A wise woman once told me that one of the topics that you’re not supposed to talk about is the weather. I can see why money, politics, religion, and even traffic are no no topics of chit chat at dinner parties, but weather? C’mon, weather is interesting. I love bringing up the weather when there’s a lull in the conversation or as small talk because it is THE cliche thing to do.
I’m from Texas, a place where winter basically doesn’t even exist, so I really appreciate this whole Indian Summer thing Mother Nature has blessed the Northeastern U.S. with. Thanks, giiiirl! Unfortately, I am acutely aware that Winter Is Coming.
Shit Snow happens, and it’s nice to be prepared.
This past weekend, Joel and I went to see Mutemath play in Detroit and I was only mildly ready for that whole lake effect cold wind bullshit. I wore a turtle neck and my amazing new buffalo plaid coat. Do you see how cute I look?! Probably not because the wind blew my hair in my face in most of these…
Here’s the thing about turtle necks… Yes, they partially remind me of Audrey Hepburn, but they also lead my thoughts down a dark path that I can’t really figure out… When I put on a turtle neck, I think of Shar Peis- you know those wrinkly ass dogs? and then I think of how on Sex And The City, Charlotte was dating a guy who was uncircumcised and she compared him to a Shar Pei and do people think I look like a walking penis?!
Be honest, do I look like a dick?
So anyway, the weather, am I right?!
I’ll be honest with you, it was “beginning to look a lot like Christmas” at about midnight on November 1st. I know that’s crazy early, but in my defense, I had nothing to do with the Christmas tree finding it’s merry little way into our living room because I was in a completely different part of the house, passed out in my Katy Perry costume. I am definitely pro early Christmas, though, because I feel like if you wait until after Thanksgiving it all goes by too quickly. I want holiday life to slowly marinate in ornaments and garland and stockings while being serenaded by Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You on repeat. I want that yuletide to be super gay.
Joel and I adopted a child last weekend. Well, we adopted a child sized Storm Trooper and named him Jermaine and we love him like a son. We won him at Joel’s company’s White Elephant party, because when a bunch of engineers buy anonymous gifts for each other, you know at least 1/3 will be Star Wars themed…
That blank gray wall in the picture above is bugging the living shit out of me. I know what I want to go there, but I haven’t made the time to print it out and frame it and hang it, jeez.
When I was a kid, my mom would make hella Christmas cookies from scratch to give out as gifts to family members, friends, neighbors, and teachers. She would bake bake bake all the live long day. Snickerdoodles, gender neutral gingerbread people, sugar cookies, and whatever the fuck else counts as a holiday cookie. You name it, she baked it. I remember always loving the idea of being my mom’s sous chef, but I would never stick around to help out, or I’d be too distracted by dancing to the Celine Dion Christmas album playing in the background.
I like to make cookies from scratch for my loved ones too. Here’s my top secret recipe that only has two ingredients:
- pre-made cookie dough from the grocery store, the cheapest kind they have.
- questionable morals because you’re going to have to lie to everyone you know…
Ahhhhh, cheers to Christmastime! (aka getting drunk and watching our favorite Christmas movie, Die Hard.)
When Beyoncé asked us all the rhetorical question of “who runs the world?” I think the answer she wanted was a little more specific than just “girls”. I’m pretty sure what Bey was trying to say was “girls…. named Sarah“. WE RUN THIS MOTHER.
I really can’t speak for any of the Allisons, Margarets, or Suzies of the world, because my name has only ever been Sarah, but I think that all of the Sarahs (and even Saras) out there feel a weirdly powerful solidarity with each other. It’s like Girl Power on methamphetamine. I mean, have you ever met a Sarah you didn’t just love?! Here are five of my favorite Sarahs:
- Sarah Wissinger -this Sarah, or Surzy as I like to call her, is in the pictures in this post with me. She is a DIY blogger with the prettiest resting bitch face I have ever seen. I’m so glad that once I found out she too lived in Pittsburgh I creepily asked her to hang out. She’s one of the only people who isn’t afraid to tell me to shut up, which scares me, but I like it at the same time.
- Sarah Lapp- Ohhhhh My God. This Sarah is my Internet twin. She is the CEO of Daisy Natives and she has the best snapchat stories I have ever seen!
- Sara Longsworth– She technically spells her name wrong, but I don’t care because she is freaking adorable. Sara’s Instagram is filled with amazing murals and cute cat pictures and it makes me feel all the feels.
- Sarah Rhodes– I want every single print in Sarah’s online print shop. This chick is talented AF.
- Sara Tramp– another Sarah sans H, but we’re making another exception because, well, it’s a Sarah thing to do.
The first Sarah and I plan on having many many “Sarah Style” blog posts in the future, unfortunately almost all of our pictures came out blurry this time around.
Whether your parents named you Sarah because their friends had stolen their number one name pick (Amanda?), or because you were concieved to the Hall and Oates song “Sarah Smiles”, or because they wanted something strong and biblical for their 3rd born (talkin’ to you, mom) know that you are loved by all Sarahs, but especially this Sarah.We are freaking princesses. XOXO.
It’s weird that there are people in the world who can begin their day without coffee. Coffee = life. I would cease to exist without coffee. Okay, I would still “exist”, but I’d be really cranky about existing.
I’ve been drinking the black nectar of the gods for a long time now. I started drinking coffee at the tender age of 10, which is why, at 5’7″, I don’t believe the rumors that caffeine stunts your growth. I do, however, believe the rumors that coffee can prevent cancer. As a 2-3 cup a day gal, I hope that’s true.
I think that how a person takes their coffee says a lot about them. For instance, I drink it black, whether it’s a cold brew, French Press, or regular old drip coffee. That says I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t have time to fuck around. Joel drinks half or full decaf with cream and sugar, which makes him my super chill counterpart. My cousin drinks her coffee with so much flavored creamer that I’m like “yo, you want some coffee with that milk?!” which just means she’s a girly girl. My dad doesn’t drink coffee at all, but prefers iced tea all year round… I don’t know what that means other than I’d think I was adopted if we didn’t look so much alike.
Coffee is just the freaking best… I have a coffee body scrub (from here) that makes my skin feel fantastic and silky and smooth. Coffee is also a natural remedy for cellulite. Coffee is nature’s laxative. Coffee smells really good (I personally hang out in the coffee aisle of the grocery store more than I care to admit). Coffee . Coffee. COFFFFEEEEEEE.
*Coffee and coffee accessories also make wonderful holiday gifts*
We are getting married in 5 months from today. That sounds so close, but so far away! Part of me wants the time to speed the eff up, while another part is like “woah, lady, cool your jets”.
So far, wedding planning has been pretty easy and stress free. I have my dress. Joel has his suit. We have our venue, which includes ceremony, reception, and catering. We have our reverend booked and are taking premarital counseling with her. We have our photographer and all of the ideas for decor have been narrowed down. I guess we just need our DJ. Now I’m kind of just sitting here twiddling my thumbs and waiting until our day gets closer so I can dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
As a special way to countdown to our wedding, Joel and I were planning on watching one episode of The Office everyday until May 14th, but have you ever tried to watch just one episode of The Office?! It’s impossible. We’re on season 6 and we started 2 weeks ago. Oh well…
I can’t wait to marry my best friend!
Be sure to follow #TheBlumers on instagram.
I might literally be the most sensitive person in the entire world. On a scale of 1-10, anytime I’m feeling an emotion at a 6 or higher, I’m crying…
Frustration? fists and teeth clenched while crying
Happiness? hardcore happy tears
Nervousness? shaky cries
Surprise? holding back tears, but they’re there…
Sadness? I have an ugly cry that rivals Clair Danes’ Homeland character
Fear? okay I actually don’t cry when I’m afraid… JK… you just can’t see me because I’m probably hiding from the scary thing.
I’m not sure what part of my genetic makeup causes me to leak from the face. Am I broken? I can’t watch a Zillow commercial without having a breakdown. But I am what I am, and sometimes, I err on the emotional side. It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally becoming okay with this part of myself and learning to live with it. Here are some reasons I’ve cried lately:
- I started following @melanieraccoon on Instagram and she’s so cute I can’t help but get teary eyed every time I see her. When she dresses up as a person, I lose my shit.
- It was my birthday.
- I saw a plastic bag floating through the air and I cried because, a. it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and b. pollution sucks.
- I get happy when I think about getting married in 5 months that I cry because it’s so close.
- I get sad when I think about getting married in 5 months and I cry because it seems like it’s such a long way away.
- Sometimes when I’m driving I start crying if a sad song comes on my playlist and then I cry even harder because I can’t see the road.
I am woman, hear me
Today is my twenty-sixth birthday. I don’t understand how people ever complain about getting older. Did you, like, peak in high school? I freaking love getting older. I welcome each new year with open arms. It’s part of my lifelong plan to age “gracefully”. Gotta be grateful for each full year of life that you get, man.
26 is nothing to write home about or anything, I mean, I didn’t get another pair of Louboutins like I did for my 25th, but it’s still a great age. I plan on making a big deal out of all of my birthdays not just the “important” ones. Also, 26 is the age I will tell people I was when I got married! BirthDAY < Wedding YEAR.
I feel like I am becoming the woman I am supposed to be. I have found a hair color that works for me, I’ve accepted that being pale and ghostly is probably better than skin cancer, I know how to highlight and contour like a boss ass bitch, I am continuously told how much I remind people of Jennifer Lawrence, and my style is, in my humble opinion, at an all time high. All of that physical stuff aside, my relationships with my friends, family, and fiancé are stronger than ever and continue to bloom and grow. I have a confidence that borders on narcissism, but I don’t even care because if loving myself is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Dress/Target, Jeans/Obey, Beautiful Face c/o makeup & a good night’s sleep
Cheers to another wonderful year filled with life, love, and keeping up with this blog. xoxo.