little sarah Big World

Tag: rainy days

Homesteady

~OR~

City Mice and the Country Mouse

Last Sunday we took a field trip up to Garland, Utah–Bonnie Friend’s hometown.

She grew up on a farm, with horses, sheep, farm cats and apple trees.

We dreamed of petting barnyard animals.

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Mellow

I’m really into yellow lately–yellow nap blankets, yellow squash from the garden, new yellow pillows from Lindsey.

It just seems a more Fall way to be, yellow. The whole turquoise and bright red thing is too young and optimistic. It’s too summery.

Now turquoise and YELLOW, well…that is some adult shit right there. That is reading Nora Ephron in my own apartment with an afghan draped over my business casual wear.

Anyways.

I am on a plane right now as you read this, headed west. One last dose of sunshine while it is raining and September-perfect in Salt Lake, and then home again. New and improved.

Rain Magic

~OR~

Why I Never Use Flash

…and…

I do not own a very fancy camera. (Yet). And I almost never use flash, because it changes the photo entirely, and I don’t like the result.

Except for this time. This time I like the result just fine.

But I am Tough as Nails

So it’s not all weakness. It’s not all crying alone in the shower, or eating leftovers while watching America’s Next Top Model.

Because sometimes I am strong. Sometimes I far surpass my own perceived limitations. Sometimes I kick ass, Friends. SOMETIMES I RUN A HALF-MARATHON.

I still almost can’t believe it. I’d always thought of such a distance as a race for real runners. For people who’d been running for years. People who trained constantly. To me, 13.2 miles was SERIOUS BUSINESS. Not for amateurs, and certainly not for wimps. But then…I did it. I trained, and I went to Moab, UT, and I ran not just any ol’ 1/2 marathon, but the Moab Trail 1/2 Marathon, which was all hills and rain and mud and slickrock, plus hiking and sliding down boulders and jumping over puddles and wiping my runny nose on my sleeves. Oh, and then about a quarter mile at the end of wading through a freezing cold, knee-deep (for me–and I’m 5′ 8”!) creek. Then scrambling through the mud.

3 hours, 17 minutes, and 53 seconds later, I was done. Not an amazing time, no (I placed 217 out of 258 runners), but that’s not what matters. Not to me, at least. What matters to me is that I did it. That thing I’d thought was so big and so difficult, for so long, is now in my rearview mirror. And just imagine my next half-marathon, without a bunch of crazy topos.

So, yeah, sometimes I surprise even myself. And then I eat a ham and cheese sandwich. With chips. Then I take a nap. And have a sleepover with my little sister, in the desert. This is my life, in Utah.

My Life in Pictures

Not too long ago, on a rainy night, I found a camera lying on the sidewalk, just outside the bar where Fauna was about to play. I didn’t want anyone to come along and steal the wayward little guy, so I pocketed it. Which I guess means I stole it.

Wanting very much to return it to its rightful owner and not be a thieving thief, I began looking through the pictures saved to the memory card. Which I guess means I’m nosy. BUT guess what, Friends? I recognized a certain dashing young gentleman from the pictures as my friend and former co-worker Patrick! What? YES. I texted him to confirm. Yup, Patrick’s camera, that I saved (not stole) from the rain-slick sidewalk.

And Patrick, being the creative gent that he is, suggested that I take some pictures my own self before giving it back to him. Done. Another person’s life, in 10 pictures or less.

This makes me want to do a project. This makes me want to mail disposable cameras to people who will use them up and mail them back. Then I’ll develop them and see the world through someone else’s eyes. I’m sure the whole thing could be done digitally, but that’s much less romantic, isn’t it?

So. Email me your mailing address at littlesarahbigworld [at] hotmail [dot] com. Let’s do this, Friends. Let’s get real.

That’s What Friends Are For

Tomorrow morning Kevin and I hit the road for Colorado. Camping, friends! Actually, we’ll be staying in a cabin. But still, there will be fishing. And shooting rifles (a first for me), and floating down a river on inner tubes. We’ll be back by Sunday. Expect lots of pictures.

And in the meantime, expect more guest blogs! It’s lovely to have friends who travel and write eloquently and enjoy sharing. Sharing means caring, after all.

Example: these flowers at the bus stop this morning were particularly lovely in the rain.

I just couldn’t keep it to myself.

Hello, World!

Figured out how to post from Not-My-Own-Computer. Drinking coffee (though I ought not…), getting excited for France, not even minding the rain so much. Making new friends lately, and life is not bad. Life is life.

Sundays in Provo, part 2

After a weekend of hanging out with Kevin’s brother, drinking beer and eating barbecue at Beth’s Sobriety Party, walking dogs, indoor french picnics, running errands, cleaning house, home-cooked meals and Game of Thrones with plenty of whisky and wine, we drive Pete back to BYU.

And stop at In-n-Out Burger.

Unusual Weather Patterns

April showers bring May flowers,

But here we are, in May, still rainy and gray.

(Except today!)

Today was rainy and green, with little hints of sunshine peeking through. I can assure you this is a-typical weather for Utah.

(Also: have you noticed how good I’ve been about posting to one or the other of my blogs nearly every day? I have.)

Today is Just a Day Like Any Other

Tonight I was going to work on this thing, finish posting all the stuff I’ve been saving up (some since January), etc., etc…

Instead, I talked to my Whitney friend in San Francisco

walked home on shiny wet streets

bought groceries

ate pizza for dinner while watching old episodes of America’s Next Top Model on YouTube

had one coctail

and played Dr. Mario online until I lost (Level 20!)

And I’m fine with that. I’m okay with less than perfection. Springtime is here to stay (though quite rainy), I have my own place, I heard the most exquisite music tonight (Borodin and Bartok), and I am okay with less than perfection. Here’s a picture: