Category Archives: Uncategorized

Severe Weather

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Sometimes, I don’t know how people put up with me. I’m not kidding here. Looking back on some situations, I realize that if someone was to react the way that I reacted, I would have smacked them upside the head and said, “Get a hold of yourself, woman!! You will be FINE. You big BABY.” Thankfully, I am surrounded by people filled with an ocean of more patience than I have. Namely my mother and Peter. Sometimes…

Severe weather is one of these situations. Almost nothing horrifies me more than a tornado warning, aside from audience participation events, but that’s another story for another time, as in later this week because I just had a little episode with THAT too. It’s been quite the weekend.
So anyways, I think that the root of my problem goes back to my 6th birthday. As you know from the previous post, my birthday is at the end of June (I love presents, FYI), which also happens to be about the peak of tornado season. Between the blizzards and tornadoes, there is almost no better place to grow up than Wisconsin.
I need to stay on topic.
For my 6th birthday, my mom was wonderful and loving and threw me a birthday party. The guest list included my ENTIRE class of like 8 people I think? And my cousin. And we were borrowing a slip and slide from my other cousin, so this was BOUND to be the BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER.
Except the dang weather. My party had to be re-scheduled twice, once because of a really bad thunderstorm, and then again because of a tornado that has super strong winds (which is, ironically, the definition of a tornado) and knocked down a huge limb off the HUGE tree in our front yard.
When the day of my party FINALLY came, we played on the slip and slide, ate cake, I was the center of attention and opened my presents, and the afternoon ended in the boys (both of them and Marty) watching Bambi downstairs and the girls playing Barbies in my room. Why were we inside on a hot summer day? Because there was a severe thunderstorm that resulted in a power outage and crying. Awesome. Thanks, Mom, for being awesome and keeping everyone calm.
Last November there was a tornado about 3 miles from my parents’ house on Mohawk Road. It destroyed our neighbor’s farm and was really scary. For this, one would think that I was safely sitting in our scary basement with my family, but nooooo. I HAD to go babysit in a house that lacked a BASEMENT.
After the power went out and I could no longer track the storm, I was constantly texting Peter to check it out for me, because sirens were going off, and police cars were driving around with their sirens on signifying that this WAS serious. Turns out that Peter was in a meeting and computer-less. So, what did I do?
Cleaned out the broom closet aka threw everything that was in the closet into the living room, and then thought better of it and moved the vacuum cleaner REALLY far away because I didn’t want to get knocked out by it because of the strong winds. Then, I went into the closet with a flashlight that I found, and sat on the floor trying not to cry. Why was I afraid in the closet?
Because this house had SERIOUS mouse problems. One time, I was at the house in the afternoon with twin 1 who was faking sick, and a mouse had crawled up ONTO THE SCREEN DOOR and was scampering all over it. Still makes me shudder. On an almost nightly basis, I moved my shoes to the couch, and didn’t move for hours at a time because I could see the mice scampering around on the kitchen floor and ON THE COUNTER TOPS. And when I say mice, I mean MORE THAN ONE.
So anyways, here I am in the middle of a tornado trying not to cry because not only am I going to die in the tornado by getting hit in the head with a vacuum cleaner because I’m not sure if I moved it far enough away, but I’m also going to be bitten by a mouse that I’ve SEEN going to and from this closet. And then I’ll have rabies, just like that time I got chased by the rabid dog in Ecuador.
ALSO causing my blood pressure to raise through the roof was the fact that I’m the NANNY so I was unaware of the fact that it’s some rule at the school to have the kids stay after in severe weather. So I’m thinking that the two boys that I’m responsible for are about to get swept into the wind on the bus.
Throughout the whole event I kept calling my mom and crying to her telling her I was scared. She told me lovingly that I would be OK, and to just bring the boys to our house instead of staying there in the dark. But we didn’t have power yet either, so instead we packed up and headed to Illinois to my cousin’s house. It was really traumatic.
So then, LAST night, when there was MORE severe weather, I was sitting alone in my apartment on the SECOND FLOOR wondering where to go in the event that there is a tornado, which according to the news, is “more than likely” and “it will be VERY damaging” if it touches down. UGH.
I called my mom.
Sara: Mom. I’m really scared. There’s going to be a tornado.

Mom: Yeah, we’re watching the news. You’ll be ok! Why don’t you go to Peter’s?

Sara: Because he lives on the second floor too, and I don’t want him to think I’m a baby.
Meanwhile, I’m texting Peter.
Sara: I’m watching the weather, and they’re talking about tornadoes and I don’t know where to go for a tornado in my apartment.

Peter: In the lockbox?

Sara: Where is that?

Peter: It’s an SNL skit.

Sara: Peter. This is not something to joke about! You forget that that last time I was in a tornado warning a whole farm 3 miles from my house got wiped out!!!!!!
Sara: I’m really scared over here!!

Peter: Well. We are playing Monopoly Deal.

Sara: I should have come over. But I’m not leaving now!!!

Peter: I can’t wait to read your blog about this weekend.

Sara: I can’t wait until my blood pressure goes down!
Sara: The sirens are going off…

Peter: Thunderstorm warnings?

Sara: No. Tornado for SW part of Brown County.

Peter: Aren’t we north?

Sara: Yes, but I’m still scared.

Peter: We’ll be fine.

Sara: Just promise me that someday we will have a BASEMENT.
Sara: Tornado touchdown in Kaukauna. On top of it all, it’s 78 degrees in my apartment. I’m sweating to death.
Sara: Ok. The worst is past us. Thank God.
During that whole conversation, I was sitting about a foot in front of the TV looking at the towns and things, since I don’t know the area all that well, and sweating to death, looking out my window and being scared to death.
When the warning FINALLY passed, I texted my mom.
Sara: Alright. Worst is past. I can finally breathe again. Already dreading summer storms…

Mom: Wow! You held your breath that whole time? You are awesome and must have super powers 🙂

Sara: MOM I WAS REALLY SCARED!!!!!!!!

Mom: I know. That’s why I didn’t go to bed yet. Until I knew you were safe and calm.

Sara: You’re so nice. I’m safe and calm now, and I asked Peter for a basement for my birthday.
When I finally went to bed because my emotions were all exhausted, I called Peter.
Peter: Are you ok now?

Sara: Yes. Sorry I’m such a baby. I think the tornado in November had a bigger impact on me than I thought it did.

Peter: I think you’re right…

Things I won’t tell you. Or can’t tell you.

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FIRST. I want to give a huge shout-out and HUG to all of the people that have bought raffle tickets for School Fest at Lakeland School. You are AWESOME. It is SO heartwarming to get your emails about how you would LOVE to give. Through blog-readers alone, over $150 has been raised for Lakeland School! That is AMAZING!!! If you haven’t yet, read my post about my favorite sister. If you don’t want to buy a ticket, that’s fine, seriously. I like it a lot as an FYI type of a post.

Anyways. On to other things.

Someone asked me the other day why I haven’t written a blog in a while. Guess what. Sometimes, people lead boring lives and don’t HAVE entertaining stories to tell. Really.

You don’t want to hear about how I was in California for a week (Disneyland for one day) roasting in the 105* weather. I went with Nancy, Jenna, Tay, and Sonia – Taylor’s BFFL (best friend for life for those of you who aren’t all hip with the internet lingo). We shopped. We baked in the sun. We told the people that shared the pool with us that no, we do not want to play the game of keep-away with you in the pool, because we are not fun people. Please.
You don’t want to hear about how when I was in California, my hairline got REALLY sunburned (who remembers to put sunscreen in their hair?) and on the like, second day that I was there it was all peeling and scaley and gross, and my sisters kept being like “EW Sara, your face is GROSS”, so on Wednesday when we were shopping I bought a hat (a classy Tommy Hilfiger white tennis-esque baseball cap) and wore it every time that we were in the sun which was all the time, and then they made fun of THAT. THANKS.
You don’t want to hear about how Peter picked me up from the airport and then we went to dinner and I got pizza sauce on my brand new shirt that I had JUST taken the tags off of. And that I’m wearing said shirt again today and just noticed a stain on the arm. Seriously?
You don’t want to hear about how when I came in to work on Monday morning, my desk was a mess and I had over 200 unread messages in my inbox. And the first one that I opened was in Spanish in ALL CAPS LOCK WONDERING WHY I WASN’T RESPONDING TO THEIR URGENT REQUEST. Well. If you would have read the away message that I had up, you would KNOW that I was GONE and you would KNOW who to CONTACT in my ABSENCE. I KNOW that it is hard to live without me, but PLEASE. TRY.
You don’t want to hear about how Wednesday they did a construction project on my cubicle while I was SITTING in it, and now everyone comes back to my dead-end and tells me how much room I have. Who cares? What am I going to do, sprawl out on the floor and take a nap or something? Do stretches around 2:30 to rejuvenate me for the rest of the day?
You don’t want to hear how I went grocery shopping at a super sketchy grocery store that smelled like cigarette smoke, had expired milk, and didn’t give me any bags to bag my groceries. So I had to bring them all ($42.91 worth of groceries) to my car in the cart and pile them in my backseat, and then take about 17 trips back and forth, up and down my stairs, to and from my car to get them all onto my kitchen table/counter/living room floor where they are still sitting today.
Then, there are the things that I WANT to write about but CAN’T, because I really like my job (aside from emails in all CAPS in a foreign language), and because I don’t want anyone (ahem, Peter) to get upset because I told them that I wouldn’t.
Like, I want SO badly to tell you about the conversations that Peter and I had on our car ride to western Wisconsin last weekend on our way to my friends’ wedding. The reason I’m not going to tell you about how Peter used to get into fights in grade school, and got SUSPENDED for it, is because I don’t want to provoke that fiery temper. Although, the last time he hit someone (that I’m aware of) was to defend me (another story, for another time), so I mean hey, I love someone who’s willing to throw a punch for the love of their life. But there WAS that one time that he elbowed me in the head in his sleep, but I don’t like sharing that because I don’t want people to think that he did it on purpose.
I can’t tell you about how I came into work one day this week and someone was wearing an eye patch, and when I was talking to them, they said “aye”, which made me want to laugh because you just CAN’T say that when you have an eye patch on. You can’t do it. It’s like, an un-written law or something.
I can’t tell you that I’m DYING to know what Peter is getting me for my birthday, because he reads this blog, and I don’t want him to know how CRAZY he is making me for telling me that he knows what he’s getting me even though my birthday is not until the END of JUNE. And he KNOWS that I HATE it when he does that.
But I can tell you that I started laughing really hard the other day when Peter said this:
Seriously.

Picking Favorites

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Being one of seven children, I am often asked, “Who’s your favorite??”. As a child, I learned the rule that nonono you don’t pick favorites. You love EVERYONE. EQUALLY.
NAY! NAY I tell you!! I am now an adult of 23 years, and I shall share with the world that my favorite sister is LAURA LYNN VANDERSTAPPEN. HA!

Now, Laura is not my favorite because she’s the nicest to me (don’t let that sweet face fool you…) or because she loves me the most (Half the time when you tell the child you love her she says, “NO!”). Laura is my favorite because she, out of all of my siblings, has opened my eyes to a world that I never would have known without her.
Laura was born with a disability. The doctors never gave her an exact diagnosis. “Developmentally delayed” was what they said. My parents started exploring this diagnosis right away. When can we start therapy? Where will she go to school? How are we going to explain this to the kids? We will give Laura the best life EVER!!
One doctor had the nerve to tell my parents that it would be useless doing all of these things for their child. She would never amount to anything. After shocked expressions, angry words, and hot tears, my parents never went back to that doctor, and were more determined than ever to prove him wrong.
And they did. Laura did. Because she is amazing. In every. single. way.
My parents had Laura in therapy – both physical and occupational – at the young age of 3 months. The therapists came to our house (“HURRY UP AND CLEAN THE LIVING ROOM!!!!! THE THERAPIST WILL BE HERE IN 20 MINUTES!!!!” became an almost daily command) and did their job. And by did their job, I mean proved that horrible doctor wrong every day. Because Laura had so, so much potential. And they recognized it, harnessed it, and developed it… even if it did take a long time…
Being developmentally delayed means exactly what you think it means. Laura sat up for the first time when she was almost 2 years old. I actually remember my mom coming in to the living room and saying “Alright, who sat Laura up so close to the fireplace?” Blank stares. “Who did it?! I’m not mad!! I just want to know who sat her up!” Uhhhhhh. “OHMYGOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE DID IT HERSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE SAT UP ALL BY HERSELF!!!!!!!” And then we all started crying. Because it was that awesome. And we’re criers.
Laura scooted around the house on her little butt for years. She still answers to the nickname ‘Scooter’. And then, when she was 8 years old, Laura started to walk. By herself. As in, no help from anyone.
Laura has accomplished so much. An incredible amount for such a tiny girl. So many more milestones passed. Although her talking isn’t all coherent, there is so much going on her brain that she shows us in other ways.
She recognizes. She recognizes faces, voices, things she likes, and things she doesn’t.
She gets mad. She’ll cross her arms and stomp away. She’ll yell. She’ll start to cry if something isn’t fair.
She manipulates. She tattles on her siblings. She fake cries when she’s not getting her way.
She is happy. The happiest of anyone I know. She laughs. She smiles. She tickles you. She tells jokes.
She LOVES. She give hugs and kisses. She says “I love you.” She has so much love in her heart and soul, and she gives it to everyone. Everyone.
One of the best things to happen to Laura, my family, and so many other families in Walworth County is Lakeland School, a school that was made only for special needs children. One of the most amazing places on Earth. Laura started attending Lakeland when she was 3. She will be a student there until she is 21. Please watch the 5 minute video below to learn a little bit more about Lakeland.
Every year, Lakeland School has an annual fundraiser called School Fest. My mom has always been a big advocate for supporting this, because our lives wouldn’t be the same without Lakeland. If you would like to buy raffle tickets to support Lakeland School, so that Lakeland School can continue changing lives for the better every single day, you can shoot me an email at sarajvander@yahoo.com. Raffle tickets are 1 dollar each, or 6 for $5.00. I promise it’s for a great cause.
OH, and there are some AWESOME prizes too:
GRAND PRIZE!! Samsung LED 43-inch TV and Blu-Ray Player
SECOND PRIZE! Nook e-reader with $100 Barnes & Noble gift card
CASH PRIZES$$$ – $200, (2) $100, (2) $50
Sa-weeeeet!!! School Fest is on May 7 (in case you’d like to attend!), and guess what… The winner doesn’t have to be present! So seriously, you can be ANYWHERE in the WORLD and win, and they will get your prize to you!
Lakeland School is one of the best things that has ever happened to Laura, and my entire FAMILY. My favorite sister wouldn’t be who she is today without it, and neither would her siblings. An amazing place with amazing people. That needs all the support it can get.
So don’t forget to email me at sarajvander@yahoo.com 😉
I’ll need your name, address, and phone number…

Check, check, one two… Check, one two

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Today I got a text from Peter.

Pete: Kim wants to have a radio show with you.

Sara: OHMYGOSH did you tell her how I always tell you how great I think I would be on the radio?!

Pete: Yes. I did. Text her.

Sara: What am I supposed to say?

Pete: Let’s do a radio show.

Sara: Just making sure, but this is all hypothetical, right?

Pete: No clue. Kim is unemployed currently, so the world is her burrito.
NOTE: Kim is taking a leave of absence from her job because she’s been a LITTLE busy with this.
Every morning on my way to work, I flip between radio stations trying to find a morning show that doesn’t annoy the living daylights out of me. There are too many commercials, and in between the commercials I’ve found that the people talking are talking about the STUPIDEST things (What kind of food do YOU like pickled? … Oh, the Packers won the Superbowl? Back in FEBRUARY? I had NO idea!! … There’s MORE Charlie Sheen drama?!?!)
Whenever I have a REALLY dreadful morning show experience, I proceed to tell Peter that I think I would be a great morning host. I could talk to people on the phone, play songs that I like, and talk about whatever I wanted! Helloooooo best idea everrrrrrrr. Peter always responds, “I think that it’s a little bit more work than that…” Who cares?! Seriously, give me the mic.
I’ve even been ON the radio before! A few years ago, I did a commercial promoting the Walworth County Fair “Got Milk?” booth. I LOVED recording it. The only problem was that I hate the sound of my voice (doesn’t everybody?), so whenever I heard it play on the radio, I would groan and switch the station. Or sit and listen to it in disgust. “Do I REALLY sound like that? How do you STAND listening to that VOICE?!”
Speaking of hating the sound of my voice, when I first started my job, I had to record my voicemail message. I wrote out what I was going to say and made Donald leave his cubicle for a little bit so that I could record unheard. What made it WORSE is that I had to record the same message twice – once in English pause once in Spanish. You thought you hated the sound of YOUR voice? Record yourself speaking another language that you think you’re semi-decent at. Warning: Your confidence in said second language will go crashing down to sub-zero levels.
I DO get nervous around microphones though… For about 5 seconds, and then I embrace the shit out of that sucker. Except once…
As a gift a few years back, one of his children bought Peter’s grandpa a voice recorder. The idea was that he use it to record himself telling stories/the family history/etc. Instead, he uses it to record events (holidays, birthday parties, little get-togethers, etc.).
Last month, Peter and I were home for a weekend to see our families, celebrate birthdays, and find out Jenna and Mark are having a baby (OHMYGOD I KNOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! Due September 20). For his grandma’s birthday, we made it to the little get-together at the grandparents’ house for cake and ice cream.
Scene: Group of people standing in the living room talking. Enter Grandpa R. Standing with this arms crossed.
Grandpa R: So, here we are at Grandma’s birthday. Standing in the living room talking we have so and so, so and so, so and so, Sara, who is Peter’s girlfriend, so and so (etc.). Who wants to guess how old Grandma is?!
Random numbers thrown out. Laughter. Grandpa R. begins asking questions to everyone in the circle. Cue Sara.
Grandpa R: Sara is dating Peter. How old are you Sara?

Sara: 23? (because obviously I don’t know…)
Grandpa R: Sara, now, tell me what you’re doing. You just moved to Green Bay?

Sara: What’s that in your hand? Are you RECORDING this?

Grandpa R: Oh, don’t you worry about that. Now what is your job?

Sara: Are you going to play this back? I hate the sound of my voice.

Grandpa R: No, no, it’s fine! Just ignore it.

Sara: I can’t ignore it.
Scene fade out.
I asked Peter’s cousin Hillary to tell me what exactly was going on with the voice recorder. She told me.
Sara: OHMYGOD, is he going to play that BACK later?!? I’m SO embarrassed!!

Hillary: No, he won’t play it now. He likes to listen to it later though, and then he smiles and laughs at all the good times he’s had.

Sara: That tape needs to be destroyed.
For the record, I love Peter’s grandpa. Seriously. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to just grab the recorder from his hand and talk right into it. I do MUCH better with the microphone in my hand.
Can’t wait to have THAT one played back in 20 years…

Google Ads

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Since starting my blog, Peter told me that I should “monetize” it so that I could make monayyyy. I signed up for Google Ads to be put on my blog on Monday and have thus far made one penny. I’m rich! …

Today was the first day that I went to my blog to check out the ads that Google chose for me. Before I signed up, Google told me that it would choose the ads that are placed on my blog according to my blog content. The ads are on the side bar, and there are like five or something listed one on top of the other.
The first ads that I saw:
1. Cold Sore Treatment. REALLY Google? You’re REALLY going to rub in my face that I am cursed with COLD SORES?! I’m probably going to get a cold sore now, because I’m getting stressed about the situation. No worries, I’ll just click on the ad to get the best cold sore treatment there is. Man. Low blow.
2. Unique Personalized Gifts. I like giving gifts. Considering I wrote a lot about gifts, Google obviously knows me so well that, my goodness why WOULDN’T I want to give PERSONALIZED gifts. Merry Christmas, Mom, here is an obnoxious sweatshirt with “NANCY VANDERSTAPPEN, WORLD’S BEST MOTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” embroidered in.
3. Nice Birthday Messages. Please. Enough with the birthdays already.
4. Join Groups on Facebook. They must have read my hobbies.
5. Skydive with Sky Knights. Wait, what?
We all know I’m too scared to do anything crazy like skydiving.

The Vanderstapp-Inn

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I am the second oldest of 7 children. Since we did not grow up in a castle, we all had to share rooms. Even Marty. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR Martyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy the onlyy boyyyyyyy. Please. Stop. He’s spoiled. But I WILL say that he knows how to dress really well and how to treat girls nicely. And he knows how to spend all of 13 seconds in the shower because the bathroom was constantly occupied.

Jenna and Sara shared. Adrianna, Taylor, and Rachel share. Marty and Laura shared. Now that we are all becoming adults, going away to college, getting full time jobs, etc. my parents’ house has become more of a bed and breakfast. The Vanderstapp-Inn, if you will (my cousin’s have this sign on their house. And it’s awesome.).
When I went home in February, EVERYONE was home. As in: 7 children plus one spouse and one friend. Sister and spouse didn’t spend the night. So that means 7 people needed beds. Guess how many beds we have. 6. Guess who was the first one to get the boot. “Sara. Mohawk Road is no longer your permanent residence.” Sighhhhhhhhhhhh…
The first night, Rachel had a friend sleep over (so that means EIGHT people needed beds!!), so Rachel and friend slept on the air mattress downstairs. I heard through the grapevine, as in Nanc texted me, that I would be sleeping in Taylor’s bed. Taylor would be sleeping in Rachel’s bed.
I get home. I go upstairs. I see that Taylor is in her bed. I look up. And see that Rachel’s top bunk is empty. Awesome.
I’ve always been that kid at camp that was like, “Oh, well, I GUESS I’ll take the bottom bunk, because I don’t want everyone to break out into a fight over the top bunk, so yeah, I’ll make this HUGE sacrifice and miss out on ALL the fun and sleep on the bottom.” I hate the top bunk. Especially when the fan was on. And in A/T/R’s room, the FAN was on. Meh.
Night one of sleep was less than moderate, considering there were no pillows to be found, so I had to use a pillow pet for head support. I might as well have slept with no pillow at all.
Night two I was out to dinner with Peter’s family and halfway through I realized that shoot. I had no idea where I was going to sleep! Rachel would surely take her bed back, because she IS the rightful owner and the couch downstairs isn’t comfortable, so why would she offer to sleep on it? To my surprise when I got home, I nearly trampled my favorite sister Rachel because she set up camp on the floor, and I got her bed once again. What a sister.
This past weekend when I was home (Happy Birthday Taylor – 18 and Laura – 16!!), everyone had a bed to sleep in, because there were only 6 occupants at the Inn, but Laura gets her own room now because Marty brought his bed up to school with him.
That means Marty and I are roommates. Now, I’ve had a lot of roommates in my day. Jenna, being the longest of 20 years, and then year-long roommates with people in college and things like that. Marty didn’t know what to do with a roommate that could… well… talk. I mean, Laura is great and all, but the conversations with her don’t usually go much past yes and no and her repeating “Happy Birthday!” or anything else that you tell her to repeat (Mom gets mad when we tell her to swear. But MAN is it FUNNY!).
Marty lays down in his bed. I lay down in mine. The light is still on. Now, when I shared with Jenna, I could ALWAYS get her to turn off the light, because I can sleep with it on and she can’t. Well…
Marty: Sara. The light. You have to turn off the light.

Sara: Marty. You were JUST over there.

Marty: *groannnnnnnnn* I’m not turning it off.

Sara: Fine. *shuts off light*
I called Peter, since I hadn’t talked to him all day (OMGGGG I KNOWWWWWWWW How do I LIVE without talking to him constantly?!?!).
Enter Adrianna. She sits on the foot of my bed.
Adrianna: I’m not tired.
I ignore her. I continue trying to talk to Peter. Adrianna jumps on me. I can’t breath. I have to hang up on Peter.
Adrianna: I’m not tired.

Sara: I am.

Adrianna: Sara. You’re no fun. Talk to me.

Sara: No.

Marty: I’ll talk to you!

Sara: groannnnnnnnn

Talking commences and you KNOW I love talking, so I join in. Talking escalates to laughing. Really loudly.
Jenna and I always used to get in trouble for talking and laughing at night, as many sisters who share a room do. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had that? Despite telling Marty and Adrianna to SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH several times, I didn’t even care if Mom yelled at us. Because let’s face it: nothing makes a mother happier than hearing her children laughing and getting along.
Even if it is 11:00 PM, and said mother may or may not have been awake since 4:30 AM…

Hobbies

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One of my sisters called me the other day and said, “Guess what. I have a hobby…. reading.” Good! It is a little joke in our family that this particular sister doesn’t have any hobbies, because whenever someone asks her what she likes to do, she is at a loss. Poor kid. Wait until you get to the job hunt in another 4 or so years… Because you’ll get that question in your interview.

It is, in fact, my least favorite interview question. “What do you like to do in your spare time?” These are the things that I actually like to do in my spare time:

  • Watch TV. Watch TV until my eyes melt out of their sockets.
  • Read.
  • Surf the internet aka go on perezhilton.com, cnn.com, time.com, people.com, facebook.com, and youtube.com. I don’t actually know how to surf the internet.
  • Think about how I would decorate my apartment if I was rich.
  • Think about being rich.
  • Knit – seriously.
  • Go through the car wash.
  • Pretend I’m not lactose intolerant and eat all of the ice cream that I can find.
  • Talk to my dad on the phone.
  • Talk to my mom on the phone.
  • Talk to ANYONE on the phone. Except bad phone talkers.
  • Watch movies for the millionth time.
  • Talk in a singing voice (Peter LOVES this one… HA)
  • Text.
  • Play Lego Indiana Jones on Playstation.
  • Eat candy.
These are the things that I feel like I should be saying that I like to do:
  • Playing with little puppies at the pound, because they don’t have families to love them, so I am loving them with every fiber of my being.
  • Donating all of the extra pennies that I can muster to the starving children in Africa. And Asia, and the Middle East, and South America AND North America. And Europe too.
  • Keeping up on all of the political disasters that engulf our world today.
  • Playing the violin and other string instruments.
  • Reading the Wall Street Journal on Sunday mornings.
  • Watching the 10:00 news every night.
  • Brushing up on my Chinese.
  • Drinking tea and eating crumpets.
  • Brainstorming how to single-handedly save the world.
One of my friends, we’ll call him T, called me after an interview that he had a few weeks ago.
T: You’re never going to believe what I said for the ‘what I like to do in my spare time’ question.

Sara: Oh GOD, what did you come up with this time??

T: Well, after I started sweating, I said, ‘My roommate and I like to go to the diner downtown to get milkshakes. Our friend works there, so we go there a lot.’ … Because apparently I live in the year 1950. You know, my roommate wore her poodle skirt and I had my suspenders on while we skipped down to the diner.
Best. Answer. Ever.
I’d rather have the strengths and/or weaknesses question. The other night at dinner, Peter and I were conversing, and I don’t even know HOW we got on this, but Peter started listing things that he was good at:
  • Figuring out computer stuff
  • Proof-reading
  • Telling stories
  • Being efficient
  • Indian accents
Indian accents came out of nowhere for me too. Except recently, he’s been on this accent binge? Where, if he hears an accent, he uses it all the time? And half the time I can’t understand what he’s saying… So maybe he IS good at accents.
Anyways, I’m sure that Peter listed all of these strengths when he had job interviews, and that’s probably how he got hired.
I’m going to do you the favor and not even LIST my strengths. I don’t want anyone to get jealous of the fact that I’m really good at making cupcakes.
And straightening my hair.