Seriously, FedEx?

Ok. So. I am currently touring the Big Ten conference in preparation for Nebraska joining the big leagues. We have had an awesome time so far visiting Iowa City, Minneapolis, Madison and Chicago and now we're onto Michigan. Well, apparently FedEx has some personal issues with the state that we were not aware of. And I'm talking the state of Michigan, not Nebraska. Or, maybe they are just playing it that we and they really do have it out for us.

I had 3 boxes shipped last week to arrive in East Lansing on Monday. No dice. Then, they wouldn't let us come pick them up. Lots of yelling ensued. Boxes rerouted to Columbus, Ohio.

The office overnighted a supplemental box to get us through tonight, should arrive at 8 a.m. It's now 10 a.m. and we have been sitting in the hotel lobby stewing.

FedEx, you're on the outs and I will make it a priority to always ship with another company.

Let's hope that Ohio and Indiana have a warmer reception for us. Figuratively of course, weather wise, we're in for rain all week.

Crazy, Cupcake, Cartastrophe

It is 6:00 p.m. and I am sitting for the first time all day. Phew, I need a rest! I didn't even get my  nap in today; and it's Saturday!! What the heck? My weekend is now back on track, but let me first share with you the drama that went on. So last night, I had a wonderful night baking my second test run of chocolate cupcakes for the wedding shower I am catering for next weekend and my good friend Quinn came over for a couple rum and cokes. Quinn has just moved closer to me (we are less than 2 miles apart!) and this will most likely become a repeat occurrence. We used to both live in Omaha and every Thursday we watched the Office and enjoyed some run and coke. Once in a while we would make a homemade pizza or I would bring over a baked treat. We haven't been able to do that in soooo long that her moving closer is just fantastic.

Then....my life gets a little sticky. I wake up at a good time this morning, put on my gym clothes and head out the door for spinning class. I hop in my car and turn the key. putt putt putt. rrrreeerrrrr. Ok, no problem, I just didn't warm the car up and it's only like 30 degrees out, the car is just cold. I take off, get to the gym in good time and head into class. Man, was it a rough class. I think our instructor must have eaten one too many chocolates yesterday because she was riding us hard. I definitely hit my max watts and sustained them while beads of sweat formed and flew right off of me. And I'm talking every part of me. Forehead, ears, nose, arms, calves...you get the idea.

So I got my sweat on, stretched it out and changed out of my soaked through shirt to head to the Running Company and get my new spring shoes! Woooo!! I am so excited to get my shoes! There is a sale going on, I had a strained peroneal tendon last week and can finally walk again so the shoes are the perfect/necessary reward.

Sarah enters her car. Turns the key. putt putt putt. rrrrrreeerrrrrrr. Shit. This is so not cool now. I take off driving and it just starts whining a little too much for me. Then, I look down and oh.my.God. the service engine soon light is on! Nooooo!!! Last time this happened, the car stalled on the highway! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I pulled a U-ey and hooked it into the nearby library. Called my pops, got some advice, "nurse the car home, Sarah." "Dad, you want me to literally 'nurse' my car home? I don't think it works like that! What does that even mean!? Please tell me in car terms how to 'nurse' my car home!"

Well, apparently, I am a really good nurser and I made it home. Thank that sweet little 8 pound baby Jesus. Then, Quinn to the rescue! She knew that I had a million errands to run; cupcake needs, running shoes, my family is coming tomorrow and I needed toilet paper! And she graciously loaned me her car for the day. How lucky am I to have such a fabulous friend!?

I got all of my errands run, found some adorable edible gold glitter for my cupcakes, and got to make my two batches of sweets for the fam to test out tomorrow!!

And now, I will be heading out to meet some friends for drinks and dubachery! I foresee a great Saturday night ahead of me, even if the day started on a bit of a catastrophic note. Oh, and my fabulous mom is letting me borrow her car for the week while mine is in the shop.

What a sassy day.

Back with a Vengeance

Ok friends, apparently, I am feeling a little wild today. True that I am wearing a zebra striped cardigan (not so wild, I'll admit, but my addiction to them is uncontrollable) and my hair is in a side pony (definitely wild, but really just didn't want to curl the hair) and the sass in my normal attitude is just radiating from my body. Do I ever have a funny for you.

This past weekend was my "little sister" 's (pardon my sorority speak) wedding shower where we played hilarious games, snacked on delish quiche and frozen fruit cups and drank mimosas and bloody Mary's until we could barely legally drive home. Perfect noon hour so far, right? I am seriously so excited for my little to marry the man of her dreams. They are perfect for each other in every way. Fun-loving, hilarious, caring, sentimental and sweet cover most of their attributes, but anyone who knows them could go on for hours about this math made in Heaven. So a little pre-wedding celebration is just the ticket for this chilly February day. Enter the early surprise Bachelorette party.

Problem #1, little's real little sister isn't 21. Answer: fake ID. Now, listen, I am not condoning the use of a fake ID by a minor, but in this case hell, she's not my daughter and her mom is with us so more power to her! The really funny part comes when I tell you who's ID she has. So, I ask her what her name is and she responds with a name that could be pronounced a few different ways but I thought it sounded fishy. She hands me the ID and....Oh gawd. I know the girl. And she is kind of nuts. And she happens to be my ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend who kind of harassed me. She would be the one to give away her old ID!!! And, with as often as she frequented the bar scene, I'm surprised the bouncers at the bars didn't turn little's sister away stating that she was not who she claimed to be. I really find this more hilarious than anything and so the rest of the night, "she who shall not be named" and I pretended like we were fighting over "The Ex". I can't wait to tell my friends about this one.

That's right, the Bachelorette is in 3 weeks, but little's fantastically awesome mom thought, "hey, let's do one tonight, too!" YES. The group of ladies that hit the town to celebrate these pending nuptials was dynamite. Picture the bachelorette party from Mamma Mia! Ok, ok, so we didn't have Greece as a backdrop and we were shivering in the cold weather rather than sweating in the heat, but still....we rocked the bars like it was our bizzzzness.

The night continued with fishbowls, asking the band if we could make an announcement (I was not drunk when I did that, either, stone-cold sober...awesome) pitchers of Elk Creek Water (don't ask the ingredients, you may not drink it) one car running out of gas and having to call in a fiance to bring a canister of gasoline, dancing and of course, karaoke. A few women power ballads and a wedding tune later, and we were spent. Going out with "seasoned partiers" as I like the call the women of our upbringing, really wears you out. I slept in on Sunday and am sure to be recovered by the time I do it all over again.

Bring it on, Bachelorette, we are ready.

I'm going to get Sarah all tingly

Do you have those TV shows that you become slightly obsessed with? I'm talking like you love the music, the characters, the story lines, the intricacies of the plot that thicken throughout the season, the way in which characters change from being total creepos with no future to caring underdogs you can't help but root for. Welcome to my friday nights and "Friday Night Lights." Watch it, I promise you won't regret it.

I am also a tad in love with one of the stars. Obviously. I mean what girl in her 20's isn't in love with an actor on a show, cliche, I know. But let me tell you, my friend Heidi is definitely going to marry Chase Crawford. We compared their answers to his quiz in People and it's obvious they're meant to be. Now they just need to meet. Well, Zach Gilford is my Chase Crawford and he is a keeper.

Luckily, I have allies in my coworkers when it comes to my love for FNL. In order for you to understand, please take note of the photo. Yes, that is a published study guide to FNL seasons 1-mid 4. We have a Friday Night Lights Lunch Club and discuss topics, plots, characters, what we want to happen. You may think this sound a little odd, but the writer behind our study guide is absolutely hilarious. He adds his own little anecdotes and comments like calling the 17 year old daughter in the show "hottest jail bait on TV" and the mom the "most underrated MILF on TV".

Then, today, the writer came up to my office, and asked me if I wanted to watch the opening credits right now since I was going to miss the new episode tonight. Duh, of course I want to watch them. Following that, he announces to our coworkers that "I am going to get Sarah all tingly." We got a few stares and fly-catching mouths thrown our way and then one person came to investigate. After realizing what we were doing, he understood and also wanted to partake in the tingle fest.

Yogus Pocus

Oh how I have enjoyed my time at the ghetto downtown YMCA. I'm not trying to be snotty here, but lets be honest, walking up 4 flights of unairconditioned stairs is not a fun way to relax before heading into yoga class. I decided today that at least my muscles were already warmed up and ready to be streaaatched out. Switching gym venues was a little bit of a shocker for me. I went from going to one of the most innovative, open, clean and ginormous gyms in the state to an old historical building converted into apartments and a YMCA. Shocker may not even be the correct phrase, I mean a girl is supposed to enjoy that, right?

Whoa oh, sorry for getting off track here. Back to my yoga daze. I am trying out classes at different time with different instructors to see if I like some more than others and who is really worth my time. Or shall I say, worth the time of my not-so-sinewy-and-lengthy-YET hot bod. My first class was a yoga express over the lunch hour. I will say that although the Y is not as fancy dancy, it is so close I can go over lunch, which is awesome. So I hit up a yoga express and am immediately greeted by Tom*. Tom* is a regular in the class; about 5' 10", 50ish, balding, gold chain wearer, and the kind of guy who thinks he is the ring leader of the class but really doesn't know what the hell is going on. The intimidation game begins and Tom* asks me if this is my first time. I really wanted to tell him that "Oh no, this isn't my first time but I'm not slut or anything." Tehehe, welcome to my cynical mean spirit. You can learn to love it, my friends have and accept my inappropriate and occasionally rude comments. Tom* then delves into strenuous detail about how he knows all of the instructors and has been to all of their classes and tried out Frank's* Tuesday night class, but he didn't really like it because Frank* did all the same moves ALL THE TIME and he just got so bored because he was ready to advance and he just wasn't being challenged enough. Slow down Tommy Boy, I don't want you to get a hernia over this. Tom* has since been in 3 out of my 4 classes and had the nerve today to pretend like he didn't know me or recognize me! Rude, rude, rude.

On to my second class. This one was a doozy. The regular instructor was out and so she called in for reinforcements. Well, her reinforcements came in the form of a willoly 75 year old yoga guru. This lady was the shiznizz. She had been doing yoga since her 2 sons were little and she just really needed to get away from those two little buggers. Yoga was her escape, and from the sound of it she had to escape quite often. Hahaha, I think this is my future. Gerdie* was a total hipster. We had a very calm and relaxing class that was comprised of mostly stretching and relaxation poses. I was ready for a class full of sun salutations and planks and balance poses and ended up with a sitting class complete with stretches for your eyeballs. Yep, you can stretch and strengthen your eye muscles.

After that class with Gerdie* she asked me if I liked it and what I thought. I told her it was perfect for a Tuesday evening after a busy start to the week. Now, we start the Yogus Pocus. Ok, so maybe it's my fault from the beginning, but I really thought I would get a straight answer! I told Gerdie that sometimes during yoga I get cramps in my right calf and the bottoms of my feet. I told her I stretch before and after working out, I eat at least 1 banana a day, I go through a ton of water and I get enough protein. She then asked me if I take any vitamins. Well yeah, I take a women's one a day, a calcium pill, a vitamin D. Pretty basic. Apparently, I need to be asking my body what it wants. You heard right, I need to literally ASK my body what it wants. For example; when Gerdie fills her pill case for the week, she holds the bottle of vitamins to her stomach and says out loud, "Do you need this."

Excuse me, what?

Yes, she really does this and suggested I do the same. She said that she changes her diet and vitamins all the time based on what her body tells her it needs. So I ask her how you know what your body says in response. she said you just know. I don't know about you, but the only time my body talks to me is when I need to make a trip to Stall 3.

I will continue my yoga journey and I'm sure will have more fun stories from Tom* and Gerdie*.

*Real name confidential due to possible embarassment, oh and privacy I guess.

Backpacking Transient Gawker

So I just recently joined the Lincoln YMCA's and not that I get freaked out by people watching me, I mean obviously I get that a lot...have you seen me? Oh sorry, my ego reared its gorgeous head for a second. But seriously, when you workout do you like people watching you? It's weird, right? I can see your head shaking in agreement. Yep, it's weird. It's awkward, it makes me feel like I'm in college all over again with all of the sloots working out at the rec in hopes that one of the meat shakes pumping weights that are far too heavy for their puny arms to show some interest in them and maybe just maybe ask them to the next big kegger. Please don't misinterpret my judgementalness as pegging me for a girl who didn't go to keggers. This sassafrass went to her fair share of keggers and was even given the great honor to tap a keg once. That's right, once. Apparently, nothing I learned in my college courses had prepared me for that test and my tapping privileges were taken away. After that I had to find other things to tap.  

So back to my fishbowl experience. Where was I? Oh yes, I had just joined the Y. The downtown YMCA is situated on a busy downtown corner also home to a city bus stop, an Embassy Suites Hotel, an apartment building, a movie theater and a restaurant. There is a fair amount of peeps passing by throughout the day. It is actually the perfect habitat for me because it fulfills my love of people watching. Some of my other favorite venues include airports, grocery stores, coffee shops and fun local musical events (the oddities thrive in these situations). This particular day, I was definitely the observee of another people-watcher.

Here I am minding my own biz nass workin it out on the elliptical gettin' my sweat on and loving my endorphins ragin' throughout the bod when a local transient walks by. I think nothing of it. Transients are frequent passersby on the corner and it's nothing I haven't seen before. There are some very polite local street inhabitants who wish you a blessed day and just say hello as you walk by. This guy on the other hand, was more of the taunting, rude, bored-with-his-days-spent-on-the-streets type of transient. As he was almost past me, he stopped motioned to his other not-so-well-off bud and then stared right at me. Then, he started acting as if he was on an elliptical and had this goofy look on his face and kept throwing his head back as if I were the one exaggeratingly tossing my hair in the indoor fan wind. I have to admit, it was quite hilarious. Please be picturing this homeless backpack wearing man taunting a poor twenty-something who is just trying to tone up a little bit. I ignored him as best as I could until he finally gave up and went on his merry way. Did I mention that was my first day working out at my new gym. Yep, and everyday since I elliptical or run in anticipation that I will once again be taunted by one of the local transients.

I guess at the end of the day I just have to tell my self, damn girl, even though you are gawked at as if you were a fish in a bowl put on display at least you look good.

The Golfing Gods

Well, ladies and gents I have known for many years that golf is a sport that uses many skills. Patience. Needed for those times in which you have an uphill lie, are still 200 yards out and after hitting it two times only to dribble forward about 50 yards, you still need to hit the sweet spot up to that blasted flag stick. Strength. Necessary to get through 18 holes of stop and go, hit, chip and putt. Not to mention the muscles needed to lug that bag around. Balance. Remember that time you had to stand on a wet rock that was covered in slippery moss while keeping your other foot grounded in that prairie grass? Mental sharpness. This is a tough one. Even after you triple bogey that hellish hole, you need to be able to focus, get back in the game, "man up" as Zoe would say and par this next hole. STAT. Finally, a very important skill that one must absolutely posses: the ability to sweet talk the Golfing Gods. Forget about them? My father has been telling me about these illustrious characters for ages, but it really wasn't until today that I truly understood their wrath and their forgiveness. Start getting down on yourself and let your frustrated attitude turn to club throwing and swearing and you just wait, they'll stick it to ya. Keep your cool and think through your shots (and maybe promise a little something in return) and they will reward you. Now, you don't have to be a long ball hitter like the Lama to receive grace from the Golfing Gods. Although, it would help if you could just whack one and be a big hitter like the Lama, 12th son of the Lama, that is. But on this fine Saturday morning, the Golfing Gods looked down on me and sent me a small miracle.

Here I am, just made par on the 10th hole and am stuck up on a downhill lie trying to hit over water and get up on the green. I pull out the winning club, leaving myself a little room for error, set up perfectly to address my natural draw left, take a breath and whack it. Chunk. There it goes! It's flying, it's up in the air. It's slowing down, oh crap. Shoot it's not going to make it!!! Clack! My darn golf ball smacks a rock guarding the pond. It hits it perfectly. The bounce given by the rock angles my ball directly at the pin. It flies about 40 yards getting closer and closer to the inches-wide cup that plagues our dreams. It hits the green and gently rolls up the slant to about 8 feet from the hole. People, we have just witnessed a miracle. The group of dudes behind us start whooping and cheering, I take a bow, still unsure of what exactly happened and my dad and brother holler in excitement coupled with a lot of amazement. I have never seen anything like it and probably never will again, but man, was that sweet. That rock was created to perfection just waiting for little 'ole me to haul off and chunk one heading for the water. It has been waiting for the perfect moment to give a girl a break help her send the ball to his home. The Golfing Gods were smiling down on me and my brother later thanked them by sending 2 sacrificial balls out of bounds. Sorry, Paul.

The legendary hole. Note rocks on the left side and red flag stick on the right.

Golf is a game that can send you on the highest of highs putting a smile on your face and a skip in your step only to bring you down so low you can see grown men cry and those sophisticated "gentlemen" lob their club as if it were a javelin heading straight for his own broken heart. It takes wit and skill, patience and toughness. But most of all, it takes a crazy obsessed looney tune who likes having their emotions toyed with. Exhibit A.