If I were to ever rank the people in my life (which I NEVER would), my dad would appear in the top five.  I refuse to disclose who else would be in the top 5, because I don’t want to make anyone upset (my mom would be in the top five too).  


Last night, I called my parents’ house to make my car ride go a little faster.  When Mom answers the phone, she gets upset when I don’t have anything to say.  Thankfully, Dad answered the phone this time.


Dad: HE-llo.


Sara: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.


Dad: Wait… Is this Jenna? *please note that my parents have caller ID, and the name “Sara” appears on the phone when I call*


Sara: No, Dad, it’s Sar!


Dad: Oh, Jenna always does that daaaaaaaaaaaad stuff when she calls to, so I just never know.  Hi!  MAN.  What a DAY.


My father then goes on to tell me all about his day and how busy he is.  Every couple of minutes, he says something to someone in the kitchen.  I hardly say anything this whole time, but I am laughing a lot at my dad.  


Dad: Hey, Sar, I’m really sorry to cut you off, but I have a piece of chicken in my hand, and we’re eating dinner, and I don’t have a plate, and your mom is yelling at me, and every time I try to fix the problem of having no plate, you start talking again, and I’ve got this chicken in my hand and no plate. 


Sara: Dad, I haven’t said anything this whole time!

Dad: Well, I’ll tell you what, how about I call you back after I get this chicken situation figured out.  What’d you call for anyway?

Sara: I called to hear about your life, and now I’m getting dinner, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow.


When Jenna told us that she was pregnant, we sat in the living room talking about how excited we all were, and how holy baby!  We can’t believe she’s having a baby!!


Sara: Dad, what are you going to have the baby call you?  


Dad: … The baby shall call me “grandfather”.  All the time.  ‘Sonny, get me a glass of milk.’  ‘Yes, Grandfather.’


Sara: Dad.  You’re having a grandchild, not a slave.

Dad:  ONLY GRANDFATHER.


A lot of people have told me that I have the “gift of gab”.  Give me a rock, and I can have a conversation with it.  Give me a microphone, and I am very, very happy.  Give me an audience, and I’m even happier.  I get this gift from my father.  When I was younger and we would go somewhere, I HATED that it took my dad SO LONG to get out of the place, because he would talk to EVERYONE.  And then, JUST as we’re about to get into the car, he would see someone that he met once five years ago and hadn’t seen them since and talk to THEM too.


I realize now that I am the exact same way.  I can’t help it.  I like talking to people.  And it’s in my genes.  Blame science, not me.


My dad is about one of the funniest people I know.  He is also one of the most fair.  Growing up with six siblings, there was pretty much constant fighting in the house.  My poor mother had to deal with it the majority of the time, because Dad would be working outside.  But when something big happened… Dad dealt with it.  And we. were. scared.  We would BEG my mom NOT TO TELL DAD.  Sometimes she didn’t.  But when she did, it meant big trouble.


When we got in trouble with my dad, he hardly ever would actually punish us.  The disappointment and the stern talks were enough for all 7 of us to cry and swear that it would never happen again.  It really, really sucked.


When I moved back to this wonderful country of ours in August, my parents were nice enough to give me a job on their farm so that I could save some money while I looked for a full-time job.  For four months, I worked with my dad outside every day.  Sometimes, I hated the work.  Absolutely despised it.  But I didn’t mind it as much when I was working side by side with my dad.  Over those four months, my dad became one of my closest friends and confidants.  


Last fall, Peter and I got into a big fight, mostly because we were both having a hard time only seeing each other on weekends, and we were getting fed up with living at least 3 hours apart for the entire 2 years we had been dating.  The morning after we had this fight, I had to go out to the barn and feed calves.  I was being really impatient, and was getting really upset about stupid things, and my dad noticed.   


I think that my dad knew why I was so upset, but he asked anyways.  I completely broke down at 4:30 in the morning in the barn with my dad and told him everything.  How I didn’t know what to do, and how it was just awful, and Peter and I were both so frustrated, and I just UGH didn’t know how to fix it.  My dad stood in the barn and just listened to me.  He let me cry and yell and stomp my foot like a child.  When I was done, he didn’t offer me any advice.  He looked at me and said, “Let me just give you a hug.”  And that was it.  And it made me feel so much better.


The next day, we were in the tool shed, and my dad brought up the fight Peter and I had.  “Sar, I hate to bring this up again, but I know that everything will work out.  You and Peter both have good heads on your shoulders, and you’ll figure it out.  I know it.”  Later that day I told my mom how great my dad is.  She nodded her head and said, “I know.  He really is.”


When I have exciting news, my dad is one of the first people that I call.  He’s also one of the first people I call when I am faced with a tough decision, had a rough day, or have a dumb story to tell.  For how much he talks, my dad is an amazing listener.  I really, really miss working with my dad every day.


I started reading Tina Fey’s biography.  She is fricking hilarious.  Her book has this whole chapter where she talks about her dad.  The good, the bad, and the funny.  You know, if I were ever going to write a biography, I would write a whole chapter about my dad, too.  


Because he deserves a whole chapter.


Happy Father’s Day, to the best dad in the world.

A lot of people ask me if I’m fluent in Spanish.

• Let’s go to the movies.
• Let me into your house!!!
• Let that be a lesson to you.
• Let down your hair.
• Let the dog out.

See what I mean?


Or how about the phenomenon known as the letter “g”.


The letter “g” makes the sound “guh”.  Like the word “gulp”.  Except, when the letter “g” is next to the letter “h”, then it makes a sound like the letter “f”.  Like the word “laugh”.  Or “tough”.  BUT that rule doesn’t apply to the word “ghetto”.


Sigh.  Oh, and in the word “sigh”, where the letter “g” is silent.


THAT was fun!!


One thing that I love about Spanish, is that it’s one of the romance languages.  That means that they have a lot of different ways to say things that English only has one way of saying.  In Spanish, when you’re in love with someone, there are so many different ways to put it.  But they would sound just DUMB in English.  


Peter is my boyfriend.  In English, I call him “boyfriend” and that’s it.  Done.  Boyfriend.  BORING.  If you break down the word, it is friend who is a boy.  Oh how fun and exciting and meaningful.


But in SPANISH, which is AWESOME, there isn’t just the word “boyfriend”.  They have these amazing ways of telling the world that they are devoted to someone, and they are SERIOUS about it.  Translations being: my love, my heart, my soul, my life, love of my life, and lover.  Now, I KNOW that in English I could be saying all of these things.  But really… Think about how THAT would go.


Sara: Peter, my soul, pass me the salt.


Mmmhmmm not happening.  It just sounds so much better in Spanish.


So anyways, English sucks because whenever I say things like “love of my life” to Peter, he gives me the look that says “I know you’re going to ask me for something, but since you’re prefacing it with ‘love of my life’ I’m not going to give it to you.”


Stupid English.


Here is a poster that I had to make while I was a teacher about language.

And here is a picture of a poster that was in the school that I taught at.  And NO, you jerks, it is NOT one of my students’ work.

Sometimes, I remember the most random things that I’ve done.

I am not one to complain about heat.  I love warm weather.  It’s one of my top 25 favorite things.  However.  I will complain about the heat in certain situations when my skin should not feel like it is going to melt off.  Like when I am trying to fall asleep.  Or when I am waiting in line for a sno-cone.

Remember how the air conditioning is broken on my car?  Welllll, I don’t know if you remember THIS one, but yesterday it was like 90 degrees with 462% humidity.  

And Peter and I drove down to Lake Geneva.

So now I present to you the pros and cons of having no AC in my car!

PRO: Wherever I go, I arrive with the chic “windblown” hair look that you see so often on America’s Next Top Model.
CON: I can’t pull off the “windblown” hair look, so I end up looking really disheveled and like I didn’t run a brush through my hair for a week.

PRO: I get to take in the sweet scents of summer, including but not limited to freshly mown grass, freshly cut hay, and the smell of pavement after it rains.
CON: I pass a pig farm on my way to and from work.


PRO: I get to listen to my music really loudly without looking like a poser, because I legit can’t hear it when I’m driving.
CON: I look like a poser anyways, because people don’t KNOW my AC is broken, so they thing I just want them all to hear my music of choice (most recently Lady Gaga’s new album).


PRO: When Peter is talking I can pretend like I can’t hear him, because the wind is soooooo loud in my ears.
CON: When Peter is talking, I really can’t hear him, and then when I ask him what he said, and he goes, “Nevermind” which drives me CRAZY.


PRO: Who doesn’t enjoy the fresh night breeze?
CON: It’s scary driving in the dark when your windows are open, especially when something like a bug or something hits you in the temple and it feels like a small pebble.  Yes, that happened.  Good thing I didn’t go down.


PRO: Who doesn’t love the wind on their face in the summer??
CON: You know how your windshield gets all full of bugs when you drive?  That happens to my sunglasses.

Here’s to hoping that Peter’s dad can fix my car air conditioning.  

And that it’s not going to end up costing me an entire paycheck to repair.

Sigh.

Hindsight’s a bitch.


The convertible


On Saturday, my dear friend Steven Davis got married. To celebrate this joyous occasion, Peter’s dad let us take the BMW convertible to the wedding. He drove from his house to my house with the top down. I don’t know if you remember, but it was cloudy and rainy and not very warm on Saturday.


Scene: Peter arrives. Sara rushes out of the house as Peter is getting out of his car.


Peter: *over-dramatic sigh* Well. *sigh* I guess I should put the top up. *Stares at Sara before dramatically reaching for the lever to pull the top up*

Peter: OK! *gets in the car smiling like an idiot.*


Two seconds down Mohawk Road, I realized that it was a MISTAKE. Because when we got to the church, my hair was SO knotted and tangled and my dress was wrinkled and I looked like a disaster. But Peter was happy, so that’s all that matters… Right?


The car air conditioner


Last August I thought that maybe my car wasn’t quite as cool as I would have liked in the hot summer sun. Since we’ve only had mmmm TWO warm days SINCE last August, I didn’t REALLY realize that the air conditioning wasn’t actually cold… At all…


Turns out that I should have probably had that looked at. Because when Peter and I were driving to Lake Geneva on Friday evening, I asked him if the AC was working, and he said yes… And then he said no when he stuck his hand out the window.


On Monday, it was HOT outside. And guess how long we were in the car. FOUR HOURS. So, my right arm is quite sunburned. The rest of my body remains pasty white.


Fail.


The dog post


Biggest mistake that I’ve made in a while… Writing that STUPID blog post about how I would maybe consider possibly THINKING about owning a dog in the far, far, FAR off future. Because now Peter goes around telling people that I “want” a dog, and if we go to someone’s house and they have a Cavalier King Charles, he says, “Sar! They have the kind of dog that you want!!” And THEN he gets ALLLLL mad and huffy when I say, “NO. I do not ‘want’ this kind of dog. I do not ‘want’ ANY kind of dog. I do not ‘like’ this dog, or any other dog, either.”


These little episodes usually end in him saying, “I KNOW you said you WANTED a dog” and me crossing my arms and saying, “You must use selective hearing when I talk about the fictitious dog Ruby.”


This is what I say: Peter. I do not like dogs. You knew this when you started dating me. You CHOSE to still date me. I did not force you to date me. I do not WANT a dog. I do not like dogs. You are a dog person. I am not a dog person.  This is the one imperfection of our relationship.  If you get me a dog for my birthday, I will be soooooooooooooooo mad. I will not even pretend to be happy.


THIS is what Peter hears: Peter. I do not like dogs. You knew this when you started dating me. You CHOSE to still date me. I did not force you to date me. I do not WANT a dog. I do not like dogs. You are a dog person. I am not a dog person. This is the one imperfection of our relationship.  If you get me a dog for my birthday, I will be soooooooooooooooo mad. I will not even pretend to be happy.


Did I ever actually SAY that I WANTED a DOG?? EVER?????


Now I have to go back and edit read that post to make sure that I’m not contradicting myself here.


For the love.

This song should NEVER be played on ANYONE’S morning commute to work.  Especially on days when it is gloomy and rainy and you can not drag yourself out of bed, so you hit the snooze FOUR times and then had to rush yourself so that you’re not super late for work and your hair looks like a wreck.  And since you couldn’t drag yourself out of bed, you didn’t have time to stop at Starbucks for a latte.  And since you didn’t have time to stop at Starbucks for a latte, you are drinking water from your water bottle from yesterday that is luke warm and wait, this water bottle is from yesterday, right??

On the contrary, THIS song should ALWAYS be played on a morning commute to work.  Especially when the sun is shining, and you’re having a really great hair day.  And you also got moving and grooving this morning because you went to bed at 8:00 the night before because you knew that you wanted to have a good hair day.  Since you got up and going so quickly instead of hitting the snooze three times, you had PLENTY of time to put on your sunglasses and drive to Starbucks for a special treat… AND a bottle of FRESH, UNOPENED water!!!  And guess what else!  You walked into the office at 8:01 instead of 8:14!!!  Win.

Needless to say, the music that I hear on my morning commute to work OBVIOUSLY has an influence on my day.  Some days are better than others. 

For all of you who are wondering: yes.  I do sing very loudly as I bop my head and smile and look into other car’s windows as I am using my phone as a microphone and imagining myself performing on stage singing along to the radio.

On Friday night, Peter and I went to dinner with our friends Craig and Katie. The waiter was super talky talky talky, and when we finally placed our order, he came back to the table.


Waiter: So, we’re having a competition amongst the servers, and it’s to see who can find the table with the most interesting fact.

Waiter: … Let me go tell my manager.


He won. But we didn’t get any free dessert or anything.


And now you all know what I do. It’s a fun fact that you can tell your friends.  And then win prizes (hopefully you won’t get jipped like we did).


Now let’s all get our giggles out because I sell semen and move on with our lives.