A guest post from a bad ass friend I had when I lived in the small town of Footloose, USA.

This guest post comes from Sarah K. who I knew back when we lived in the teeny tiny town of Footloose when we were younger. We had slumber parties, we were in the Brownies together, we went to grammar school and junior high together….oh man, the dirt she has on me.

I was going to put up a photo of us from my 14th birthday party but my 80’s hair is way too embarrassing. I’m sure I used about two bottles of Aqua Net on it. Sarah is one of the few people who I trust from back in the day (besides Sarah M.) that knows about my blog.

My 5th birthday party at an after school program. Sarah’s on the left and me and my very short haircut my mom loved are on the right. I have some groovy clothes on too. :^)



Q and A with Sarah K.

Elle:  If the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow, which weapon would you want to have to fight these brain eaters?

A. a flame thrower.

B. an unlimited supply of ninja throwing stars.

C. a chainsaw.

D. a shoelace because you’re bad ass.

E. other and what would it be?

F. none of the above, I want to be a damn zombie!

Sarah: E. I would like to have my husband’s brain. He is always full of it so his brain must be huge and would keep the brain eaters busy long enough for me to get away.

Elle: If you could be stuck in an elevator with anyone who would it be?

Sarah: I have four kids; I don’t want anyone in there with me. I just want to be alone.

Elle: What song(s) makes you want to dance around your house and/or brings you back to your teen years?

Sarah: I try to block out my teen years so let’s go with my early twenties. Anything Beastie Boys makes me shake it.

Elle: A favorite non-mommy activity?

Sarah: Sleeping uninterrupted for 8 hours.

Elle: What’s a favorite book that you like to read to your kids?

Sarah: My favorite children’s book is “Go the Fuck to Sleep” but it’s inappropriate to read to my kids so we read “Where the Wild Things Are.” I have it memorized so it doesn’t require any thought, just page turning.


Packing Smacking

by Sarah K.

I am honored to be a guest blogger on Elle’s site. I grew up in Footloose, USA and had the pleasure of spending my grade school and very early teen years with her as my close friend. I am the proud mother of 4 wonderful children. My children are 4, 5, 6 and 19 (yes, I know I am crazy.)

I have 2 boys and 2 girls. I have been married for 8 years. My husband and I have been a couple for almost 12 years and friends for 18 years. We lived together (in sin, OMG) for 3 years before getting hitched. I have one sibling that I have only seen three times in the past 15 years and parents that live a little too close for comfort. Perhaps my parents are the reason that my brother lives so far away and chooses not to visit. Actually, I am sure that is the reason.

We recently went on vacation to Lake Tahoe to visit my brother for the first time in 8 years. This was only the second time my husband has met him.

I am proud to say that with the exception of one incident, we didn’t have any issues with the trip even though it was the 3 youngest kids’ first time flying. My oldest son’s time on the trip is an entirely different matter. He deserves his own post and I will table it for another day.

When my husband and I were first together I was a care free packer and often would overlook taking key items. Once we had the smaller children I turned into an over achiever freak show and literally packed EVERYTHING. Now that my children are a little older I have reached a happy medium and seem to pack just right. I am super organized including individual art boxes and snack bags for the children on the plane as well as a binder with all vacation activities organized as to when we were doing them. Maybe I am OCD?

On the evening prior to our departure, I started the huge task of packing for a family of 6. I waited until the last minute because that seemed like the smart thing to do to ensure I had the children’s favorite stuffed animal or toy of the day (or it could be because I am a total procrastinator.) I sent my husband out to the garage to get both sets of our luggage.

He came back looking a little baffled and said “What does the luggage look like?” I responded “Well, it’s black, has a handle that pulls out, wheels on the bottom, a shiny zipper and has our name and address on it.” My husband responded by rolling his eyes at me and grunting. I held my tongue and refrained from what I wanted to say which went something like this “Excuse me dumb ass, I am not the one that asked what the luggage we have had for 7 years looks like.”

My husband disappeared again into the garage and returned shortly with 1 set of luggage. After much deliberation we determined that my husband who has a genius IQ, but the common sense of a yard gnome had put our other set of luggage into our storage unit because he thought it was his sister’s.

I would just like to mention that when I say “our storage unit” the only our part is that our name is on the bill, not my husband’s loser sister who has all of her crap in it. We only have the storage unit because we got tired of our garage being completely full of her stuff. Perhaps I should mention here that we only came into possession of her stuff because my sister-in-law’s house was foreclosed upon and my husband and I moved all of her possessions from her tiny (2,700 square feet) house for her while she decided to go to the spa (rehab.)

The spa stay wasn’t quite long or relaxing enough and a crime spree soon followed which turned into jail, which turned into eternally paying to store her crap. I am obviously, not bitter or holding a grudge (if you believe that then I have a pot of gold at the end of the nearest rainbow for you.) Sorry, back to the story….The storage place was closed for the night and wouldn’t open in time in the morning. Plus, I couldn’t remember if we could access it, because that is seriously the last bill I pay each month. I was not about to go buy new luggage because I am a cheap skate and it was literally taking every penny just to go on vacation. I got on the phone and called my best friend.

She herself was going out of town, but had a small bag we could borrow. She checked with her boyfriend who also had a couple of bags for us. I went from shaking in frustration to hysterically laughing from joy by the time I hung up the phone. I decided to send my husband over to pick the luggage up from them. It was one stop shopping since they live together. This of course was a mistake. When my husband was leaving he said “I am going to go ahead and hang out over there awhile since all you are doing is packing.”

This was when the door closed and my mouth hit the floor. How was I supposed to pack without suitcases? After several nasty phone calls on my part and Tiger Woods Golf games on his part my husband returned triumphantly. That’s when I saw the luggage. At this point the cursing came flowing from my mouth like when Ralphie explodes in the Christmas Story. One of the suitcases he brought back was a circa 1970 suitcase with a rope (yes you didn’t misread it, rope) handle. At this point I didn’t care and packed all our bags saving the best one for last.

Thankfully, we didn’t need to use the ghetto rope bag and we had the best trip ever. Moral of the story – pack well in advance or marry someone who is an only child.

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