Step 99: Dragon Bookends.

We went shopping today. Our first stop was a thrift shop (WHICH I've become addicted to. Who knew you get so much cool stuff for so cheap?! Don't answer that.) Anyway, we were supposed to be looking for end tables. We found none, but I did find a trunk similar to the one I have that I pointed out to my sister (because she is mad jealous of my trunk). She snatched it up and plans on painting it black.

I, on the other hand, was fairly bored until I turned a corner and looked to my left and there, sitting perfectly at eye level were the most epic bookends I have ever seen. They were in the shape of dragon heads guys! I wanted them. And needed them, as I don't have bookends, but I do have a lot of books. The only real obstacle was obtaining the funding for them. I'm scraping by with less than $20 left in my account. The bookends, while awesome, are also not necessary, so I couldn't justify the purchase.

Mom?! *pleading eyes*

No! Those are awful!

Please... *PLEADING EYES*

No, they are ugly.

*sadface*

I did not get the bookends. YET.

After the thrift store, we went to the furniture store so mom could pick out new furniture to match the (BEST EVER IT'S AWESOME AND COZY AND SOFT) rug she just got. She picked out two chairs and a coffee table. So, while she was riding on her high over finding furniture she loves for cheaper than she'd expected, I asked again.

Are you SURE I can't have the bookends?

*sigh* Fine, but I'm not going in to get them.

*elated* You don't have to!

We pulled back up in front of the shop, I marched in purposefully and took hold of the Dragons that would be mine. I paid, and on the way to the car, Victor and Steven told me their names. I DID name my bookends. Judge me, I don't care. I have dragon bookends.

10, 0, 0.

Step 98: Fall Down the Stairs

I fell down the stairs today. I was carrying my laundry, and overstepped the first stair. My foot slipped and I slid down several more stairs and briefly thought I might die before stopping on the 6th step of a 14 step staircase. My ankle still feels tweaked, and I pulled a sliver out of the back of my thigh, but I'm okay. My ego didn't even have to suffer any real bruising, as the only other people home at the time were napping.

Mom made it home safely from her business trip.

She ordered a giant rug for the fmaily room. It came today, and it looks remarkably like a polar bear rug, minus the head and legs. It's awesome.

Tomorrow (finally) begis the search for a new job. I'm still hoping for something super cool and not lame.

I did get paid for the work I did a while back. I did a couple hours worth of data entry for my mom's old job. They paid me $50 an hour to do it (inorite?) and I ended up getting $175. I gave it back to my mom though, to help her pay for the outrageously overpriced room painting we had done. The dude charged $480 in labor. It took him 10 hours over the course of two days. That's $48 an hour to paint a square room. And most of one wall is taken up by a fireplace and a doorway that he didn't have to touch. Robbery, I say. Anyway, it's certainly the last time we hire him, and we'll do our best to discourage others from using him as well. He might have made $500 for the day, but he lost thousands in the future by charging that much. Stupid move.

10, 0, 0.

Step 97: A Challenger Appears

Oh what a day. Today was a day of running after T and repeating myself 800 times, just to have to run after her anyway. There was also some reverse psychology.

T has reached the stage in our relationship where she's begun testing me. I knew it was coming, and so far it's been hilariously frustrating.

Lesson's she has learned:

1. We do NOT chase the cats. Once they run away, we leave them alone, because it means they're done. (This is especially important with Toes, as he WILL bite if he's pushed too far.)

2. The unfinished and there fore unsafe for a baby back staircase will not be used by anyone under the age of 9. If such shenanigans occur, the underaged person in question WILL be escorted back from whence she came post haste.

3. There will be no strangling of the cats, no matter whether they are running or not.

4. One lollipop is plenty. You can't "just have emmyems" instead.

5. I will always be more patient than you about nap time. You will always succumb to the back patting and silence.

6. You better run, I'm gonna getchoo!

Lessons I learned:

1. A three year old caught doing something she knows is wrong is fully capable of making something up. For example, if she's caught using the back staircase, she WILL tell you she was "just trying to get the baww" even though you know for certain the ball in question was in her hand the entire time she was headed toward, started down, then came scrambling back up the Forbidden Staircase.

2. If you tell her to put her slippers on, and she says no, try telling her she'd better NOT put them on. This also works with her dinner, picking her toys up, and just about anything she initially refuses to do. Reverse psychology is your friend. For now.

3. It's a good thing toddlers don't weigh much, because physically removing them from situations will be necessary more than a few times a day.

4. You better run, I'm gonna getchoo!

5. Sweet, sweet bedtime.

Anyway, as I said, she's just testing me, and I've been consciously consistent with my reactions, so she's catching on that I mean what I say, and I will follow through. I'll still be glad when this part is over, I don't like having to Set Boundaries and Uphold House Rules every second. Sometimes you CAN eat six wowwipops in a row, dangit. >:|

10, 0, 0.

Step 96: Guy Man, Man Guy, Bro, Dude Pal.

Today was fairly uneventful. I spent it playing Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box, making and then eat spaghetti for dinner, straightening L's hair, and watching B play Uncharted 2. So...video games and food mainly.

The kids go back to school tomorrow. Reminds me I have to fix L's nails...ANYWAY.

The funniest part of today was when we were all watching B play Uncharted 2. Toes came back with us, and decided that it was man time with B. He sat in his lap, for a while he slept with his head in B's lap, then he rolled around...it really did seem like he was trying to start a rad bromance with B. It was hilrious to witness, though difficult to blog about effectively.

Anyway, slow day around here. I'm off to bed until it's time toget up and help get this kids off to school. Yay early morning. (I'm so napping once they're gone.)

10, 0, 0.

Step 95: Some Semblance of Normal.

Ever since I got to the new house, I'd been putting off unpacking "my room" and setting things up. A lot of it was because I was busy helping set things up in the main part of the house, and was too tired by the end of the day to do much in the basement beyond sigh deeply and go to bed. The rest of it was simply not wanting to do it.

For me, things like setting up a home are nigh to impossible for me to just get done. There has to be a moment when something in my consciousness click into place and I'm "ready" to get it done.

It took a couple weeks for me to finally be ready to set up the basement, and I got it done in just under three hours. (Plus the time it took for me to assemeble my bookcase and desk, but whatever, those are separate events.)

Speaking of my desk! It is fully assembled and I still love everything about it.

It's been nice to have my nice, clean space all set up, but there is one minor drawback. I decided it'd be a good idea to set up a play area for my nieces (Nephew is too old for toys, being all of 16 years old and whatnot). I failed to realize that while I'm a 10 am or later kind of kid, the girls are 8 am or earlier types. So I've not been getting to sleep in lately. Poor ickle me, ne?

It's been nice to have the kids around, all in all. They're big fans of their aunt Sarah and tend to monopolize my attention all day. T likes me to chase her through the house saying "I'm gonna getchoo!" L likes me to do girly things for her like straighten her hair and paint her nails and M likes to talk video games and wisecracks. They're cool kids.

10, 0, 0.

Step 94: So Tired.

My sister and youngest niece moved in today. My niece was totally amped to be here and have the undivided attention of three people, especially her Aunt Sarah. I spent the evening running after her and answering a million questions from "Can you get me some water?" to "Why is Toes taking a bath?"

I am drained. But T is fun.

10, 0, 0.

Step 93: 12? Really?

Today was my birthday. And it was good. It was quiet, and I stayed in my pajamas most of the day. Professional painters came and painted the family room, and it's nice to know I'll not have to do it now. I wasn't stoked about getting up before 8 am, but I lounged on the couch while they painted, so who cares?

The oddest part of the day was when we went out to dinner and the hostess asked me if I was over 12, and if she was kidding, she is spectacularly good at deadpan, because not once during the exchange did she crack a smile or hint that she was doing anything but asking a serious question. And when I said, "Actually, I'm 27 today." she gave me a perplexed look like she thought perhaps I ought to crack the "Only joking." smile.

I've always looked younger than I am, but 12? Really? Really? I mean, even the harshest critics I've encountered have put me as at least 20, more likely 22 or 23. I hope, for the hostess's sake, she is just that good at keeping a straight face.

Tomorrow I'll go pick my sister and the baby up from her mother-in-law's house. She'll be joined by everyone else this weekend. Mostly I'm looking forward to some bonding time between my iPod and I. (If I look at it that way, I won't think about the two hour drive that is still a bit of a terrifying prospect after...YOU KNOW.)

10, 0, 0.

Step 92: Build a Bookcase

So, my weekend was okay. Valentine's Day came and went and all I can really say about it is at least my car stereo didn't get stolen. That happened a couple years ago. All I got for Valentine's Day was a gaping hole in my dash where the Awesome Stereo I'd gotten as a birthday gift exactly two years prior had once been.

Speaking of birthdays! It's been mine for 35 minutes! I'm torn about it, really. The biggest part of me is excited because it's my birthday and yay me! But there's another part of me that's a little sad I haven't made much of myself these past 27 years. I suppose everyone has the Magical Age where they feel like they'll finally be an Adult, and for me that age was 27. And now, here I am, just hours from being That Age, and... :\

But, I'm ever the optimist, so I think that rather than Being There already, my 27th year will be all about Getting There. Who knows what that means, but we'll find out, yeah?

I got a fantastic L-shaped desk for my birthday, and I'll spend part of tomorrow putting it together. My old desk got moved to my nieces' room, and now I'm using a card table. The new desk is glorious and I love everything about it. There will be pictures when it's set up.

I spent part of today putting together a bookcase I've had for months now. I bought two of them, but only put one together, and today I finally resolved to put the other together. Fortunately for me, my two-year-old niece, T, was available to help. Each piece was marked with a letter, so she found them as I needed them (A-M), and then put the wooden dowels in the right holes for me. I don't know what I would've done without her! Needless to say, it was adorable, and I'm exponentially cooler in her eyes because I let her do a "big girl" job.

Still waiting of the money from the job I did. I expect it'll be here either this Friday or next.

Ten, 0, zero.

Step 91: Get Roommates

Today is an interesting day around Our House. As I type this a U-Haul is being emptied into the storage areas of the house and office add-on of the house.

Evidently things have reached critical mass at my brother-in-law's mothers house, and so to avoid the impending nuclear war, my sister, her husband and their three children are moving in with us.

It makes sense on several levels, the main one being that B's mom has 1000 square feet for seven people to live in where as we have 3500 square feet. Also, apparently B's mom hasn't let go of the idea that just because they live there it doesn't make them children, so she's weirdly controlling. And finally, B has a much better chance at getting a job in our area than he does there. (The whole reason they don't have their own house is because he got laid off as part of a downsizing...thing...at his old job.)

As for me, I'm indifferent about it as far as the Having Five Extra People In My House aspect goes. I still have my own space, so it makes no difference to me. And I'm glad to have Them Specifically here, because I like them. I mean, like any family, we have History that means we have plenty of dirty laundry, but it's all water under the bridge because...we're a family.

Anyway, just wanted to make sure I got something posted, even if it wasn't even a little interesting. Heh.

10, 0, 0. (Though the earned zero should be changing soon, as I've earned a bit of Cash on the Side recently. Will post the amount when I receive it.)

Step 90: More Babbling

So I was just sitting here and thinking about what I ought to post today, since I'm still a vastly uninteresing person, but I did...sort of...commit to this blog, and somehow my thoughts wandered to Someday When I'm a Famous Author, and I'll be required to give speeches about my writings.

This morphed into me making up a speech as I went along, while blinking through crappy high school stage lights and trying to distinguish between the faces of the teenagers who are mostly only glad they got out of fourth period to hear this whozit blather at them.

The speech I was giving in my mind had nothing to do with any of my stories, and had instead to do with the fact that I was giving a speech, and how it really didn't seem to match up with who I am. A transcript of this speech, more or less:

See, the thing you need to remember about writers is that we are a deeply introverted people. Our lives literally consist of spending hours, alone, observing the goings on of the characters in our heads. Even in our imaginations we're prone to people watching rather than joining in (unless we're writing in first person, which doesn't count, because then we aren't ourselves, we're someone else). So, for me to stand up here and try to talk to all of you...at once...alone...is a little uncomfortable.

I mean, I was a thespian in high school, I see you giggling jocks, I said THESPIAN with a T-H and a P, not an L and a B. So, as a th--member...participant in my school's speech and theater team, I got used to having to speak like this, but it still feels unnatural.

I have learned, however, that the trick is to just keep forming words and vomiting them out. Verbal diarrhea is a good thing, in a public speaking environment. It's also important to remember that anyone younger than you is considered a "kid" and kids think words like "vomit" and "diarrhea" are funny, so you should try to use them in your speech as well. More than once, if you can. Vomit and diarrhea.

Anyway, back to what I was talking about with the writing. Writing is one of those things that is fun when you think you're doing a great job, but stressful when you think you're doing a terrible job. Writers are a little masochistic, because most of the time you're going to be absolutely certain that you're doing a terrible job. And also most of the time, everyone is going to agree with you. Especially if they intend to make money off you. They're going to want your goth character to wear a pink tank top and white short shorts, because everyone wants the goth kid to turn mainstream just once. They're going to want the bitchy, popular despite her being a jackass cheerleader to fall on her face, tear her skirt and flash the whole school, because complete humiliation is the only thing that brings those girls down a notch. And they aren't going to care that your goth character isn't secretly dreaming of the day she can don Barbie's wardrobe. They aren't going to care that your cheerleader, in your mind anyway, is a thinking, feeling human being and that her outward asshattery has more to do with a volatile home life than with some innate jerk gene.

And sometimes, despite your best arguments, you're going to have to give the publishers what they want. And it will hurt. But you'll keep writing. Because, as I said, you have to be sort of masochistic to be a writer.

I should note that it's also a good idea to throw a few mild swears into any speech you give to teenagers, because it shocks them a little, and sometimes makes them pay attention to you, instead of to the time and whether the speech they aren't listening to will also get them out of fifth period History. Vomit and diarrhea.

...SO YEAH. That's the speech I gave in my head, at least up to the point where I decided I'd blog it instead of keep wandering back and forth across an imaginary stage.

I imagine it would have continued in that vein, ending with the pre-established inside joke, "Vomit and diarrhea." Then they'd all clap, and there would be a question and answer session that involved mainly questions from the teachers, and perhaps a couple from the overachievers. The bookish kids would be dying to ask me something brilliant, but their introversion would keep them silently in their seats hoping and praying a teacher would read their mind and ask for them. (They wouldn't.) And then there'd be the special treat of everyone who wanted one getting a signed copy of my book, if they'd just line up. And pretty much everyone would want a signed copy, because either they liked me, or they liked my book (which their English teacher will have ordered them to read the week before my speech), or they wanted to cut into 5th period History class a little more.

Right. This post was aptly titled, I think. And I'll be shutting up now. kthxbye.

Ten, nada, zip.

Step 89: Just Thinking

The other day, while perusing the blogs I always peruse, I read in The Hayleylujah Chorus that the author, Hayley (duh), keeps journals and blogs and things because somewhere in her she feels like she's a character in a novel.

This struck me in two ways. The first, and most important, being that I totally understood what she was saying. I identified with it.

The second was in the realization that someone who is nearly a decade younger than me was able to define the indescribable "why" I've been trying to find for ages.

I, too, fancy myself to be the main protagonist of some deeply fascinating novel. And even were I to type out "But I know I'm just plain old Sarah." without the quotes, I wouldn't believe it. It would be something "My character" would say. Because part of being a good protagonist is believing that you are ordinary, unspecial, and comepletely overlooked. Then, when the climax of the story comes, it's that much more amazing that it happened to Plain Old Sarah.

So, despite the realists of the world that would tell me I'm not going to learn I'm the princess of a dying civilization, nor am I only hours away from inheriting millions from an eccentric great-uncle who drew my name from a hat, I'm going to keep believing that I am a character in a best-seller. THE character in a best-seller.

Now all I have to do is wait for my birthday, because the Real Hogwarts Letters come when you turn 27.

Ten, zero, zero.

Step 88: A Recap

I was browsing through the past couple entires to see what I've talked about recently, and I realized I forgot to mention the calamity that was the day I actually left South Dakota. In between the minor and major catastrohpes there ought to have been a calamity. (Is Mercury in retrograde or something? I dunno.)

Anyway, I think the old spook house tried it's best to keep me there the day I left. It pulled out all kinds of interesting tricks.

First, the night before the movers came, I found myself struggling in vain to paint my green walls back to white, with primer. You know, paint that made specifically to cover obnoxious paint colors? The first couple walls went beautifully, and I was able to cover them in just two coats, but when I moved to the third and fourth walls, things went bizarre. For some strange reason, even after FIVE COATS of primer, green paint was still showing through, like the walls were just drinking in the primer. Finally, when the 5th coat still proved ineffective, I gave up.

The next day, the movers came to pack our things. The lead guy, also the driver, decided he'd take on the kitchen, while the other three guys took the rest of the house. AS they worked, the lead guy seemed to be getting nowhere in the kitchen, filling box after box, while the rest of the guys were breezing through everything else. Since they really couldn't start loading the truck without the driver's direction, him being in the kitchen was inconvenient. It seemed like there were about 15 boxes of kitchen goods, and yet once they got here? Only six. But everything is here and accounted for.

As the day went on, the electricity in the house started to blink in and out, at first for less than a second, but by the time the truck was being loaded, it was blinking off for two minutes at a time. It wasn't a big deal, except that the guys were trying to pull things out of the windowless storage room, and it was impossible to see in the pitch dark.

Then, once everything was moved to the garage, the garage door randomly started to come down on it's own. It happened to be as one of the guys was walking through it, and his foot kicked through the sensor to stop it closing, but it was that point at which the guys all really believed my casual stories about a "ghost" in my house.

Finally, the truck was loaded and all that was left was to round up the cats, sweep through the house to pick up the big garbage (a friend of mine did the scouring and scrubbing for us once I left), and hit the road. Toes was an easy catch as 1, he likes to be held and 2, he likes car rides. Missy, on the other hand, is always a challenge as she HATES being held and she LOATHES car rides. And of course, she'd chosen the windowless storage room to hide in.

I should remind everyone that I am a dark-o-phobe, and more than a few seconds exposure brings on the full song and dance, feeling like I'm going to die, heart racing panic attack associated with most crippling, irrational fears.

So, I go down to the basement and flip on the lights. I wait a few moments to ensure the electricty is steady, then I head into the storage room. I go over to the scary under the stairs place where Missy usually hides, and right as I peek in to look for her, the electricity shuts down with a POP! Naturally, I flee back out to the main room in the basement (that has a window, and therefore light, and breathe deeply while trying to tell myself it's just weird timing and the rain outside (though it's just a light drizzle, and not even freezing at that...). On a whim, I simply call to Missy, hoping she'll come out of the dark on her own, and to my utter amazement, she does, and right to me! Excellent. I put her in the car, and I'm free!

I should mention that I'd done the garbage sweep before getting the cats, and my car was already backed out of the garage, in case of anymore garage door shenanigans. /clearing up confusion

So, the house is locked up, no going back now, just fill my gas tank and get on the road.

Except that since I forgot to keep the kennel out, and the movers didn't even realize we had cats, both of them are loose in the car (not ideal, but they usually settle down and stay put after the first half hour or so). I go to pay for my gas and grab some road munchies and an energy shot (which I tried for the first time, and would recommend for anyone looking for a one-time, but certainly non-habitual energy boost, as it made me just feel like I Was Not going to fall asleep at the wheel, without making me feel like I was also going to spaz out and start twitching). When I get back to the car, Ican see Toes at the window all "HI, MOMMY! 8D 8D" But I figure Missy's back in hidey-hole land and I'll not see her until I get to the new house. Guess who was incorrect?! Guess! ME! I WAS!

I'd barely opened the door wide enough for her to fit went a flash of grey darted out of the car. I held onto the very tip of a tail before the hairs came off in my hand and Missy was no longer visible.

Awesome. I'll now spend the next twelve hours trying to get her out, in sopping wet, cold weather that's only supposed to get worse as the night falls.

Fortunately, The House's poweres were weakened from that distance, and a fantastic young couple helped me get her out by crouching on one side of the car and crackling candy wrappers while I called to her from the other side, and she came right to me for the second (perplexingly uncharacteristic) time that day. After that it was smooth sailing, and as far as the new house goes, it is fantastically devoid of any paranormal activity, good bad or just weird.

I love this house, which is good, being that we closed on it on Friday, and it is now Ours Until Further Notice.

Tensandaire, zero, zero.

Step 87: A Major Catastrophe

So, I've been gone for a bit, but with good reason. I moved, and no longer live in South Dakota. I live in Missouri now, and so far I really really like it! We're closing on our house tomorrow and I'm excited about it, even though it's technically not my house. I'm excited for my mom, I guess, because she's wanted her own house for ages, and now she's got a perfect one.

Anyway, once I got here and helped get some semblance of an organized home set up, I took off to Minnesota to visit one of my BFF's, J and her husband, D. It was a great time once I got there, but not so much on the way. See, I had the brilliant idea to just print off driving directions and go, without also checking the weather. By the time I got to Des Moines, the snow was falling so heavily on I-35 that 45 mph was living on the edge speed-wise. It was stressful, but I managed to make it most of the way without incident.

Then, about 40 miles from my destination, disaster struck. I was on MN-109, a road that Rand McNally told me I should take, and also a road that, if it was plowed, it was by the new guy who didn't know how to put the blade all the way down. The road surface was entirely white, and I was driving down the middle of it, because I couldn't see any lines to know where my side ended. All was well for quite a ways, until there was an oncoming car. I slowed down from 45 to 30, and moved over to let it pass. I moved over a shade too far, and my tires slipped off the road. The wheel-jerk that happened as a result of the startle reflex was enough to set my car fish-tailing, then a chunk of ice sent it spinning, and then careening backward into the ditch.

When my car stopped, I uttered a profanity, realized that I was fine, and so was my car, other than now being stuck in two feet of snow.

Enter The Oncomer. Turns out it was a Very Awesome Dude who not only dug my car out, but flagged down two more Awesome Dudes to help push it out of the ditch and back onto the road, where the last 40 miles of my trip took three hours to drive, with me anxiety-ing all over myself the whole way. Also, I called my mommy and had a break down once it was all over.

It was totally one of those moments like when you're a kid, and you get hurt, and you act like it didn't hurt at all, until you see your mom, then you become a big sopping mess of IWANTMYMOMMY. Here's how it went.

Me, to myself: "I'm fine, I'm cool, I'm just gonna let her know what happened."
*phone rings*
Mom:"Hello?"
Me:"...MOMMYYY!?!!?!"
Mom: "WHAT?!"
Me:"I'm fine, but I went in the ditch and three guys pushed me back onto the road and my car's fine, but I needed to call my mommy and have a breakdown and cry a little."
Mom: "You're okay?"
Me: "Yeah."
Mom: "Do you want to stop, and I'll come get you?"
Me: "No, I'm only 40 miles out."
Mom: "Are you sure?"
Me: "I'll be fine, I just needed to cry to my mama."
Mom: "Okay, well, call me if you want to stop, or when you get there."

Which, how awesome is my mom for offering to come get me when I'm on mile 360 of a 400 mile trip? XD Anyway, once I got there J hugged me and I felt better, until I went to bed and began dwelling on all the thousands of things that could have happened and while I'm aware that I should feel lucky that all it took was three guys and some digging, I'm still dealing with "what if" anxiety. I think it's all part of processing the traumatic event.

The next night, J's dog had a moment and wound up biting me in the face (I'm not even a little mad at him, and infact feel worse for him and how bad he felt than I did for myself and my face). Actually, the bite didn't even hurt, though the skin under my eye tore and needed a butterfly closure and will likely scar (COOL!). I think by the time the adrenaline wore off, it was done hurting. Now it just feels bruised when I push on it.

The day after that, though, was awesome, as we spent it at the Mall of America. I grew up going every weekend, as we lived in the Cities, but it's fun to go back and see how it's constantly changing. We visited the Aquarium, incuding a behind the scenes tour, I pwned the mirror maze (and even had to go in backward to help J and D find their way out). There was shoe shopping and Godiva chocolate and meals at both Fuddrucker's and Ruby Tuesday, and it was nothing but a great day. The only downer was having to come home early because another snoowstorm is set to wreak havoc tomorrow, and I didn't want to be a part of it.

So yeah. That's where I've been.

I earned nothing, spent about $50, and am a tensandaire.