It's been a while.

Here's what has happened lately.

Harry graduated and took the California bar.

Both sets of parents came out for the ceremony

Hail the conquering graduate (name that movie)!

It was about 95 degrees that day and I felt so bad for him in his suit and velvet robes. 

So happy and so so so sweaty!

Then, we moved away from Palo Alto. It was very hard/depressing/difficult.

I keep the melancholy feelings at bay by trying not to think about it. To this day.

We drove away from our little apartment after my buff, awesome, not-so-little brother and some of our amazing (and I mean uh-MAZ-ing) friends helped us pack, move, play tetris with our boxes so that they all fit in the three cars, and, despite our protests, SCRUBBED OUR APARTMENT CLEAN. If service like that doesn't guarantee exaltation I don't know what does.

Final Palo Alto run with Cameron

Friends worthy of gold medals for helping us out (husbands not pictured)!

Harry, Cameron and I drove to Irvine, caravan-style. I kept reciting mantras aloud as I drove to keep from melting down- things like, "It's okay!" / "This is just another adventure!" / "Don't be sad it's over, be glad it happened!" We had fun hanging with my folks for about 15 hours, and the next day we moved our myriad boxes of stuff to Vegas.

I am loving being here. We are working part time, cooking a lot, and best of all, chilling with people we really, really, really, really like chilling with.

Then shortly after our move, my SIL Sarah got married. It was glorious. Travis is the bee's knees and we couldn't be happier that he's in our family. I cried during the ceremony, we ate tacos at the reception, we danced all night, I drank an obscene amount of fresh watermelon juice.

Then four days later, my brother got married. It was glorious. Katelyn is the cat's pajamas and we couldn't be happier that she's in our family. I cried during the ceremony, we ate tacos at the reception, we danced all night, I ate lots of See's chocolates.

Below is a post that I wrote back in June about my 26th birthday, but I never posted it. It makes me laugh to read it now, over three months later, but here it is anyway.

I enjoyed turning 26 so much this year that I wish I could do it over again.

My actual birthday landed in the middle of Harry's finals week, and was the day before a gigantic quarterly meeting at work, so Harry assured me the celebrating would take place over the weekend, and offered almost no additional details. He’s nice and cryptic like that.

My birthday fell on a Thursday this year, and that day Harry hopped over to work in the early afternoon, and we split a hot chocolate and a Hot Lips raspberry soda at Coupa Café near my office. We ate In-N-Out for dinner, because birthday girls do not cook.

Friday was insane, but in a good way. For the first time, I was going to have the bulk of the responsibility for the quarterly meeting since the other more experienced assistant who usually handles everything was taking the day off. I got to work at 7:30 am, and thankfully the meeting went off without any (major) hitches. I was on my feet nearly all day, and as a result, the day whizzed by in a flash. I was so grateful that it went well, and at 4:00 pm, I headed home, thoroughly thrashed and exhausted.

I got home, and tried to decompress from work. Sometimes it’s difficult on a Friday afternoon to leave the stress at the office. I often come home feeling really anxious and jittery on Fridays, and it’s a very hard feeling to shake.

Harry had told me he wanted to take me out to dinner in San Francisco. As I sat very still on the couch, trying to capture a zen “weekend” feeling, Harry said, “Is all this driving going to be too much for you right now?” I said, “No, I don’t think so.” He then said, “Well, maybe we should just stay in San Francisco tonight then.”

Then there was a pause.

Then there was a, “What?!” from me.

Minutes later, we packed our bags and hit the road for San Francisco.

Harry had made hotel reservations at this really neat hotel literally right on the border of Chinatown. The two girls at the front desk handed me two cupcakes and a small box of chocolates and wished me a happy birthday. We threw our bags in our room and headed out for birthday destination #1: Caffé BaoNecci. Since we were staying so close to everything we wanted to do, we didn’t use the car once from the time we got to the city until we left Sunday morning. The restaurant was a short walk away, through the heart of China town.

Caffé BaoNecci is run by an Italian family, and all the waiters have the same hipster haircut, and the light, thin crust pizza with minimal fuss and the most fresh tomato sauce I've ever tasted plus this dreamy imported Italian ginger ale was exactly what I wanted.

Walking back through Chinatown

For dessert, we came back to the hotel and munched some chocolates and watched “Tron” on TV. Man, is cable awesome or what?!

The next morning, we scrambled to make it out the door so we could eat at Dottie’s True Blue Café. We ate there a few years ago. It’s worth the 1.5 hour long line every time.

Finally made it to the front of the line!

My Dottie's Date

Bakery menu

Harry got the cornmeal blueberry pancakes, and I got pumpkin chocolate chip pecan French toast, because with a name like that, how can you not?

The places we walked to for the rest of the day included:

1) Blick’s Art Supply. Last Christmas my secret santa at work had given me a gift card for it, so we meandered around and bought some graphite and charcoal pencils and sketch pads.

2) We saw two opera singers in a random alleyway and stopped to listen.

3) The mall on Market street, where we wandered around and almost got roped into buying sea salt body scrub by an enthusiastic salesman, who, everytime his pitches were rebuffed by Harry, would said, "Stop it, business man!" with a wry smile and in an almost coquettish way.

4) Britex fabric store. I wanted to buy some material for a skirt at Britex. The problem is, after spending time in the LA Fabric District, everything else is always so overpriced that I couldn’t bring myself to spend any money there. Ah well.

5) The Ferry Building and farmer’s market. We split a meyer lemon donut, bought some chocolate and drinks, and walked around by the ocean.

Ferry Building

Ocean view

6) A crème brulee cart (yes, this is real).

7) 7-Eleven for some water because we were dying.

8) For dinner, we went to The House. It was a really great Asian fusion restaurant. Normally when the words “Asian” and “fusion” are used together to describe a restaurant, I’m not a big fan, but this place will forever be the exception.

9) And of course, we had to hit up Double Rainbow ice cream on the way home.

I think I’ve hit my processed sugar limit for the next year.

Now Harry is studying for the Bar. What! Is! Happening!

The next 6 months are going to be totally topsy turvy, in the best way. Big changes make me nervous, and moving away from our friends here will be so difficult that I’m not even letting myself think about it. Instead, I think about how I’m so pumped to live closer to family and to see Harry’s years of hard work start to pay off. He’s the most wonderful, kind, patient man and the best person to have a birthday weekend with.

Here's to turning 26 again next year!

That's all for now.  Coming soon: Sarison hits the Mediterranean!  We just have to go there first.

Good night.

Birthday Remix and Other Scattered Recountings

Harry's birthday recap: I took him to Flea Street Cafe in Menlo Park where we had a delicious dinner. It's the most unassuming restaurant from the outside, but man! My second course had locally grown golden and dark red beets sliced paper thin with layers of goat cheese in between them in four little towers. It was better than any dessert I've ever had. I was-- (speechless).

Then we came home and Harry opened gifts. One of these gifts was a flier I created and emailed him, letting him know that we are going to take a flying trapeze class. Yes, this is real. Video footage of his reaction is below (please disregard the messy desk in the background-- it was finals week, and not a good week for "clean up your stuff on the desk!" demands):

 

 The sad part is that, because I've been saddled with a fever and cough to rival that of most chain smokers, we'll have to reschedule the Trapeze lesson. #epicbirthdayfail. Good thing I married a good sport.

On an unrelated note, I've gotten into a funny habit lately. I've actually been thinking about what life will be like when we no longer live in this apartment. Will we have a bathroom counter? A toilet with a tank? A dishwasher? A washer and drier? Enough counter space to accommodate a microwave (so that it doesn't have to sit on our dinner table)? Air conditioning? A (brace yourself) sofa that is three cushions long instead of two?

I think these things, and then my knee jerk reaction is: "Psh, no." I have this strange sense of acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that I just know that I will always live in 500 square feet, in this building, on the seventh floor, devoid of most modern day appliances. And, as Celine Dion warbled in the late 90's, "that's the way it is." Just like how Christian Bale will always be a Newsie to me, no matter how many Batman movies he makes. To this day, I look at him, and all I see is:

In other news, my cousin Becca and her main loving man Art have really done it. They have moved to Spain for the next year (ish) so Art can attend graduate school. This will make video chatting considerably more difficult since she is now perpetually eight hours ahead of me. The laws of Cousin-dom demand that I will probably have to go visit her at some point while they live there. And the laws of Cousin-dom are unflinchingly rigid.

What's funny about this is that Becca has lived in Spain before. In college, I went to London one winter, and the next winter, she went to Spain. And while she was in Spain, I went on my very first dates with Harry (about six months before we ever became an item). I emailed her about these dates with creepy and obsessive levels of detail. In fact, here is a choice tidbit. Written by me, to Becca, on February 20th, 2007 (necessary context: Harry had taken me to a little concert put on by some friends, and then we watched a movie back at his apartment with a few roommates. I also hadn't eaten dinner. Because I wasn't sure if we were going to be eating dinner together.):

 around 11 pm i started feeling hungry, and when i feel hungry my stomach is amazingly noisy and there's nothing i can do to stop it. so i prayed hard- we're talking feverish continuous prayers- that it would either be quiet or i'd find a way to eat something so that it would stay quiet. thank goodness his cousin joe offered me a reese's peanut butter cup and i ate it and seriously becca, the rest of the time i felt like my stomach was about to start growling but it NEVER DID!! i was so suprised and so so so grateful. the Church is true. 

 And while I'm making nonsensical segues, look at what is next on my list of things to sew!

All you need are two yards of knit fabric and some elastic thread (unless you own a serger, in which case, forget the elastic thread, and in which case, that is awesome). I plan to make one in every color and wear nothing else this summer.

And with that, I leave you. If you were sitting here next to me, you'd hear my rumbling and hacking cough and see my vacant, glazed eyes and say what my sister E said to me last night when I saw her via FaceTime: "Sarah, you look soooo sick." It's so true, I couldn't even summon the emotional energy to be miffed.

Off to slide some more Tylenol down the old gullet,
S.A.R.

Twenty Seven

Today will consist of early morning fresh donuts, a shnazzy birthday dinner at [restaurant name will be hidden to preserve the suspense of any birthday boys who I'm married to who may be reading this before 6:45 pm tonight], and a few gifts, but it doesn't begin to show the love I have for him.

He humored me by smiling for the camera even though he was in the middle of a good book.

Happy birthday to the best thing that ever happened to me.

The best thing that never happened to me

Carmageddon.

It's been all over the news for a little while, and it took place this past weekend. The city was closing the 405 for construction for two days, which was going to make traffic in LA into something like a natural disaster mixed with the apocalypse, and every resident of LA was encouraged by city officials to stay off the roads at all costs.

Harry and I took this very seriously.



For weeks ahead of time, we planned everything around Carmageddon. We planned to hole up in our apartment with our favorite foods and movies, and limit ourselves to walking to the 3rd Street Promenade and the beach, and that would be it. Which I was totally fine with. We've been traveling almost every weekend so some down time at the apartment sounded really nice.

Saturday morning we walked down to the 3rd Street Promenade to a breakfast place we found that we really love called Monsieur Marcel.



Harry was certain we were sitting next to a movie star whose name he couldn't quite remember. We split french toast and crepes, and then meandered down to the Santa Monica Farmer's Market to get some berries Harry kept hearing about at work. I kid you not-- the farmstand that sells them is called Harry's Berries. They grow these fantastic strawberries right by the ocean so they are exploding with tart juiciness. We bought a basket, and would have bought more, but were limited on the cash.



We also managed to find Harry some running shoes at the Puma store at 40% off! I was thrilled about these shoes because NOW I can finally coerce him into going running with me! Win win!

We walked home, and I was all prepared to break out a bathing suit and the boogie boards we stole from my in-laws and hit the beach, when we got a text from Dan and Aja, who live in Hollywood, and who we were sure were at least 2 hours away by car in the supposed "traffic jam of all time."

They wanted to go see Harry Potter, a movie that I've been looking forward to since I finished the final book in the series back in 2008. Not only that, but they wanted to DRESS UP-- not optional. Wands and capes mandatory. I knew it the moment Harry read the text to me… Carmageddon or not, this sounded way to awesome to pass up.

We got onto google maps to survey the traffic damage. Only, according to google, every freeway was completely and blissfully traffic-free! My best guess is that the majority of LA people really had the fear in them and were honestly staying off the roads. We felt like this was a dirty trick and that as soon as we started off for Hollywood, we'd get caught in a jam that would keep us on the road for hours. You can imagine our glee when we got to their house in RECORD TIME-- 20 minutes. We'd never made it that quickly before.

We dressed up as best we could and snapped a picture for posterity. No, Dan didn't dye his hair just for this movie so he could look identical to Draco Malfoy. But he did get that question about 45 times throughout the evening, especially from a girl who asked if he would take a picture with her.



We went to the movie. One thing I realized that I love about LA is you dress up like a Hogwarts student and people not only love it, they completely EMBRACE you for it. I was walking around Universal City Walk in Harry's white button up shirt, gold and red tie, gray skirt, and an enormous hooded black cloak, frizzy hair a-flying, holding a twelve inch stick in my right hand, and the reactions I got were, "AWESOME!" and a plentiful amount of high fives and pats on the back.

Harry was wearing my graduation robe from two years ago over a shirt and tie in the Ravenclaw colors. I have had that graduation robe in the trunk of my car since graduation day in 2009. It has moved with me from Provo to Irvine to Palo Alto to Vegas to Palo Alto to LA, and has NEVER left my trunk. Somewhere deep inside I knew I couldn't get rid of that billowing sheath of navy blue polyester, and I'm proud to say today that my tendency to be a pack rat paid off in spades.

The movie did not disappoint. In the last few years, I have started crying in movies at the drop of a hat. I have no explanation for this. I've cried in like five episodes of "Friday Night Lights" (it's all your fault, Tim Riggins) and I cried three times during Harry Potter.

The next day was Dan's birthday celebration. We made our infamous Apple Pie (Mac and Julie once won a bake-off with this recipe. It's fool proof and amazing every time).

It's just not right to bake on Sunday without something British playing in the background. Which is why you can see "Downton Abbey" on my laptop. Being in an apartment that doesn't have a lot of baking equipment can be an interesting experience. I used a pot as a mixing bowl, a bottle of wine (a gift from the apartment owner) as a rolling pin, and a potato masher for a pastry cutter. Harry helped me by peeling apples.





We then fearlessly hopped on the freeway, arriving lickity split to Dan and Aja's apartment. Aja made the most amazing pizza for everyone and we had such a great time hanging out with friends and family. We feel really lucky to be surrounded by such great people out here.

On the way home, Harry and I decided Carmageddon should really happen more often. We've never experienced such convenient traffic conditions in our entire lives.

How about it, Los Angeles? Doesn't the I-5 need some repaving?

Harry in his birthday suit

First of all, shame on you for reading this far past the title. You clearly think you're going to see pictures of my husband in the buff. Sicko.

He did, in fact, get a suit for his birthday. And I love him in it. I feel like he's Cary Grant from "North by Northwest" in this suit. I can just see him hanging on for dear life off of Mount Rushmore while well-to-do gangsters shoot at him because he's uncovered their evil plots.



The pose/picture above screams "70's" to me. We plan to edit it accordingly.







It's so versatile! It even allows him to do battle with our perpetually-breaking screen door.

I love me a good birthday suit.

Twenty-six is:

• The number of miles in a marathon rounded down (26 miles and 385 yards)
• The number of episodes in a television program each year
• The age at which males can no longer be drafted in the United States
• The number of red cards and black cards in a normal deck
• The number of Cantons of Switzerland
• The largest number of Oscars awarded to one person (Walt Disney)
• The number of bones in the normal human foot and ankle

But even more tantalizing is the fact that today, friends, my man is 26 years old!






In honor of this momentous occasion in history, I'm assigning every of the 26 alphabet letters a very Harry quality.

A- Always is very manly
B- Blue eyed babe
C- Chef, specializing in all things tasty
D- Dances like Michael Jackson
E- Effortlessly manly
F- Foxy (read: fox-ay)
G- Genuine
H- Humble
I- Incredibly manly
J- Jazzy sense of style (J was hard for me, don't judge- hey! Judge! J!)
K- Keen wit
L- Loves reading for hours on end
M- Manly
N- Next in line to the British throne if something like a billion people in line before him were to abdicate
O- Often is manly
P- Pole-vaulter AND piano master (douple Ps! What what!)
Q- Quick learner- he even sews better than I do
R- Rock climber
S- Singer/songwriter
T- Totally manly
U- Understands women alarmingly well
V- Very manly
W- Wood-working carpentry expert
X- XXVI is 26 in Roman numerals, and he is 26.
Y- Yoga master
Z- Zebra-like sense of survival

Happy birthday to my favorite Harry. In the words of Bob Schneider, "I used up all my good luck the day I ran into you."

Happy birthday Mom!

You are the summation of all things lovely and we love you so much!



(Don't forget, calories don't count on your birthday. I think there are about 8 pieces of vanilla nut fudge at See's with your name on them!)

Don't you test these besties.

(I can't seem to stop quoting the Harvard Sailing Team Boys Will Be Girls video. I'll post it at the bottom. You should just see it. Really. Chalk it up to cultural literacy.)

In the past few weeks our lives have been the best kind of topsy turvy, and it all began (and this post will end with) a visit from my cousin/sister-from-another-mother, with whom I lived in college for two years and with whom I also shared pounds and pounds of bridge mix during my BYU days, who was a bridesmaid in my wedding and is one of the best people I've ever known. She came out to PA to see me and to celebrate her golden birthday. Needless to say, I was counting down the days until her arrival for months in advance.



Here we are in our undergrad days. Head lamps and night bike rides. Typical.

Just after Harry and I had picked her up from the airport, our incessant chattering/holler-style laughing began, and Harry gave me a knowing look that said, "Oh yeah. Now I remember what it was like when you two lived together."

We spent the weekend galavanting, eating, laughing, talking, planning, nostalgia-inducing, and in the words of Sense and Sensibility's Mrs. Jennings, "tasting the delights of the season!"

This included:

-Stanford Shopping Center (and all it's diversions!)
-Menlo Park Goodwill Boutique (Anthropologie belt for a fifth of the price? Don't mind if I do!)
-See's chocolates (at 10:30 am, no less)
-Sprinkles cupcakes (key lime zest IN THE FROSTING)
-Cheese House (roast beef + egg bread + house spread)
-Three episodes of "Lost" (Desmond, we love you)
-Swimming at a delicious swimming pool with fantastic friends (laughed so hard I started coughing uncontrollably)
-Darbar Indian cuisine with cousins/friends/lovers (I loved me some Saag)
-More cupcakes (this time with lit candles)
-Endless youtube videos ("Poor him some malk, Josh!")
-Going on a 5 mile run that happened to have a halfway point at Grandma and Grandpa's old house (we stood outside and took pictures like stalkers)
-Getting 1/2 off at Pinkberry during happy hour (I've never been so excited to spend $2.25 on yogurt)
-Delicious dinner at cousin Kate's house with her delightful and adorable brood, of which I have no pictures (we both have closet fears that our children will never be as cute as our nieces and nephews. Thanks a lot, siblings/cousins).













Note: We also recently moved into a new apartment, though calling it "new" is actually the fattest lie I've ever told. There was an issue with our original academic year lease that could not be renewed. I'll spare you the frustrating details. Luckily we're learning to love it. I'm learning that washing dishes by hand is super fun, and that our prison style bathroom has this very Dungeons and Dragons-esque charm about it, and our mattress has a nice dip carved out in it just big enough for me! And best of all... this apartment is what I'm calling my "third world experience." Who needs the Peace Corps? I'm living it right now, friends.

Bad jokes aside, we had the best weekend. I'll spare you the speech about how much I love the people in my family/life, because once I start I find that I've written paragraphs and have to pare it all down to a few sentences (and why do something that resembles homework if you don't have to?). Suffice it to say, heaven itself wouldn't be complete without them. And I'm so happy I got to help my cousin ring in her 24th birthday on the 24th.

And now, without further ado... the video I cannot stop watching....