3 things


According to Google, I am Scott Avett's wife.



Alissa was googling the Avetts last week and noticed a familiar picture under "Scott and Sarah Avett."



I haven't stopped screaming since Friday afternoon when she sent that to me. And then I googled it myself multiple times to verify.

The only bad part is that's the WORST picture from my wedding (to James, not Scott). The infamous chipmunk picture. Look, I love James and I'm not going anywhere, but it isn't every day the internet thinks you're married to a member of your favorite band.

This would also explain why half my blog traffic is from people googling "Scott & Sarah Avett."

2. The neighbor below us often cracks her door open and lets her cat wander around outside a bit. I was walking across the grass on the way home from the gym last night, when the neighbor's cat came bounding toward me and meowing. I was saying hello and petting it when I looked up to see my precious kitty glaring at me in the way only a cat can from the windowsill of our 3rd floor bedroom. I went inside and had a little chat with Noel. I explained that yes, sometimes I see other cats out in the world, and sometime they vie for my attention. And there have been instances in which I've rubbed their bellies to appease them. But at the end of the day, I always come home to you.

And it was at that moment I realized I've become the Don Draper of the pet owner world.

3. James and I went to see Divergent on Saturday. We LOVED it. I'm now obsessed with thinking about what my fear landscape would look like and what would be in it. So far it's making phone calls,  striking up a conversation with a stranger, playing music on my phone at work without pushing in the headphones all the way, and buying feminine products from a male cashier. All during a tornado. I've got the shakes just thinking about it.

That's all I have for you today. Gotta go call Scott to see what he wants for dinner. It's his choice tonight.


some thoughts I've thought

alternate title: an accidental food diary

+ Fried goat cheese balls dipped in honey should be some sort of delicacy. Except don't accidentally call them fried goat balls when describing them to someone like I did. I have a feeling those would probably not be as fantastic. 

+ I made Easter brunch this year, and I'm not going to lie, I think I rocked the house with it. I made a broccoli bacon cheddar quiche (my own made up recipe, let me know if you want it!), spinach and artichoke scones, fruit salad, and creamy lemon crumb squares.

+ There is a lady at work who is the SPITTING IMAGE of Lafawnduh on Napoleon Dynamite. I accidentally took some stealthy pictures of her and texted them to all my friends. It's been confirmed. They're identical. 

I'm 100% positive she's my soulmate, Napoleon
+ Going to work in a fugly outfit will ruin your entire day. Computer not working? It's your pseudo-maternity shirt. Annoying emails? It's those pants that make you look like a hippo. Can't seem to stay awake? Maybe you should finally stop wearing those shoes with those jeans. You look gross. And by you, I mean me. 

+ I love all the pretty flowers on the trees in the springtime, but I have no idea what they're called, and I can't distinguish one flowering tree from the next. I have zero botanical knowledge despite my childhood of gardening with my dad. Everyone's like yay magnolias! dogwoods! cherry blossoms! etc! And I'm like wait! what's that! 

+ I had friendship bread for the first time on Monday. I now understand the name, because after one bite I wanted to be best friends with it.

+ I just really like Tim Allen. He reminds me of my dad.

+ White chocolate M&Ms are a lot better than I expected.

+ If you're noticing I'm talking a lot about food and wondering if it's that time of the month, the answer is yes. 

+ And after all that food I've been eating, I'm starting to feel like this:

Brb, off to get another lemon square.



+ I've been grossed out by chicken for years now. The thought of chicken made me gag and I couldn't go anywhere near it. But lately I have been CRAVING it. I finally ate some with dinner last night and it was everything I was hoping it would be. My vegetarian days may be limited.

+ It's Easter time and everyone's dying eggs, and I don't understand the...a-peel (lolz). I did it maybe one time as a kid, and it's just never been something I've wanted to do. What's the point? What do you do with the eggs after you dye them? I know you can technically eat them, but no way. I know the dye is only on the shell, but I cannot force myself to eat a neon pink egg. I just think the whole thing is really weird.

+ I found this pin yesterday morning, and I haven't laughed so hard at something on the internet in a long time. I don't know why it's so funny to me, but I lost it. And then I was walking around the building at work yesterday when it popped into my head and I lost it all over again.

+ The other business in our building at work had a fish fry on Wednesday to raise money for an employee with cancer, which means I got to eat fried food for a good cause. Except I ate so much, I literally had to unbutton my jeans under my desk for the rest of the afternoon. It was a great moment.

+ My face has been unbelievably dry for the past 6 months, and no amount of moisturizers or coconut oil has done anything to help. At the advice of a coworker, I took a deep breath and bought some Ponds face moisturizer because I'm a 45 year old woman who now smells like an old baptist church during a funeral. I should've checked for unscented, because this stuff has completely redefined the word pungent in that I recoiled so I hard I nearly fell over just from unscrewing the lid.

+ A new guy at work asked me for my number yesterday. It's the first time anything like this has happened since I got married, and I have zero idea how he missed the fact that I'm married, especially since I was waving my ring finger around like a wild woman once he started bragging about playing college football and getting wasted with his "buddies." I thought I had turned him off forever with my response when he asked the always romantic question of "so, do you like to party?" When I said no, he came back with "but you used to like to party, right?" Still no. "Wait, but don't you, like, party sometimes?" He wasn't getting that I truly am not nor have ever been a party animal, so I broke it down for him and told him that if partying means going to bed with a stack of books at 8pm and being asleep by 10, then yes I like to party.

[Clearly he doesn't know me at all, because bragging about football and how much you miss getting wasted every night in college is not the key to my heart, but rather the key to the door I'll use to lock you out of the building. If you want to impress me, tell me about your libraries. Of both the iTunes and book persuasion.]

But then he caught me in the parking lot last night as I was leaving, tried to make some small talk, and asked for my number. And then I bumbled and mumbled and fumbled around like a fool trying to figure out the best to say "DID YOU EVER THINK TO LOOK AT MY LEFT HAND BEFORE ASKING ME THAT?" He didn't, but in his defense he was probably trying to think of new ways to ask if I like to party. We parted on highly awkward terms, and I sat in my car and screamed in an effort to release the embarrassment of the whole situation. It would be one thing if I never had to see him again, but he sits 50 feet away from me 40-50 hours a week. Looks like I'll be taking the long way to the printer from now on.

But the most important aspect of this story is this:  I still got it. 


how to survive when you love a golf fan

I've made it known many times before that I am not a girl who likes sports. I've tried, but I just can't. Like Lady Gaga, I was born this way. Thankfully I'm married to a dude who shares my views. He understands sports and he'll definitely watch them with other guys, but he has never been the type to spend a whole weekend watching football or baseball or fuseball or skeeball or whatever the heck people watch. We would both rather watch the Office for the thousandth time. Sports just aren't our jam.

Until golf, that is.

I have a hard time even typing the word golf. I have a pavlovian response to that word in that I yawn whenever I see or hear it.

James loves golf. He loves to play it and he loves to watch it. The only golf I love is the kind that is on the Wii. And let's be real, the Volkswagen Golf is pretty cute, but I digress. I'm happy that it makes him happy and I'm all for him pursuing his hobbies, but I truly don't understand why he chose the most boring sport of all time to love. I mean, at least football has some action, right? I may have no idea what that action is or what it means, but at least it doesn't put me to sleep. Golf is one of those sports that's fun to play, but watching it is worse than watching paint dry. And when I mean it's fun to play, I mean that I've won countless games of mini golf and I've gone to a driving range twice, so I am obviously qualified to make this assessment. I'm passionately in love with driving ranges because 1. I'm doing something sporty that is not a team sport, and 2. I get to whack things.

The...Masters? (right? I think?) tournament was last weekend, and James warned me for a month that it was coming and that he would be indisposed. I was completely fine with that, because a weekend all to myself sounded fun since we're both super independent and love to do our own things from time to time. However, there were still several hours where I was the third wheel to the James and golf relationship. I tried to watch some with him (more like I was too lazy to go upstairs), and I found myself once again astonished that someone could find this enjoyable.

At the interest of saving relationships everywhere, I've compiled a short list of how to make golf more exciting for you and your mislead loved one. And if you're the golf fan in the relationship, then bless your heart.

+ Use as many Happy Gilmore references as possible. Multiple times. Why else would you watch that movie? This is the moment you've been training for.

+ Replace words in rap songs with golf references. Example: BIRDIE BIRDIE BIRDIE BIRDIE ROCKIN' EVERYWHERE! He'll be so proud of your ability to entertain yourself as you fall off the couch from laughing.

+ Whenever he's cheering for someone (and by cheering I mean golf clapping slightly louder), refer to the above step. Screaming "GET IT RIGHT GET IT TIGHT" at the TV guarantees the golfer will make the shot (sidebar: I just tried to spell golfer as "gaulfer." Help). It has a 1 time success rate of 100%.

+ Golf puns. BOY, THOSE PASTEL PLAID PANTS ARE ON PAR, AMIRITE? Alliteration is fun, too. If you can have a sense of humor about golf, you can have a sense of humor about anything.

+ You know those cheesy clips at the end of commercial breaks where the camera has a close up of the flowers on the golf course, and the Morgan Freeman-esque announcer is going into deep detail on the beauty of the day and the talent of the golfers? It's the perfect backdrop for an interpretive dance. Trust me.

+ Consistently ask "wait, who's that again?" every time a name is mentioned. Not only is it NOT super annoying, but it shows you want to learn. But mostly you'll have to ask multiple times because it's hard to pay attention the first 9 times because GOLF. If you're with a golf fan, chances are they know the life story and favorite color of every player...wait no, golfer. He or she will be forced (who are we kidding, they love to show off their golf wisdomz) to answer the questions, which means you'll eventually learn something you can use to impress someone someday, and it will keep everyone from falling asleep. That is, if the talking about golf doesn't put you to sleep first. AND CONGRATULATIONS! You just won spouse/friend/child of the year for trying to show an interest.

When all else fails, go upstairs, play your favorite music, and paint your nails. Or accidentally your entire toe, if you have my nail painting skills.


it can happen to you too, never give up, and other inspirational quotes

You've heard me wax on and off on about my hatred of grocery shopping. I truly hate it. It's the worst hour of my week, and lately it has gotten progressively worse. Kroger was rearranged a few weeks ago and it has turned my entire life upside down. No longer can I grab bread here and beans there and be out in a jiffy. I have to hunt for the bread that was nonsensically placed next to the canned fruit. And for the black beans that are now by the paper towels. Obviously. Grocery shopping has gone from merely an annoying chore to a true test of character. Now I'm not just trying to get out earshot of screaming children, I'm trying to do it while scavenging for diced tomatoes. Plus, Kroger has been out of limes so often lately that I'm starting to take it personally.

I've been at the end of my rope with grocery shopping. As soon as I got home, I needed at least an hour to lay in bed to cry and process the trauma. I felt as if I could no longer go on. That I'd rather go hungry instead of going to Kroger. What's the point? Why am I putting myself through this misery? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?

But you know those sayings, like the ones where it's darkest before the dawn? That it has to get worse before it gets better? IT'S TRUE, YOU GUYS. It's true.

like, totes mcgoats

I got myself together and went to Kroger yesterday. I pregamed with an iced coffee and a trip to the library to put me in the best frame of mind possible. I sat in the car for ten minutes scouring social media apps and listening to music trying to will myself out of the car. I gave myself a pep talk as I walked up to the carts, terrified they would be super glued together like usual.

But things were different this time, guys. Things were different.

I pulled apart the carts with ease. Raspberries and strawberries were on sale. They weren't sold out of avocados.

And then something else started to happen. Men were winking at me. Kids were giggling and smiling at me when they walked by. Random strangers were saying hi. When did I get famous? I thought to myself. They must've heard about that funny joke I told at work last week. And then a guy in the cracker aisle turned to me with a huge grin and said "YOUR SHIRT IS AMAZING!" Ahh, my shirt! Ok, James' Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt that I stole out of his closet. I should've known. The key to a man's heart is through a nerd shirt. I was asked on many a date in college just by wearing my Spamalot shirt. Studies (my own) have shown that a nerd shirt is 89% more effective at picking up men than the bend and snap. I should've known the ninja turtles would be no different.

Whatever the reason for my sudden fame, I had became the queen of my neighborhood Kroger, and I loved it. I strutted through the aisles, saying hello and giving polite waves to smiling strangers and giddy children and rolling in the compliments on my stolen shirt. My beloved Quaker popped chips were overflowing on the shelves with new flavors. My favorite ice cream (Talenti gelato, glory hallelujah) was half price, which has never happened. And then when I went to check out, the cashier said "It looks like you get the blackberry discount today! We overcharged you last week, so you get a $6 credit today." Just enough to pay for the sunday blues frozen pizza I had felt guilty about putting in the cart.

And I left, feeling happier than I have in a long time. Well, happier than I've been in a grocery store. It was the best shopping trip I've had in a long time. Probably ever. It may have been the power of the shirt, or it may have been the spring after the long winter (of grocery shopping), the dawn after the darkness, the land flowing with milk and honey (literally) after 40 years in the desert, the may flowers after the april showers, etcetera etcetera.

We may never know what happened that Sunday afternoon in a little Columbus grocery store, but i can tell you one thing: It gets better, you guys. It gets better.