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I haven’t been getting any email sent over the last few months (or maybe longer… maybe a year?!) from the Contact Sarah link on this page. I have now updated the link with my new email address.
Duh. I guess that’s why I wasn’t getting any emails telling me that I had new comments!
This cracks me up.
Of course, I couldn’t actually break out laughing too loudly as I read it on my computer at work…
Have you ever had one of those moments driving down the road, where the modern age just sort of kicks you upside the head?
The fact that I can hurtle my body around at 60 miles an hour… and use invisible digital waves to talk to people on my cell phone.
Blows my mind.
I’m suddenly
acutely
aware
that I would rather be an artist
than an secretary.
My checking account argues:
just answer the fucking phone.
I can’t quite finish a post. There’s too much pressure to say something brilliant since I’ve been so delinquent about my blog since September. So here are all my drafts in whatever state I left them:
I’ve been dreaming about houses.
Two months ago, I dreamt that we were buying my supervisor’s house. There were all sorts of problems in the dream because they weren’t leaving and wouldn’t take their stuff so that we could move in. (The freaky part about that story is that he came into work the next day and announced that his house was on the market.)
Two weeks ago, I dreamt about a house for my sister and her family. They are looking to move into a house this year. I saw the entire layout, down to the furnace in the basement. Built in the 1940’s–single story tudor with a bashed in garage door.
Two nights ago, I dreamt about a new (old) house for our family. The backyard had a patio painted to look like a pond and every evening all the kids in the neighborhood went out to get free root beer floats. There was a door to the backyard from the dining room. We had a tractor.
I can’t tell if I’m exploring elements of my psyche or if I’m just feeling trapped by my house and all the junk we have piled into it.
When you see me at the grocery store, you never want to be stuck behind me in the checkout lane.
Even though I grew up in the city, I always felt drawn to the country. I remember visiting my great-grandparents’ farm (which is less than 10 miles from where I live now) and playing the old piano in the barn and being shown the trees that had been torn and twisted by a tornado.
The day the farm went to auction my sisters and my cousin and I played all day in the field, building cornstalk forts and making up secret signals by tossing dried ears of corn into the air.
I’ll never forget the sound of my footsteps and the sight of my breath in the cold air and the hot tears that sliced down my cheeks as I realized it would be my last time playing out in the field at grandma’s. I was probably eight years old.
Tonight I located a CD with a bunch of good old stuff to share. Scans of the slides I made from a college show, essays, photos I took as I attempted to start a business in candid portraiture… I will share more as we go along.
I know, I’ve been slacking on the posting and picture making. Last week, we received the worst of news.
A close family member has been diagnosed with a serious and life-threatening illness. As the shock wears off and I get more information about how this will affect my life in the months and years to come, I will figure out how to get back at my blog. For now, I need to excuse myself officially and temporarily.
I also need to decide just how much it’s appropriate to share in this venue. I want to respect my family member’s privacy. At the same time I can’t continue to post my cutesy little thoughts on life and gratitude and all that bullshit without acknowledging the spiritual, emotional earthquake that has just shaken up my world.
See you later.
