SARAH FACE

Monday, May 6, 2013

You Work on Commission, Right?

Our last morning in Hollywood, we went to Rodeo drive. I was window shopping in its most pure form, since a) there was no way we could afford anything in any of the stores and b)we were there at 10:00am on a Sunday morning, so they were all closed anyway.

My mom and I considered morphing ourselves into the Hilton Sisters. Turns out it's pretty expensive though.

Just chillin.

Window shopping.

And thus concludes my excessive blogging about our trip. Woot.

Los Art

Lot's of "Sarah and Susan win a Trip to Hollywood" posts lately. Probably my favorite part of our trip was a visit to LACMA. It was pretty great. I think the Getty is a beautiful place, but this museum had some of that CA art "we don't care" (but we secretly do) attitude. Gotta love the west!

Outside the Museum. Chris Dunker.

The building was deliciously 70s.

A museum intern took this picture for us. I hope he's not an aspiring photographer.

This was probably our favorite thing. Giant car city. Those blurs are 1100 matchbox cars. Also by Chris Dunker/

View from above.

So nice to be in real museums.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Hello Katie

I'm a wee bit bleary-eyed at the moment after spending far too much of the last few days reading about how freshman interpret the layout of their campus art museum. Two things:
- The museum floor plan is NOT "just like IKEA"
- There is no excuse for writing "I guess" in a formal assignment. When did this start happening? Why does the graduating class of 2016 start (and/or end) each sentence with "I guess"?!

INTERROBANG

Anyway, one time my mom and I met Katie Couric. Don't believe me?

The pics don't lie!

It was very fun to watch the filming of a TV show--I don't think I would have cared what show I was watching, because I really enjoyed watching the crew scurry around.

We're pumped...and it's 8:30 in the morning! So much fun with my mom.

I did get a bit impatient when they adjusted the little sectional couches for the fortieth time. I've decided that the best odd job I can think of is to be a seat filler for audience member's with full bladders. Each time one person leaves a nice looking guy runs over to fill their seat and smiles. Awesome. I would rock at that job.

This probably doesn't need to be said, but Katie Couric is really nice. She is. She's a nice person. She told Will.I.Am (how do you spell that) that she really admired his....~~music talent~~ philanthropic efforts. Seriously though, would anyone like a Will.I.Am CD? We also saw Zooey Deschanel. I don't want to leak anything before the show airs (May 8th, by the way) but she was quirky, humble, and a little old fashioned. She wore a short dress, and she had bangs. Have I gone too far? Will The Katie Show producers shut this blog down for leaking show secrets? She was fun to watch though. If I had a teenage daughter I would want her to look up to Zooey Deschanel, over, say, Lindsay Lohan or Rihanna.

I am off to go read about how much the Utah State art museum reminds my students of a corn maze. Gah...

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Hello Hollywood

My mom entered a contest. She won. I now believe that we should all enter contests. On Friday, I skipped work (skipped is not the right word, I escaped from work) and we flew to L.A. We will now begin with the photo diary portion of our tour...

We ate a muffin on the plane. Total win.

When we got to the airport, I remembered that I hate LAX after accidentally leaving the airport during a connection last summer--I had to wander around the (dodgy) airport until I found an entrance and then go through security again. This time...I had no trouble navigating. I wish this guy would meet me all over the place. After work. Outside my dentist's office. OR just pop up whenever I'm lost.

Not so sure he loved having his picture taken...

We spent the afternoon running away from superheros on Hollywood Boulvard. We did not quite get away from a persistent Japanese astronaut who grabbed on to my hand and said "photo?" for a few minutes. Don't worry folks, I didn't give in. Hmmmm, now I'm kind of wishing I had a picture of that astronaut lady. Shucks. We found some stars and hand prints that reminded us of loved ones.

Michelle Phiffer for my Dad, James Franco for Michael, and Robert Downey Jr. for Mandy. I'm sure they're pumped about how thoughtful we are.

The Hollywood sign!

That was our hotel, and in other news the third Hangover movie is coming out.

We signed up for a startour in one of those big buses. Well, we thought we signed up for a startour in one of those big buses. We actually signed up for a low-budge farmer truck bounce about. It was more fun that way though.

We saw some celebrity houses which were beautiful--Bragelina's was very ugly though, I have to say--and enjoyed driving through such pretty areas. My favorite was seeing the mansion for the Godfather and my Mon liked/was shocked by Steven Speilberg's massive house on the hill.

There it is. Apparently Ironman was filmed there.

Perhaps the most fun part of tour was making fun of the 'highlights' of the tour.

Tour guide: This is the mailbox that Lindsay Lohan hit.
My Mom: The first time or the second time?
Tour Guide: This is the grocery store where the stars shop.
--two minutes later we passed another grocery store--
My Mom: This is another grocery store where the stars shop.

I explained who Selena Gomez is to my out-of-touch mother. The little French girl next to me perked right up when we passed Taylor Lautner's house. 'Ohhhh, un werewolf!!!' I creepily eavesdropped in their conversation about 'Le Twillight.'

Johnny Depp had some strange Norman Rockwell-esque statues in front of his house. Maybe I should have stopped at Johnny Depp had some strange...

The most ridiculous part of the tour was probably when we stopped for at least a minute to view the driveway that the 'ambulance that drove Michael Jackson to the hospital came out of.' Golly gee mister!...that's weird. Let's go look at the fences around the playboy mansion, shall we?

We capped the day off by wandering a few dodgy side streets (I blame the maps app on my phone) for some Thai food and getting ready for our Katie Couric adventure. I think that deserves a blog post of it all.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

In Which Purple Hair got me a Promotion

Yep, here comes a hair post.

Around Christmas, I put some purple on my hair. Not straight purple, I mixed some purple on with darker brown. It was a big deal--I'd never died my hair before. I even took my friend Mandy for moral support. The purple was just fun to me, but others cautioned that I would have trouble at work or that I would regret it.

There were three reasons I did it: I was bored; I was feeling a bit boring; and I was bored. Ok, two reasons.

Michael warmed up to it right away. Even my mom liked it, kinda.

That night I got a little nervous about going to work. I felt that my hair was news-worthy enough that I would be fielding comments about it all day. Turns out, work was craaaazy weird. Why you ask? Because nobody said. a. word. I got one 'evil twin' comment from the building manager, but my coworkers were mum. It was weird and spiked my paranoia reflex. It also made me wonder if I was so self obsessed that I was just walking around begging for attention. What was next? Short skirts? Tennis shoes that light up when you walk? Wearing a Wisconsin Cheesehead? All my thoughts were a little frantic and then I remembered -- these people are the crazy ones. When I think about it, I shouldn't have been surprised that my coworkers behaved a little crazily.

The next day, the president of the company asked me who did my hair and told me she thought it was a nice change. Then she said that she thought I handled myself well around my coworkers who were behaving oddly and offered me a promotion, a raise, and a fancy Human Resources title. Do you need a moral? If you are strange about your coworkers' purple hair you might just get past up for a promotion.

I told this story to my hair dresser today and she was stoked. She said she should print it on her business cards.

Here's my hair a few weeks after dying it. Well, the beard and eyebrows are added--in case you couldn't tell--but it's a pretty accurate image of the hair color.

My hair is now back to brown in preparation for my wedding day fantasies. Maybe I'm not so bored anymore (although I did cut bangs to keep me interested), or maybe I don't feel the need to climb the corporate ladder this month.

So, go do it. Dye it up!

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Here We Go Again

The more you don't blog, the more amazing your blog must be when you blog again. It is like waiting too long before a first kiss. Hold on, maybe not. Perhaps it's a case of delayed gratification, like finally reaching a rest stop while driving through Nebraska. I'm going with the delayed gratification. So, you're welcome for blogging.

I've been running like a crazy person. Sometimes I think running like a crazy person and running like a person who runs are the same thing. This has been a really good thing, though, especially since I get to run with my friend Ashley. Since we started running, she got engaged which has lead to wedding planning runs and Sarah-complains-about-her-job runs. Ashley is the best person to complain to. I hope she takes that as a compliment.

I do no hate my job. Love my boss. Love spreadsheets. Love handing out paychecks--I'm like Santa every other week. Hate the instability. Hate the frantic pace. Hate the drama that come with HR. Startup companies....exciting and frustrating. It certainly has been a good change of pace and perspective from school, but a little part of me is counting down.

I continue to love helping with a class from my alma mater. I'm currently reading (bad) essays about campus architecture. How many times can Old Main be spelled Olde Main, Old Maine, or Olde Maine?????

Anyway, I'm back to the bliggity blog. You can look forward to the salt lake half, Moose's continual cuteness and a dresser refinishing project that just shouts 'blog about me; I'm soooo pinnable.'

Monday, February 25, 2013

Treasures

I'm in AZ, hanging out with four little monkeys. We have lots of conversations about very important things like what kind of tomatoes dogs like most and what happens when you sleep on your bed upside down (you have "dizzy dreams," by the way).

I'm feeling lucky to be here watching these guys while their parents take a much-deserved, but not carefree break; they are in California right now to take care of their other kids. I'm thinking they should go on a real vacation sometime.

Just before Chloe got on the bus (made it on time, whew!) she said, casually "Sarah, set up the treasure hunt for when we get home." Did we discuss this? About five minutes before Morgan made it home I put a few clues around the house. Before we started, Morgan told me to take a picture. When I pulled out my phone, they all said "Noooo," and laughed like I'd told a hilarious joke. Did we discuss this? Apparently this treasure hunt was worthy of my new, fancy camera.

I then became a bit nervous...this was not a very elaborate treasure hunt. I'll give it away: the treasure is a can of Sprite. Before we opened the first clue, Brynn stopped us to put her shoes on. Of course. Then she changed her mind. Naturally. Here are a few pictures of the epic hunt and a video "to send to Mom and Dad." Those kids crack me up.

GO!

I told them the clues where blue, so Brynn spent the next few minutes gathering all the blue things in the room.

Found it!

I'm not sure what about clue face is so hilarious, but...

...it's contagious.

Brynn's turn to read the clue. That was...interesting. This clue was my favorite, it was about a Moose book.

They are overly excited about their prizes. We might have to do this again.

The picture below is rather awful (I might need some camera tips from Jen), but it's my favorite. Gah, Brynn is killing me in these pictures with the up-side-down clue. Also, when did Morgan turn 15?

Here's the video, they were soaking in their victory:

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Rusty: My Happy Thing

February, 2013

If you are anything like me, you might need to relax before you read this blog post. I wouldn't recommend doing so on your work break or while you sit at a drive through. I don't expect you to be overcome with emotion by my incredible writing techniques, but rather by the story of the best dog in the world.

I was in seventh grade when I began hassling. Now, I consider myself a very good hassle-r (ask Michael), but I must have been a childhood prodigy, because I carried out a successful "I want to get a dog" campaign around the Taylor household. I had wanted to get a dog for a few years, mostly because we occasionally got to babysit our friends' dogs and because I was having a hard time with my friends at school (seventh grade, right?) and liked the idea of having a buddy. But, alas, I was out-reasoned each time I brought it up by my parents who insisted that we couldn't have a dog while our house was under construction. After two years (and a LOT of construction) there was a new section of house...and no dog. Each day, I dragged a white board easel into the center of the brand new living room and spent about a half an hour writing out "I want a dog" in various scripts and colors. The easel was well-stocked with dry erase markers, since I was the daughter of a teacher, and I had perfected the "wet paper towel technique" which allowed me to make polka dots; these were rather impressive examples of passive hassling. I started this at the beginning of the school year and by Thanksgiving (quite to my surprise) my parents gave in.

My dad visited me in my room while I happily stuck American Girl Doll stickers all over my bed and he gave in. He just said, "okay." And I've been hassling ever since. My mom told me, on Rusty's last day, that getting him was still the best idea I've ever had. She's right.

We got Rusty from the local Humane Society. We like to go there. I remember liking him because he wasn't barking, and he let me put his leash on before flying out of the pen. Some of the other dogs were a bit overwhelming for all 90 pounds of me. When we took him outside, he chased my dad and sister and I all around the exercise field. I remember that we sat on a short concrete wall and he put his front paws up on it so we could properly admire and pet him--and so that he could get closer to kiss our faces. When we put him back into his pen, he sat down and put one paw up on the chain link. I've blogged about that before.

We were too late to adopt him that day, so we came back the next day. I remember being very mad at my dad, because I was sure that someone else would get him before we could come back. But, we got Rusty. I named him, while my dad filled out the adoption paperwork. We got him a red and black collar and a black leash, some milk bones, and a fleecy beige-colored bone.

Someone had brought Rusty to the Humane Society, which seems crazy to me. He had been there for a very long time-- about four months-- which was longer than most other dogs. One family had adopted him and brought him back. This all seems outrageous to me, but at the same time somehow fated, because I can't imagine my life without him and I'm going to bet that no family could love him as much as we did. I know there are many other people who know and love Rustle. My parents and sister, obviously, but I feel like every single person who has been important to my in my life has known and loved Rusty. He was a therapy dog for my college roommates far from home, the hiking companion of my high school friends who called him "Rusty, Rusty, Rusty" while he hunted gophers on Mt. Olympus, Michael's good friend, Moose's role model... essentially, everyone in my life has a relationship with Rusty.

On Monday, my mom took Rusty to the vet, because he wasn't eating very well. The doctor prescribed antibiotics and thought it may be doggy flu. By Tuesday night, Rusty hadn't eaten anything and was having a very hard time breathing. My dad and I drove to the pet instacare, where we learned that there was fluid around Rusty's heart, making it impossible for him to breath easily. This was probably due to a cancerous tumor or growth that had burst a blood vessel. There were options: surgery, chemo therapy, but no cure. Although, it was terrible to say the words "let him go" out loud, it was even worse to watch him pant and look up at us with scared eyes. Less than a week before, Rusty had hiked to the top of Milcreek canyon with my mom. He never had to be sick. He never had to be old. Despite his 15-16 years, Rusty trotted whenever someone lead him outside, jumped into the back of my parent's Escape, and never passed up the opportunity for a walk. I sit here wondering how a happy, healthy puppy could take such a turn so quickly, but I also feel lucky that he was able to have such a healthy life. Outside of the occasional incident with fudge or turkey carcasses, Rusty was never sick. He was never in pain.

Especially after spending time with Moose, who manages to fall over if he stands up to quickly, my strongest impression of Rusty is his grace. I think of his careful foot placement while the two of us hiked over the shale at the top of Mt. Timpanogos. He always leapt onto the couch and reversed into a spot right in between two of us, where he would pant and smile at us while we watched TV. He would lunge from the basement stairs into the back screen door, putting his two front paws on the latch, to escape into the backyard. He even learned how to let his nephew (Moose) out by going through this process twice. My dad and I took Rusty climbing once and when we reached the top, we looked down to find that Rusty had completed the first pitch, about 25 feet of the ground and was standing on a ledge looking up at us and wagging his tail. We used to go rollerblading down the big hill at Cottonwood park. I would climb to the top, get a running start and then race him down, letting go of his leash. He would always beat me by a few paces and then loop back so I could pick up his leash. We went backpacking in the Uintah mountains last year after a lot of flooding. While the rest of us were tumbling over fallen trees and trudging through swamps, Rusty would find the easiest way (teaching us all to start following him) and on the way back, he'd remember his secret passages perfectly.

I think that Rusty entered and exited our lives gracefully. I could tell thousands of Rusty stories, as I'm sure many other people could. But, I just want to say thanks to my Bubba for being my happy thing everyday for 14 years.

I have some recent pictures, that I've posted below.