“Jack, please, I'm only an elected official here, I can't make decisions by myself!”

(Ten points to you if you can name that movie)

The time has come. It’s been 4 ½ months. I can't take it anymore.

I, Sarita Guadalupe Mariachi Cortez Eatón Reynaldo, need a haircut. And for the vida of me, I can’t decide what to do.

Exhibit A

I could do something like this- more layers, no bangs, lazy wavy style, lots of freedom (sans freaky smile).

Exhibit B

I could go back to the world of fringe (sans blonde).

Exhibit C

I could lose a heaping amount of length and give my neck some relief.

Exhibit D

Or I could just go the experimental route.

I have the appointment scheduled with a girl that all the women in my office swear by. The only thing I lack is inspiration.

Deep thoughts? Favorites? Warnings? Movie quotes? Embarrassing childhood stories about the school playground?

Bring it.

(wince)

So, there's a pot luck dinner tonight on our floor. All around the apartments are bustling with culinary activity, no doubt pots boiling, frying pans sizzling, hand mixers whipping, etc. Not ten minutes ago, our nicer than nice neighbor came over to ask, "Hey, can we borrow some vanilla extract?"

"Sure!" I say. "Come on in!"

I invite him into our lacking-in-spaciousness entryway and swoop around the counter to grab the imitation version of the stuff he wanted and hand it to him, giving him some disclaimer that it's "not the real thing, but works okay." He thanks me and promises to bring it right back, and makes a swift exit.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that I realized what I had left on the counter, front and center in his field of vision from the moment he set foot into our humble abode.

(awkward silence)

I'm not a proponent of karma.

But I'm pretty sure that this is some cosmic form of payback for NOT sending this book back to my GENEROUS gal pal who loaned it to me last year, and for naively claiming for the last 8 months that "if I keep it by the entryway, I'll remember to ship it back on my way to work."

I grabbed the book and hid it underneath a sofa cushion.

When that vanilla extract gets dropped off, hopefully our neighbor will think he just imagined that book-- that retina-burning awkwardness-inducing book that those Reynoldsies next door like to keep in their entryway.

Can you smell it?

Love is in the air.

Two days ago my sister and her main squeeze tied the proverbial knot. Want to see how glorious it was? If you don’t, now is your last chance to look away. But you wouldn’t look away because if you did I’d have to say, hey, you have a beef with happiness? Then go read another blog, yo.

It had been raining all kinds of canines and felines for days on end, but Saturday dawned without a descending droplet to be found.

Perks to being a bridesmaid: Maximum merrymaking, minimum responsibility.

This is the first wedding I’ve attended since my wedding day. And while that day is still the reigning best day of my life, this day was a touch more relaxing. Harry and I were amazed at how nice it was to eat food and occasionally sit down and be available to run errands and wrap caramels in black and white paper. We got to eat fish tacos and drink unlimited Fanta at Rubio’s and we swung by Rite Aid for some Chocolate Malted Krunch. It was, in a word, groovy.

That said, the best part of the day was seeing my sister as happy as I’ve ever seen her. And she’s already a rather plucky and giggly pixie doodle. Were it possible, I would have Elvis Costello’s “She” playing in the background while you peruse the pictures above to capture how fabulously glam and genuinely stunning the bride really was/is.

Another best part: getting to party and cut a rug with these babes.

And these babes.

(and other babes that aren't yet pictured-- I can only steal pictures from so many other people at a time!)

I am so grateful for my delicious family. We’re all hardwired to adore/admire/get a big kick out of each other without having to do much else than be within earshot of one another, which I think is a good thing to be hardwired to do.

And now. On a slightly more narcissistic note (well, this blog is 50% about ME, isn’t it?):

Six months ago today I got married to

and ever since I can’t help but feel like I got the better end of the deal.

I was already pretty pleased with life before I hitched my wagon to his. I'm still pleased, with a heaping helping of thrilled mixed in.

I’m not someone who adjusts very quickly to small life changes, let alone gargantuan ones. I battled with nostalgia for weeks when “The Wonder Years” ended. I cried for days in 4^th grade when my parents decided to get wood floors and adios the carpet. And I had a nuclear meltdown at age 6 when my parents had the tree in our front yard removed because the roots were destroying the pavement (“Mom! That tree was my LIFE!”).

Thus, it’s more than extremely fortunate for me that the man I spend all my free time with is someone I’ve felt completely at home with since we started this whole shenanigan in September 2007.

I love my Harry. And I think we’re in for more rip roaring good time for the next ∞.

Ah, Uh, Gllll, Ferrrr, Mmmmm,

Sorry to disappoint and inadvertently hoodwink, but…

There was a “not” before the “growing inside Sarah” part of that last post. I know than an ultrasound picture on a blog is usually the universal sign for “We’re creating a mini-us!” In this case, no.

Sorry for the joke/fib.

But thanks for the well wishes! I’ll cherish them again when there actually is a fetus occupying my innards. :)

Some Status Quos

Our apartment is currently lemony fresh because we:

We are jumping up and down because in one week we are getting on one of these
And going to one of THESE!!
Until then we are often found doing this
and watching what Harry got me hooked on
as well as what I'm pretty sure I got him hooked on (and yes, I am ashamed of myself)
I loved/teared up/couldn't put down/finally finished
And now want to, with reckless abandon, dive into
Harry just made one of these and it's making me drool like a Pavlovian pup
And last but not least, one of these is not growing inside of Sarah.

Next time I may post actual pictures of us.

"I don't know why you say good bye, I say hello."

Well, hello, 2010. My, for the dawning of the 3rd decade of my life, you certainly look nice! I have good inkling about you. Were I an octopus, I would say I have a good inking about you. It is only day 8, but I think you and I are going to get along famously.

For starters, you brought me into contact with

and it treated me all kinds of right. I drummed, I strummed, I hummed. In fact, I haven't yet stopped hearing "I don't know why you say good bye, I say hello" in my head since.

In fact, to keep the positive 2010 vibes flowing, I've created a tribute. An "homage," if you will.

I created this wee crossword on some obscure website. For some reason, it put "20 across" on there, for which there is no answer. You get bonus points if you can figure out a word that could go there and also fit into a Beatles song. I'd be tempted to mail you something, in fact. Only tempted though.

Click me!