Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

My brother Jeff and his girlfriend announced their engagement over the weekend. I have a lot of brothers so to avoid confusion:

Matt: 30, married to Holli and father of Carter and Hannah.
Jeff: 26, soon-to-be married to Chrissy and while he got the looks in the family, his hair line is receding.
Ben: 23, married to his banjo and has gross facial hair.
Chady-bear: 19, baby of the family with a Japanese future.
Me: 31 going on 21, princess of the family (obviously!).

All caught up? Good. Moving on, Chrissy asked me via text message to be her bridesmaid. The truth is I’d do practically anything for a pretty dress and shoes!

But it got me thinking, is text messaging really an acceptable form of communication? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of text messaging since I hate talking on the phone. However, for certain items of conversation I think a phone call is better. Is it me? Am I turning into an old woman, and if so do I have to get cats?

Congratulations guys! I’m going to be a step-aunt to a hula dancer! And you can’t beat that.

sorry guys, i had no idea my mood affected storm patterns. i must be magic! it took me nearly an hour just to get to the freeway this morning. here’s the intersection i was stuck at:which only ben will find ironic. last spring he asked me every single day to go to the banjo store with him. i refused every single day. the kid is already weird, buying a banjo was not going to help his image. of course, he’s a brat and didn’t listen–as you can see here.

Ben and I drove to the country today to have lunch with my parents and grandparents. My baby brother Chady-Bear received his mission call this week, so the lunch conversation turned into a God-fest rather quickly. Usually I eat really fast and escape from the table before this happens. Today I wasn’t so lucky.

My mother was telling a missionary story, which like a horrrible daugher I wasn’t paying attention to until she said “the spirit touched her.” Without thinking I immediately responded saying, “isn’t that illegal?” I thought for sure everyone would freak out since my grandparents were there. Before my mother could give me the look of death my grandmother burst out laughing. I really do have the best, most understanding family ever.

I want a life coach. Scratch that. I need a life coach! I cannot be trusted to make my own decisions anymore, especially when it comes to men in my life. The good ones I manage to walk away from. The ones who are bad for me I keep around. Not anymore. I’m giving that up for Lent. Because now I totally get Lent. Wikipedia knows everything–way more than that stupid Dex guy in the phonebook commercials.

I can pick out an excellent pair of shoes (i.e. my new camouflage ballet flats), but I can’t pick a man to save my life. Not that I’m comparing men to shoes. Shoes, for me, last longer. I still have (and wear) my first pair of Cons. Yes, I own the same shoes I did in high school. I’m cool like that.

I’m serious about this life coach thing. Therapists are so last year…

I don’t need a reason to heart SLCup, but if I did it would be the pug off sticker she gave me today at lunch. She gave little puggie an eye-patch. Now that’s friendship!