Germans Take Sundays and Speeding Seriously.

Things I've noticed as an American living in Germany:

1. Germans take Sundays and speeding, seriously.
On Sundays virtually all grocery stores are closed, all shopping centers, about half of the restaurants, and astonishingly even websites!

I personally love it.  It forces you to take a day and just relax.  Spend it with your family, and do nothing.  Companies in Germany have also introduced measures such as no emailing after work hours.  During vacations instead of coming back to 200 unread emails, you come back to ZERO.  All of your emails have bounced back to the sender because you were out.  As someone who just got an email at 0705 on a Saturday with tasks I need to do on Monday, I can tell you that sounds awesome!  http://time.com/3116424/daimler-vacation-email-out-of-office/ 

Now on to the speeding situation, they LOVE speed cameras.  They are EVERYWHERE.  Seriously.  It's a right of passage to get your first speed camera ticket.  It took 7 months for me to get one.  In that amount of time I have a friend who has received 7.
But it's not just the government that takes it seriously, it's the Germans themselves.

On one particular jaunt home from work, I came to find that the exit on a roundabout to my home was blocked for construction.  I had no idea how to get home.  My GPS just kept rerouting me back to the closed road. So, I was stuck.  I figured if I could just sort of attempt to go left I could get behind the blocked road.  I was frustrated and tired, and I'll fully admit - speeding.  As I rolled down a street at about 50K (residential areas are 30K), I ran into a dead-end and had to make a 5-point turn to get out.  Once I began heading back I had to slam on the brakes because in the middle of the road were two VERY angry German men shouting at me.  While I couldn't understand them, I could interpret the gist of what they were saying.  I rolled down my window, did the international sign for I have no idea what's going on (shrugged my shoulders with my hands in the air), and then said, "HELP, I'M LOST."  Immediately the one man's demeanor changed and he asked in stilted English, "You want to go where?"  HOME.  Then he really got a look of pity, like this poor girl doesn't even know how to get to her house.  He knew where I was trying to get to (because the type of neighborhood busy-body that yells at a speeder always know what's going on with construction in their 'hood), then gave me directions with lots of motioning of how to get home.  Thank you sir.

2. Rolladens are the bees' knees. 
These beauts block out all the sun so you can sleep in, or keep your non-air conditioned place cool in the summer, and warm in the winter, or keep the creepers out if you're worried about that.  You don't need blinds or curtains.  AND, if you're super cool like my apt, they're wireless.  When my first alarm goes off, I hit the rolladen button that's within arm's length to have some natural sunlight pour in, wait out another 1 or 2 snoozes and then wake up.

3. WWII Bombs are all over the place.
There are legitimately unexploded WWII bombs all over the place...like in the woods near base where we host 5ks.  No big deal.  No need to be alarmed.  It's only a 500 pounder, and they're evacuating to detonate it.
https://www.stripes.com/news/facilities-near-stuttgart-to-be-closed-for-wwii-bomb-disposal-1.498116

4. Eating at restaurants is an occasion, not a convenience. 
You can show up to a restaurant that looks abandoned with lots of tables open and be told they don't have room for you.  They're not lying.  Those tables are reserved.  When you make a reservation in Germany they reserve the table for the night.  Eating at a restaurant is an occasion, you wine, you dine, you dessert or coffee.  You enjoy the company of the people you're with.  There's rarely a phone in sight...or a waiter for that matter.  They don't disturb you.  They let you relax.  There's no constant refills, or giving you the check.  You have to flag someone down and ask for all of the above.  I LOVE IT.  My friend and I went out for dinner and dined for 4 hours.  We legitimately weren't bothered by anyone for the last 2.  We just talked.  It was delightful.  Now I know it's different than America because the wait staff actually make a reasonable wage here and therefore don't need to turnover the table to get more tips.  The fact that they pay their people well is just one more reason why I love it.

5. Everybody hikes.
You've got a baby?  Strap them on.  You've got bad knees?  Get a pole.  There's no excuse for not hiking.  I can't go a day without seeing someone with walking poles.  They enjoy it profusely.  Even now that it's cold, I saw two people walking with their poles.  Go on with your bad selves.

6. They trust every one to do the right thing.
I went on a hike where there was a shed built over a lil creek.  There were radlers (beer and lemonade mixed together, quite popular here and incredibly delicious in the summer!), and other beers in crates in the stream.  There was also some schnapps if that was your delight in the middle of your 5 mile hike.  There was a suggested pricing list, and a lock box.  Take your drink, drop in your money, and hope for the best.  It's the same with blumen fields.  There's gorgeous fields of flowers (or I saw pumpkins in the fall) ripe for the picking, and then a lock box for you to just drop in some money.  It's refreshing, and miraculously it works!

I miss days like these.

Seeing Teddy come back through KAF this time not wounded

Some of us USO girls were at the DFAC (dining facility) on base when we saw this soldier who was probably 125 pounds soaking wet, all bandaged up, and in obvious pain, with sweatpants on him that were HUGE.  And it was way too hot in August 2011 for sweatpants. We came to call him "Brock Puppy," because he was so sweet and young. We knew we needed to do something for our wounded warriors who were medevac'd (medically evacuated) to KAF and stuck there recuperating until they were deemed fit enough to go back into battle at their FOBs (Forward Operating Bases). So, we stopped by the wounded warrior barracks with blenders to make them smoothies.

The 10th Mountain Crew's "It Was Not Our Time" picture
 including Schuh, Brock Puppy and Teddy

It was incomprehensible to me that their biggest complaints were not the pain they had from shrapnel in their sides or bullet holes in their shoulders, but that they wished they were back with their guys on the FOB.  They missed feeling "useful."  I jokingly said, alright I can put you to work! Come volunteer! They took me up on it, and came by every day to volunteer. During one shift I asked Schuh to change the movie in the movie theater and handed him 2 remotes. He gave me a look of 'this is confusing how am I supposed to work this,' so I gave him an encouraging slap on the arm and said, "you got this!" His eyes turned HUGE as he took a deep breath and said between gritted teeth, "THAT'S THE ARM WITH SHRAPNEL IN IT." I felt so badly! I wounded a wounded warrior! He was fine of course, and they all made it a big joke with putting tape on his arm to warn me which one was his "bad arm." A few days later while working the front desk he worked a piece of the shrapnel out of his arm, and I held it in my hand. It was this tiny piece of metal no bigger than an earring back but as sharp as a razor blade on all sides. I had been in country for already a year at that point, but in that moment it all became very real what was going on outside the wire, far away from my plushy big base. (Schuh would later be awarded USO Volunteer of the Year in 2012).

They were a great help at the center, and a lot of fun to be around. They made me crack up when one of the girls was driving the USO van, and they joked that they survived the fire fight, but now were going to die from bad driving in a minivan.  They volunteered through the pain.  They claimed it helped them to have something to do to take their mind off it.  They were so fantastic that when one of their other friend's was wounded several weeks later, he brought himself to the USO to volunteer.  He'd been told it was the best way to recuperate.  (That was the very sweet, Malm).

After about a month, they returned to their FOBs to get back to duty. We were sad to see them go, but knew that's where they wanted to be. A few months later they came back through our base to return to the states. It was so good to see them happy and healthy and going home!  (See picture above.)

Almost all of them are now out of the Army 5 years later. All of us USO girls are no longer at KAF. I find myself talking with the USO girls about that same concept our wounded warriors mentioned 5 years ago; we miss feeling "useful." It's not that you're not happy with your life or loved ones, or friends, or career even, it's just that feeling of not being instantaneously needed and like what you're doing is bringing about a change in someone's life right that second. It’s something you don’t know that you’re missing until you’ve experienced it.

I remember when I attended a TEC (Teens Encounter Christ) retreat weekend many moons ago that I was on a “God high.”  I was ready to run the world.  One of our leaders warned us that while we had changed, the world we would return to after that retreat weekend had not.  If we didn’t temper our enthusiasm, we’d be disappointed in everyone and everything come Monday.

Now multiply that weekend by 21 months, throw in some life-altering experiences, and amplify the danger, stress, and fun by about 1654 percent.  It’s a difficult high to come down from.

How to fake being an adult

Cook and serve a delicious meal.
If you got that, you look like you have it ALLLLLLL together.

Want to impress a potential love interest?
"Let me just whip up some pan-seared steak with roasted butternut squash and green beans almondine.  It's nothing.  I do this all the time."

Want to impress your colleagues?
"Oh, for lunch I'm just having some leftover chicken paillard with roasted parmesan-crusted asparagus and smashed potatoes that I made yesterday."

Want to impress your parents who know that your "fancy dinner" used to be a microwaved chicken patty on top of spaghetti that you generously called, Chicken Parmesan?
"Gotta go mom, my pork dan dan noodles with watermelon radish and garlic-lime peanuts is almost ready."

Yeah.  You sound like a legit adult.

Place those meals on some breakable plates you got from your roommate's relative and pair it with boxed wine in a glass you got free from a tasting, and it's full blown successful adulting.

For added fun when discussing a delicious meal you get to use words you have to google to pronounce, with ingredients you have never heard of before.  "Well when the farro was ready, I tossed it in the shallot citronette."

The Set Up

• I tried Blue Apron, Plated, and Hello Fresh.
• I bought the plan that had 3 meals a week for 2 people. 

The Pricing

• Blue Apron - $59.94
• Plated -$72
• Hello Fresh $69

Blue Apron was in the lead for the pure price alone.  Plated, get over yourself.  BUT, if you refer a friend to Hello Fresh they get $40 and you get $20 off your next order.  So.....CHA -CHING.

The most adorable hot sauce ever!

The Delivery

• I'm a fan of Happy Hour, so I appreciate that Hello Fresh' delivery stayed cold until 9 pm.  My parents' Blue Apron showed up warm, and they called them and got a new free box of 3 meals with minimal hassle.
• Out of the gate, I like Hello Fresh' delivery style.  Each meal is in its own separate box, so it's easy to just stack the 3 boxes and remove from the fridge when ready instead of throwing bags of different veggies and meats into the fridge only to then have to dig through days later to find all the necessary ingredients for your meal.  (Yes, I'm THAT lazy that this step matters.)  

The Ingredients

• EVERY. SINGLE. RECIPE. of Plated had at least one onion in it.  I despise onions.
• Ingredients I was pumped to use for the first time ever: endives, tarragon, cavatelli pasta, watermelon radish, and farro
• I haven't cooked any raw meat other than chicken or ground beef in my life.  I enjoyed learning how to cook mouth watering shrimp and steak!

The Directions

• Blue Apron requires an additional set of hands and preferably a culinary degree.  The directions are so complicated, and you're supposed to be simultaneously sautéing, boiling, and chopping.  It took FOR-EV-ER.  I actually had to reheat the meat because my sides weren't ready yet.  Then there's the extra 30 minutes you need to budget for washing every pan, mixing bowl, cutting board, sharp knife and large spoon you own.
• Plated and Hello Fresh directions tell you what pans, bowls, etc. you'll need.
• Hello Fresh created the least amount of dishes.

My presentation was on point!

The Deliciousness

• Blue Apron dishes were delicious, and were meals I would NEVER have cooked on my own.  There was enough for leftovers as well.
• Plated was fine, but nothing exceptional, and smallest serving size by far.
• I have dreams about Hello Fresh' Shrimp Po Boys with Remoulade and Creole Wedge Salad and Ginger Marinated Steak Wraps with Pickled Cucumber, Carrot and Jasmine Rice.  I'm salivating right now.

The Winner

• Coming in the middle for price, but the top place for ease of actual cooking, deliciousness of entree and amount of leftovers for lunch the next day, IT'S HELLO FRESH!

So if you would like to fake being an adult with ease just like me, use my code and get $40 off your first Hello Fresh box.

www.hellofresh.com/raf-helloshare/?c=SK9JP3

Nicholas Sparks, I got this.

Like millions of Americans, I love Nicholas Sparks' books...and most of the movie adaptations.  (Let's face it A Walk to Remember was just horrid.)

I began reading his books in high school.  While I was busy being awkward and not being asked to high schools dances, I devoured the romance of Noah telling Allie, 'If you're a bird, I'm a bird.'  I imagined a high-school boy driving me to a state line just so I could be in two places at one time like Landon and Jamie.

Because my mother is a voracious reader herself, she was thrilled to see me excited about a book series, and quickly purchased each one as they were released.  My favorite was, and continues to be, The Rescue.  I've read it too many times to count.  I remember loving it then because the hero was a sexy firefighter, and the heroine was a strong single mother providing for her special needs son.  I love it now, because the heroine is a strong single mother providing for her special needs son.

It's worth repeating, because it's a rarity in Nicholas Sparks' writing style.  Novel after novel the "heroine" or perhaps a better term is, "leading lady" (LL from here on out), is weak.  She either has an overbearing father or a jealous ex-lover, and the poor heartbroken LL just doesn't know what to do with herself because all she wanted is love.  Well, bless her heart, praise Jesus, there was a big strong man to swoop in and save that delicate flower.  (And, yes, his strength is actually integral to the storyline given that in most of these stories he does physically beat up the jilted ex-lover.)

A quick work cited page to further my thesis:
The Notebook: LL needs saved from her father, then saved from her impending loveless marriage
A Walk To Remember: LL needs saved from death
Nights in Rodanthe:  LL needs saved from a killer storm
The Guardian: (now we're just getting lazy and putting it in the title) LL needs saved from a murderer
The Lucky One: LL needs saved from a jealous ex-husband
Safe Haven: (again pretty spot-on title) LL needs saved from an abusive ex-husband
The Longest Ride: LL needs saved from a jealous boyfriend

Here's the thing Nicholas Sparks, I got this.  I don't need saved.  I do need a book with a strong leading lady who can fend for herself.  I know I can find this type of book by other authors, but the problem is you sucked me in.  Naive, day-dreaming, 15 year-old Sarah loved the writing, and less naive, still hopelessly romantic, 29 year-old Sarah is hoping I can again.

And I do still have hope for you, Mr. Sparks.  Just look at Disney.  After 76 years of damsels in distress being saved by princes' kisses, Disney served up the highest grossing animated film of all time about the power of two sisters who can save each other.


Law and Order SVU is the 6th longest running prime-time television series of all time, and the 3rd longest running that is currently still in production.  Want to know why?  I think it's because Olivia Benson is one bad ass LL who doesn't need saving.

So next time you're typing away staring at the lapping waves hitting the pier of the charming, idyllic, small, North Carolina coastal town you're writing from, consider this Mr. Sparks...I got this, and your LL should too.

#icebucketchallenge

For me this ice bucket challenge is about my uncle.  He is bravely battling ALS right now.  I want the world to know about this debilitating disease that attacks your neurons and ultimately paralyzes you a little at a time.  It’s a fatal disease for which there is no cure.

For me the ice bucket challenge isn’t about narcissism, or “hashtag activism,” or any other negative term that some article wants to use to drag everybody down. 

It’s as simple as this:

For me the ice bucket challenge is about doing what I can to support the ones I care about. 

If I can have 30 seconds of discomfort to encourage others to donate money that will be used to find a way to eradicate this disease that literally kills everyone it comes in contact with, then I’m going to do it.  And, I’m going to challenge EVERYONE to do it.  And, I’m going to donate.  And, I’m going to blog about it.  And, I’m going to talk about it, and like it, and share it, and be proud of it.

Because, you see, supporting something isn’t just about donating money for it…

It’s about:

                        Running - Charity Miles

                        BBQing - TeamUSO

                        Baking - Soldiers' Angels

                        Listening - Stop Soldier Suicide

                        Comforting - TAPS (Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors)

                        Photographing - Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

                        Building - Habitat for Humanity

                        Responding - Team Rubicon

                        Crafting - Operation Write Home

                        Mentoring - Big Brothers Big Sisters

                        And yes, even Freezing - ALS Association

Find your verb, and do it for what you want to support.  That’s the real challenge.

Be the change you want to see in the world. - Gandhi

Human Interaction

I am an extrovert.  I know; you’re shocked.  I love human interaction.  I need it to survive.  It is why I enjoyed living in a room with 4 other females more than living in an apartment by myself.  It’s also probably why I love my career so much.  I think I get it from my dad who has never met a stranger.

I love engaging strangers in conversation on the elevator.  There was this one hottie a couple weeks ago that we chatted in the elevator, and then later in my head I crafted an entire romantic comedy plot for us filled with mistaken identity and plot twists all starting with our meet cute in the elevator.  (It’s a captivating story…I mean there are 3 Sarahs in my office, what if he wanted to contact me and got the wrong one!) 

I also enjoy learning people’s names like Fedeke is the parking lot attendant at the gym, Rhandy is the concierge I get my packages from at my apartment, Rosslyn works security in the building I work in on the weekends…so on and so forth.



(This is a visual approximation. 
I did not attempt to take a photo while driving.)



Anyway, due to the lovely DC traffic situation I take all back roads to work.  So, on my usual commute I pass multiple bus stops.  It saddens me every day when I see this particular bus stop on Walter Reed and there is a line of 8 people standing there completely silent, all with earbuds in. 



What if this is your chance for a meet-cute?!  (meet-cute: when a female and male love interest meet for the first time in a romantic comedy in an adorable way; definition comes from the romantic comedy, The Holiday) 



Old dude talking about Meet-Cutes in The Holiday


Even if you don’t meet your soulmate, what if you meet someone really cool?  Or at least someone nice, or interesting, or anything?!

Today I was actually on time, so I drove by this particular bus stop a few minutes earlier.  There were only 2 women at the stop, but it was the most brilliant sight…they were laughing!  Not just an obligatory chuckle either, it was the kind of laugh where one of them was bent over holding the wrist of the other one type of laughing.  It was glorious!

It made me really happy!

Now maybe tomorrow I’ll drive past and everyone will be back to staring down at their phones with their earbuds in…or maybe, just maybe, tomorrow morning those two women will at least greet each other first before they tune out the world.

To summarize, when I am with people:

I like doing this                                                                                                   more than this.

My Visit to The Holocaust Museum

The Holocaust Museum made me want to scream as loud as I could, sob in shivers, punch a wall, and stare in disbelief.  Oddly, I did none of these things and instead mumbled numerous times under my breath, "How could this f*&^ing happen?"  

What the NAZIs did, and said, and were, seemed so absolutely far removed from anything resembling our world, and yet it did happen, and not that many years ago.

In most of the museum, you use your sense of sight to read or watch about the horrifying acts that took place.  But the moments when they captured your other senses, are the ones that I remember most.  

I couldn't bear to stay in the train car for more than a brief moment.  Physically being present, my feet touching the wooden bottom of a train car where 100 Jews were packed in like cattle to be transported to concentration camps was almost too much to handle.  In another room there are thousands of shoes, and the stench of burnt leather immediately permeated my nostrils.  It was these sensory experiences that made it too real.

Then there was this quote which captured the feelings I had of helplessness, of being unable to do anything about it now…

The poem, "Babi Yar" was written by Yevgeny Yevtushenko about his visit to Babi Yar 20 years after the NAZIs slaughtered 34,000 people in just 2 days in this ravine outside Kiev, Ukraine.  He showed up expecting to see a memorial, but instead saw a garbage dump.

The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar.

The trees look ominous, like judges.

Here all things scream silently, and, baring my head,

Slowly I feel myself turning grey.

And I myself am one massive, soundless scream

Above the thousand thousand buried here.

A soundless scream of what can I do, I thought.  Then I walked to the end of the museum exhibits where they document the horrors in Rwanda in 1994, Bosnia in 1995, and Darfur in 2003-2005.  How can genocide still be allowed to exist?  Now I didn't just feel helpless, I felt hopeless too.

“When we say ‘never again,’ what does it mean?”

—Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor

In this exhibit of the most recent genocides there is a spot for visitors to answer a question on a piece of paper and place it in a large glass case.  The question asked, “What will you do to meet the challenge of genocide?"

I answered that I would share the stories I heard in Uganda from the women there who fled for their lives from Sudan, many whom lost fathers, brothers, husbands, and even children.  Those who were forced into sexual slavery or to become child soldiers themselves.

As I added my small slip of paper to the others watching it absorb into a case of well meaning intentions, one caught my eye.  It made my visit, and every emotion with it, feel worth it, feel validated, feel hopeful, feel like by only learning about the past can we learn to make a better future.

It was in a child's handwriting, and it said,

What will you do to meet the challenge of genocide?

I will not call people names because they are different.

What a perfect call to action for an imperfect world.  More love.

I love airports

I love airports.  I had this thought tonight as I sat at Reagan National Airport volunteering at the USO there.

There's fantastic people watching, ample food options, the thrill of a new adventure and/or the excitement of a loved one's return.

I consider myself a skilled people watcher.  I enjoy creating vivid backstories for the characters I witness including their interesting accents, illegitimate children, and creepy resemblance to a SVU/Bones/Walker Texas Ranger episode I once saw.  I think my love of people watching was encouraged at a young age when my father and I plopped on a bench while my sisters and mother shopped for what seemed like at least 'three episodes of Reading Rainbow' long.

I love a 'no guilt' reason to buy a new book, multiple magazines, and junk food.  I'm Catholic I feel a lot of guilt about a lot of inconsequential things, so a chance to negate that thrills me.  (I've had a small can of soda in the office fridge for about 3 weeks now, and every time I open that damn fridge I feel pangs of guilt like I'm taking up unnecessary space that someone could use for their random full size expired cottage cheese container). Anyway, travel is the perfect excuse is to go crazy and get the KING size Kit Kat bar, with a side of People's Sexiest Man Alive…and maybe the latest memoir on some religious cult's former member for good measure.

I of course get excited about where I'm going, if it's new and different, or relaxing or exciting, or any reason really!  I also get intrigued to think about who sitting at my gate will be seated next to me.  I play a little mini version of 'would I rather sit next to that guy or that chick?" with all my neighboring chair mates.  And of course if any of them do happen to strike up conversation with me, I have a delightful array of 'well this one time on mil air' stories to completely one-up them.

Then of course the obvious, having lived in Afghanistan for almost 2 years, and then being in a long distance relationship for more than 1 year, I love airports for their arrivals!  After taking an 8, or 12, or even 15 hour flight to see the people you love, to know that someone is waiting for you half way across the state/country/world is a pretty awesome feeling.

And, I'm not the only one with a love affair for these transportation hubs!  There are entire climactic scenes of romantic movies dedicated to airports: Casablanca, The Wedding Singer,  Like Crazy, and of course the following transcendent, unparalleled whopper of a scene -

Next week a thrilling follow-up blog on the appeal of airplanes!
(Just kidding, I wouldn't do that to you…at least it hasn't come to that…yet).

Passport Photo Induced Depression

I'm coining a new psychological term: passport photo induced depression.

No one, and I mean no one, should be subjected to seeing two incredibly close head shots of themselves, that are taken 10 years apart.

I was having a good hair day, had on a cute scarf, I was ready!  Passport photo day, let's do this!  Then I saw the results from the doorway in the fluorescently lit CVS…I have under-eye bags, the beginnings of what I can only explain as eyelid wrinkles, and an increasingly asymmetrical forehead.

Ten years ago I was the picture of youth!  Not a wrinkle, or bag, or non-horizontal eyebrow to be seen!  I was an 18 year old leaving her country for the first time!  I was the picture of fresh faced, and now I'm the picture of embattled.

Cue the violins!  Bring out the tissues!  Bring on the big wine glass and the secret chocolates from the fridge vegetable drawer!

I was having a case of passport photo induced depression.  (Feel free to spread that around, I'm making it a thing).

But then a friend said something seemingly insignificant, 'uh yeah you look different you were a baby then.'  

He's right.  I was a baby.  So what if through some stress and uncertainty and accidents and awesomeness and genetics I look different than I did before.  I've always looked different, because I'm me.  Besides my two sisters, I don't resemble anyone else's mixed bag of DNA.  

It got me thinking about two baby girls I know who were born with conditions that formed their skulls differently than others.  I think about the world that I want them to grow up in. 

A world where they will be seen just as I want any other young girl, or old girl for that matter, to be seen: for her intelligence, passion, strength, imagination, ingenuity and zest for life! 

So that brings me to this point…Today I didn't understand what was publicized on our Human Resource's update about one of my coworker's finalizing an adoption of three children.  The picture accompanying the story seemed to be from the early 1990s, but the adoption was this year.  So I did what anyone in my position would do, and asked someone and just created one of my own conspiracy theories.  

Why couldn't she post a recent picture, I asked myself.  Myself logically answered that they were in the witness protection program, so she wasn't allowed to share current photos.  But, then why were they in the witness protection program?  Obviously, their father was a mafia boss and he and the mother were taken out by a professional hit.  Then to protect the children they were given new identities and sent to foster care where my sweet coworker adopted all three of them and agreed to never share anymore recent photos.  

Well, after telling this completely rational story to one of my other coworker's who is good friends with the mother of the witness protection children she told me through fits of laughter that I must tell the mother.  The mother howled with laughter at my completely believable story and said, "You have such a grand imagination!"  Then after the conversation, she emailed me a more recent picture to prove they're legit members of society.  Therefore now I'm pretty sure federal marshals are going to burst through my door at any minute, so I tidied my living room up just in case.  Anyway, then I retold the whole story to my boss later and she said, "I'm so lucky to have someone with such a colorful imagination working here."

So that's what I want you to remember from this post today: not that Sarah has an asymmetrical forehead, but that Sarah has a pretty crazy, yet entertaining, imagination.  :)

How do you solve a problem like…Carrie Underwood's horrible acting?

The Sound of Music is a classic.  As a child I would wear the kitchen curtain on my head, and unlike most young girls who would pretend to be a bride, I pretended to be a nun - specifically Maria.  I would swing any bag with a handle around singing at the top of my lungs pretending it was a guitar case and my WV backyard was the streets of Austria, wherever that was.

I distinctly remember singing The Lonely Goatherd for a spring musical in grade school.  I also remember St. Michael Grade School's performance of The Sound of Music where I dreamily stared at my newfound crush, Captain von Trapp, also known as my soon to be freshman year Sadie Hawkins date, Alex.

In my house my mother has three movies that are the holy grail: Gone with the Wind, White Christmas, and The Sound of Music.  Needless to say my quoting of "I don't know nothing about birthing no babies," and "Mutual, I'm sureeeeeeeeee" added to my 3rd grade cool kid status.

Anyway, point being it's a classic, and not to be trifled with.  And trifled with, they did.  I get the whole - they're doing the stage version, not the movie version - idea.  I mean I am still a bit disappointed that a lot of the songs are out of order, but at least they are in there.  What bothers me is Carrie Underwood's horrible acting.  The girl's got pipes, but her constant staring directly at the camera when she is supposed to be speaking to another character, and anticipation of another character's movement before it happens is distracting, and downright, annoying.

There is no character development whatsoever.  If you had not seen the original movie, you'd have no clue why after what appears to be two days of being the children's nanny, she abruptly leaves after one dance with their father who miraculously now sings nonstop when two days prior he was whistling like an A-hole.

Now this may be me acting as a bit of a bully, but the kids weren't as adorable or endearing either.  Gretel was forgettable, Brigitta wasn't nearly sassy enough, and Kurt was not "incorrigible." (Remember his introduction Sound of Music purists?)

Then they basically ignored the entire NAZI plot line until the very last minute when it was unavoidable.  The saving grace was Carrie's voice, and surprisingly Frau Elsa Schrader's performance.  She looked very familiar, then I realized she was Benson's partner's ex-wife on Law and Order SVU. Who knew she could sing?  She also completed a stunning recovery after an extra stepped on her dress.

Not only was the word NAZI never even mentioned once in the entire live performance, the actual NAZIs seemed to be cast the day before the show and forgot all their lines.

Oh yeah, and Maria and Captain Von Trapp?  ZERO, ZIP, NADA chemistry.  She looked as awkward and unnatural as a sorority girl flirting with her 65 year old pot bellied professor to get a higher grade.

In conclusion, I would like to see how the sales of The Sound of Music, Julia Andrews version, will inevitably spike tomorrow.  Carrie, you beautiful, Godly gifted singer, leave the "acting" to only your music videos where I will gladly support you.

Disclaimer: I have no technical expertise in any of this, unless you consider being star of the 6th grade Christmas pageant as expertise.  I rocked that elf costume.

Why I am “obsessed” with Facebook, and why I’m okay with that

Multiple men in my life, my friends, and my immediate and my extended family have all said the same thing to me about my “obsession” with Facebook: it’s unhealthy, not right, weird, a waste of time, and stupid.

The same exact comments could be said about someone who is obsessed with internet porn.  Yet, we’re talking about Facebook.  Why does this reflect poorly on me as a human being?  Why is being active on social media a character flaw?

I don’t get all my worldly updates from Facebook.  I read USAToday, Huffington Post, the Washington Post, and Yahoo News on a nearly daily basis. 

I’m not selling jewelry, fitness advice, or nail polish. 

I’m not asking people to agree with me. I’ve already been defriended by a few people for my support of gay marriage.

I’m not hiding behind social media to not participate in my real life.  Yeah, I kind of/sort of have a pretty awesome one.

I’m not crafting my image, trying to find dates, or looking for followers. 

Then why not write this blog in my journal?  Why not just exclusively call or text my friends, instead of Facebooking?

The only reason I’ve got; the only reason I can wrack my brain to come up with is, because I like learning.  I like learning about women’s issues, race issues, unemployment issues, healthcare issues, and yes even issues of how to fix my hair in 5 minutes on a hurried Monday and how the Hills stars can describe the situation in Syria.

I like learning about how one friend gave up how his worldly possessions, packed up his family, and became bible translators in Africa because they felt called.  I like learning how someone in 2013 can think global warming doesn’t exist.  I like learning about GMOs and how one friend, who is a scientist, thinks they’re good, and another who is a full time mom thinks they’re ruining our food and our planet.   I like learning about Kony and Karzai and union strikes and rape allegations from not only the news, but from the people it affects, from the people I call my friends.

I can read about Kony in Uganda on CNN, and I can see pictures of my friend in Uganda working with women and their children who were sex slaves and child soldiers of Kony’s.  I can read about a preacher being stopped from burning the Koran on USAToday, and I can sigh with relief to see one of my friends complaining about how bored he is in Afghanistan and surviving just another day without incident.  I can read about the feminists revolt of Pinterest on Huffington Post, and watch my friend as she tries to raise her son without gender specific parenting roles so he’ll respect women.  I can hear all about Obamacare and the horrible wrath it is raining down on all of us on FoxNews, and I can see pictures of my friend’s mother recovering from a cancer her private insurance wouldn’t pay to fight.  I can read of another unemployed veteran searching for work, and I can support the organizations who are trying to do something about it.

I feel connected to a world where people like me, and not like me, are suffering, supporting, blaming, bolstering, lifting up, tearing down, having fun, getting fit, losing, loving, and living.

So I may be wasting my time, ridiculous, self absorbed, addicted, obsessed and annoying. 

Well, at least I’m not watching internet porn.