture of myself where I'm at school ... without pants on. I appear to be wearing just the leotard, with a turtleneck combo, as if the extra material around my neck is going to make up for the fact that I AM NOT WEARING PANTS.

*All in all there were 26 candles because Melissa and I bought a special "2" and "4" candle from the Co-Op. "Whose turning 42?" the cashier asked and Melissa said, "She is," gesturing to me. And the guy nodded like MY BEING 42 WAS TOTALLY PLAUSIBLE. I couldn't think of any way to react to that, other than to jump across the counter and gouge out his eyes with Melissa's car keys, and I didn't think that was very civil so... I've learned to let it go. With the aid of alcohol.

**I had this great kitten hat when I was 3. It involved pom poms. I think it may have been the best hat ever made in the entire history of the 20th century.

Labels: Sarah Land, Suitcase of Memories

Brad and I waited eons too long to get our licenses, which ensured that our friends were driving our asses around for quite some time before we were able to return the favour. Melissa, Sarah E and I actually went to driving school together. We spent the entire time in the middle to back rows, not listening to the lectures whatsoever and writing top secret notes to each other on the backs of our super important driving lesson handouts.

We still talk about the time Melissa accidentally poked Claude's ("My NAME is pronounced CLODE.") bum, and we thought it was the most hilarious thing she had ever done because we'd just spent six hours sitting in a dimly lit room learning about what the dash in the middle of the road signifies and we disrupted the entire class with our laughter until Roger, our instructor, had to look pointedly at us while clearing his throat.

Anyways. Brad still got his license before me, and at that same time also procured his very first automobile: his beloved Tempo. I am pretty sure the Tempo was made from the various parts of other dead cars, much like Frankenstein. If the Tempo could've spoken I think it might have made desperate, mechanical pleas for "Friend?" while accidentally drowning small children.

... too far?

Anyways. He had this new car, and it was amazing. Except for like, how the subs rattled the trunk so hard it was like the entire car was going to fall apart... and that whole exhaust problem. But other than that, the Tempo was AMAZING. Brad let me drive it once, when I had just gotten my licence and was still petrified at the thought of leaving the neighbourhood, and I nearly drove us off the highway and straight into the ditch with my superhuman night vision. Brad didn't let me drive it for awhile after that.

This one night though, we were all piled into the Tempo cruising through the orange lit neon streets of Thunder Bay at 3 a.m., when an old model Oldsmobile pulled up beside us. We couldn't immediately see the people inside the car, but Brad sort of revved his engine, and the Olds revved it's engine and when the light turned green we both sped off. For awhile the Olds was winning ... we were just behind it, still unable to see the people inside.

Finally, Brad slammed down the gas pedal and the Tempo, miraculously, gained speed and we cruised by the Olds.

Inside were two elderly men wearing their full military uniforms, from the pins to the World War II issue hats, and as we passed them by they saluted us.

And that is my favourite story about a car.

Labels: Sarah Land, Stories

We high five everything in this house. "You finished your homework? HIGH FIVE!" "We have a toaster? HIGH FIVE!" "Fifty cents for a mint condition copy of Fifth Business? HIGH FIVE! AND ONE MORE TO YOU, MR. ROBERTSON DAVIES!"

We also like to offer high fives, as a reward system. It isn't uncommon to hear, "Could you grab me a muffin from the kitchen? I will give you a SUPER AMAZING HIGH FIVE." Sometimes this works, and sometimes this doesn't. It depends I think on the amount of high fives already given on that day. I mean, if you've already experienced 8 or 9 high fives, the one more high five offered for you to get off your ass and go all the way to the kitchen isn't going to make that much of a difference.

But, in the middle of an 8 a.m. high five this morning I posed to Max, "What if we like, did a new high five?"

He's supposed to be getting ready for school at this point, but what the hell. It's an important question because really... I've re-invented the high five from across the room concept, but that's only going to amuse us for so long.

We tried this weird thing where you do circles in the air without your hands touching, but I'm pretty sure I saw that very same thing in Demolitian Man, and I've come to the conclusion that it's probably best to just totally distance myself from that film as much as possible. Like, I don't want people to think I'm not cool.

So, anyways, we're trying out new versions of the high five when I say, "HEY. What about a Vulcan greeting?" We did that, but ultimately decided that the Vulcan greeting shouldn't just be cheaply thrown around hither and yon.

But this lead to other topics of conversation -- precisely, the Vulcan Nerve Pinch and When Is It A Good Time To Use It.

I told Max he should wait until he meets a Vulcan who can teach him how to best implement it, and when to use it, because you don't want to just wipe out the whole playground with it and then have no one to play Yu-Gi-Oh with. Secondly, like, he should really wait until he's perfected his ninja skills, because a ninja who could incorporate the Vulcan Nerve Pinch would probably be the best, most awesomest ninja in the entire GALAXY.

And I think that's really something to strive for in life.

Labels: Adventures in Babysitting, Sarah Land

There was a chocolate lunch at the hospital today consisting of chocolate chilli, chocolate chicken and entirely too much chocolate Rolo ice cream. Also, however, there was a giant salad. I am a firm believer that vegetables entirely cancel out any sort of sugar intake. Three leafs of lettuce and a tomato or cucumber haphazardly thrown in there equates to minus twelve chocolate bars. Not that anyone ate twelve chocolate bars, it's just awfully nice to kind of have that option open.

You know, just in case you've always wanted to see what diabetes was like.

After the lunch, wired on sugar, Melissa and I had an arm wrestling contest. Melissa is one strong girl. Like, I know that none of my photographs of her have properly displayed her PIPES, but she's got them in SPADES and that is exactly how, ten seconds after starting our awesome arm wrestle, she had me pinned to the table. I could say the chocolate made me sluggish, but really. If I didn't have an injured neck, I would've been running around the hospital lawn doing cartwheels and demonstrating my prowess at round offs.

Which is to say, injuring myself and possibly mooning all the good people of Masset. I abhor belts and lord only knows how these pants manage to stay up on their own. I am the Queen of Plumber's Ass. I'm thinking about getting a sash.

Re: My injured neck, it's entirely possible my bed tried to eat me in the middle of the night, possibly ninja attacking me with pillows because I woke up one morning without being able to fully turn around, much less continue to polish my spontaneously choreographed jazz and tap routine to Sexyback. Which I'm bringing back. But apparently not while I hobble around the house like a 90 year old woman.

Things I Can't Do With My Injured Neck:
- Physical interpretation to Bonnie Tyler's "Turn Around (Bright Eyes)".
- Look left.
- Look both ways before crossing the street.
- Prop the phone up with my shoulder and my ear.
- Look down.
- Clap with zeal.
- Raise my hand to ask a question. It could happen.
- Yoga. Darn.
- Bake cookies.

The baking of the cookies doesn't seem like it would really be affected by the whole neck thing, but .... it's what I'm using to partially explain why the cookies I baked last night looked like mishapen cat heads covered in vaguely edible flour.

If I were more with it, my Valentine's Day cookie plans had included sugar cookies cut into disgruntled cat ladies, multiple cats, old newspapers from 1972 and half full bottles of bourbon. Half full because... no one ever accused me of being a pessimist.

Labels: Sarah Land

In Sarahland (Thanks, Dave, for naming the neurotic space I call My Life) things are hectic. I am moving in just over a week and still need to pack up the rest of the apartment. I have a lot of crap, but I am in a giving mood. My tendency to horde things like a dragon has given way to me pushing my beloved childhood dolls on my little cousins. "TAKE THEM PLEASE," I say in the manner of ALL CAPS. "YOU NEED THEM."

Leaving them in a box outside the Salvation Army is just much too hard. At least if I give them to my little cousins I know where they are, who they're with, and the probability of their eventual fate: eaten by rabid country dogs for plastic sustenance.

Last Saturday Laura and I had an Indoor Yard Sale. This is how I plan to have all my yard sales from now on. Indoor gives you licence to sit on a sexy boudoir couch and lazily direct others towards the pile of 150 or so VHS you're finally getting rid of. Yes, including "SPACEHUNTER: ADVENTURES IN THE FORBIDDEN ZONE". Someday, Molly Ringwald may forgive me. Indoor means you get neither wet nor sunburned, and can in all plausibility sit in relative comfort reading a Rolling Stone magazine circa 1999 about Britney Spears.

I still have three days to move out of the apartment and things are coming along slowly, but surely. As I type this, the traffic flies by outside and the boy in the basement apartment has a party with all of his cool, intimidating friends. Brad has all of his stuff moved out and the cat wanders around meowrring longingly for all the stuff that used to be here: sexy boudoir chair, television, ... lamps.

I'm moving, World.

Labels: Sarah Land

For years I have been promising to sing a song to you, Internet. A song that didn't involve screeching a sampling of the entire Mariah Carey catalog with all the hotness of a talented Mongolian Yak, or a random burst of musical joy as "WOULDN'T IT BE NICE" by the Beach Boys suddenly hits the cd player. Violently. Beautifully. Beach Boyfully.

Not that Laura and I aren't awesome beyond measuring for the above. After all, we're the kind of girls who cruise around in a minivan blaring a 1999 Monica, when the boy was still hers and no one could properly sing any of her massive run ons. EXCEPT MAYBE ME AND LAURA.

Like, we were connected even then in our love of Monica and Mariah Carey. Except that while she was chronicling the sexcapades of her rabbits with a disposable camera, I was wearing pants made out of vinyl and angst-riddenly making mixed tapes featuring Stabbing Westward, Marilyn Manson and ... the Spice Girls.

Anyways. A few years back I discovered this song ... this wonderful, magical, marvellous song that is now mainly my signature "I AM DRUNK AND YOU WILL LISTEN OR I WILL THROW THIS JAR OF PEANUTS AT YOUR HEAD" song. However, to be fair, I sing it everywhere and to everyone. There is something so deep and meaningful about the lyrics, in that way that they aren't just beautiful words ... it's also some really great advice.

And so, I present to y'all, a slightly rusty version of me singing one of my favourite songs accapella --

FUCK HER GENTLY.

Please be kind. I am no Raffi.

Also, that is CSI you hear at the beginning. I was nervous about singing in front of my iRiver apparently and had to have some