little sarah Big World

Tag: photos

A Year in Photos

Anti-Divorce Mural

So maybe I was wrong in that last post, as Chad said that I’m becoming a professional at making these murals.

Go figure.

Go us.

By Foot

Despite my best efforts, despite myself, I keep going to bed too late on work nights. Last night it was talking with Nicole on her “luscious back porch,” which meant I didn’t get to bed by 10:30 as planned, but rather 1:30. With a wake-up call of 5:30.

Don’t worry, though, I just slept right through that, waking up 7 minutes after I was supposed to already be at work. Which meant: pants on, glasses on, shoes on, frozen quinoa muffin in the purse and RUN. Literally–1.2 miles at 6:30 am.

Life is strange and unexpected, Friends.

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A Writer, in South America

This blog used to be an outlet for my writing, with maybe a few occasional photos thrown in. As examples, or proof, or to illustrate my words. Photos were the compliment to the writing.

Now photos dominate, and sometimes it feels like this space is a relentless, oppressive, compulsive documentation of my every waking hour.

Don’t get me wrong, Friends–I love capturing the small, gentle, simple moments of every day life. I like being able to communicate visually.

But maybe this isn’t the outlet for that?

We’ll see. In the meantime, some long-overdue words. A feast of words, Friends.

(from my travel journal in South America, mostly unedited, but with parts left out)

Friday, May 4th, 2012 – Day 1
(airplane: SLC – Houston)

I have to say, I’m excited to be traveling again. I think I must be one of those rare birds, because I actually ENJOY traveling–cramped quarters, strange people, random and bad snacks and meals…I love the little routines I’ve developed, after years of traveling solo. Never getting to the airport too early, always bringing socks, buying trashy magazines that I read cover to cover…I always board with my left foot first and disembark with my right, saying “Left for Lenore” and “Start off on the right foot.” (Lenore is my father’s mother who died when I was about 5). I like to think that grandma will watch over me and protect me.

I guess flying by myself to visit Cousin Em when I was 12, 13, 14 years old I always felt so grown-up, so mature and independent, and I’ve never lost that feeling.

There is no time I feel more littlesarahBigWorld than when I travel alone. I like that feeling.

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