A cure for insomnia in my living room

I've never been a big insomniac, thank god. To me, nothing in the world could be worse than wanting sleep and not getting it. My mother suffers through this, and listening to her describe being jolted awake by the tiniest sounds (mattress creaking, mice scampering, me sneaking in late...) sounds horrific to me. I enjoy being blissfully unaware as I sleep.


But I've been sick as a dog lately-- a terrible fall cold that has drained me of my energy, appetite and will to live. Seriously, I didn't know it was possible for so much phlegm to come out of one human being.


I was feverishly tossing and turning the other night, realizing that no matter how much NyQuil I chugged, sleep just wasn't going to happen for me. I looked over at Deb, sleeping so peacefully. Time to get up.


5am is so quiet. I've never been so alert and conscious at this hour in this apartment. Betty was completely weirded out that I was up. I realized that I was infringing upon prime "running around like a maniac and making all kinds of noise" kitty time.


I read on the couch for about an hour and didn't feel any sleepier. Just as I had given up all hope for any kind of sleep, I heard Deb stirring. She stumbled into the living room, bleary-eyed and concerned about me.


I tried to convince her to go back to sleep-- after all, she's the working girl of the house. Being unemployed has definite advantages-- namely, being able to sleep all day if I so desire. But Deb would hear none of it.


This is why I love my girlfriend. Anyone else would have seen the logic in that and gone back to bed. But Deb insisted that she could help me sleep-- all I needed, she said, was a change of location and some serious spooning.


So we pushed back the couch, dragged the mattress into the living room and settled in. And despite the fact that it was getting very light in our living room and despite Betty deciding this was a great opportunity to take lengthy strolls all over our prone forms, it worked like a charm. I fell into the most peaceful sleep, snuggled up to my thoughtful girlfriend.


This guesture of Deb's was so touching and perfectly illustrates the quirky, outside-the-box ingenuity of my girlfriend. I can't remember the last time I slept so well.


Until Betty sneezed in my face. But what can you expect from this bunch? She's a weirdo cat, my girlfriend finds cures for insomnia in unusual places and I am quite content to be at home with the both of them.

Call me, baby

If you know me well, you know that I am a supreme klutz. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that I recently dropped my old clunker of a cell phone into a sink full of water. This, of course, is after I left my previous cell phone in the pocket of my pants that I threw into the washing machine. What is it with me and getting phones wet? And I'm not even going to get into the number of times I've dropped the old phone. I guess I need a water-proof, impact-proof, stupid-proof phone that looks really cute too. Not too much to ask, right? Oh, yeah, and it should be cheap 'cause I'm unemployed.



It was time to take a deep breath and buy myself a new phone. One that I bought with my own money, instead of just waiting for my two year contract to be up. One that I paid full price for, so hopefully I would learn to be more careful in the future.


So I got my clumsy ass to the AT&T store and bought the above phone. I think it's pretty sexy-- definitely not as bulky as the last phone. And it was more money than I wanted to pay, so hopefully this will inspire a whole new, responsible Sara.


You'd think shelling out more money than I wanted on something that I ruined through my own stupidity would make me upset, but quite the contrary, I feel great. I feel like an adult. I made a mistake. I fixed it.


And I have a sexy new phone to show for it.

Feisty

I am totally in love with this video:



The song is 1234 by Feist.

Raindrops on Roses

Laughing... (Amanda McKenna and I)

Being fabulous... (l-r: Amanda McKenna, Dalice, Arizona, Deb, me)

Snuggling... (l-r: Amanda McKenna, me, Dalice)

Telling secrets... (McKenna and me again)

My girlfriend eating chicken wings... (Deb, in all her glory)

These are a few of my favorite things.....

(Thanks to Arizona for originally publishing these photos)

Google me, baby

This is the first image that pops up under a Google search for "Sara May".


I think it's pretty funny. And I like her, um... hair.


I have no idea who this woman is, or if her name is really Sara May, because the website is in some Slavic language.


And apparently there are a lot of porn stars with my name too.


I must admit to being slightly relieved at not finding any actual pictures of myself found through a Google search. I like the whole flying-under-the-radar thing.


Anyway, you might be asking "Why are you googling yourself, Sara?" To which I would have to answer "I'm avoiding the huge stack of dishes in the kitchen".


Right. Back to the dishes.

Sad Clown

Yesterday was the closing day of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. And boy, am I exhausted.



I spent the last weekend working "run crew" for Brat Production's Fatboy. I put "run crew" in quotes, because apparently the meaning of that phrase changes when it comes to Fringe productions.


To me, run crew means that during the show I would move scenery and props, perhaps assist with costume changes and generally be on hand to make sure the show is going smoothly. A pretty sweet gig, actually. And more importantly, I'm not in charge. Ah, sweet relief at not being the boss. A change goes wrong? Not my problem. The lights don't work? I don't have to figure it out.


Really, though, in the Fringe, I think it's just an excuse to make me look like an idiot. Not only we were squeezed onto a ridiculously tiny stage with massive pieces of scenery, not only were the changes hard and hectic, not only did I receive minimal instruction as to what I was actually doing, but.... drumroll please.... I was in makeup. Yes, makeup. And not just makeup-- full "mime" face. The whole shebang: white pancake makeup, red dots of blush, red lips and a bowler hat.


I've done scene changes in a full Victorian maid's costume before. (Thank you, My Fair Lady!). I've made other people wear candy striper uniforms for scene changes before. (Sorry, Rachel!) But I have never, never had to wear makeup.



I'm not saying it didn't fit in with the theme of the show. All of the actors were in the same type of makeup, and all of our changes were done in full light. So I can definitely understand the logic.


It's just that..... I had to wear makeup for these changes. And that made me a very sad clown. Or just maybe a silly girl in clown makeup.


Now don't get me wrong, I'm not really complaining. True, it was way too much work for way too little money. But the people at Brat Productions were super nice, my fellow scene changer was cool and the actors were friendly and super helpful. I had a good time all in all.


But maybe, just maybe, I'm a little too old for this. Certainly I don't want to disparage the production or anyone involved. However, after working my first Fringe Festival, I think it's safe to say that I enjoyed the experience and I will probably not do it again next year.


Now I just might have to pretend I'm stuck inside an invisible box to get the whole thing out of my system.

Salt, salt, where's the fucking salt?

Oh you beautiful, beautiful vice.


Lately I've been enjoying outdoor margaritas at Copa's on South Street with friends. I know, I know, it’s a tourist trap, but the margaritas are fantastic, and cheap. Plus you get to watch all of the freaks of South Street walk by. It was a tradition that Alison and I started, usually with drunk shopping afterwards. (I've come home with some great dresses-- shopping while inebriated is really fun, you should try it.)


Last night Deb and I were joined by the gorgeously articulate Amanda McKenna and the amazingly witty Dalice. It's a wonder I can even type these adjectives, since I am what they call "stupid hungover".


Despite our drunken waitress (really, she was more wasted than we were!) and the fact that it was too crowded to sit outside, we had a rockin' good time.


But I need to learn that while one double margarita is not enough, two double margaritas are TOO MUCH. Oh, my head. Oh, my stomach.


It was worth it, though. And I know I took a lot of pictures using someone else's camera when we got back to the house. Hopefully I'll share them soon so you can see that glazed "I had too many margaritas" look in my eyes for yourself.

One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singing

I can't believe it's already September. It seems that I spend the whole year wishing for warm weather, and then can't fully appreciate it when it's here.

Although the days continue to be muggy and somewhat oppressive, a definite change is coming. The sunlight is changing to that golden fall tone, a few trees are sporting colors around the edges and the nights are unexpectedly cool. Kids are already back in school. The city seems more focused, driven.

Although I still have more than a month before I return to work, it feels like my summer vacation is over. I have Things To Do.

Still, it was a lovely summer. And I hope it will be the end of my "transition phase". No more moving, no more changing jobs, no more sorting out my place in the world. I'm quite content with things as they are right now, and hope to keep them this way for at least a year or two. So hopefully I can relax into this season, into this apartment, into this relationship and into this life that I've been struggling to create ever since.... well.... ever. I've worked hard to get where I am and now I vow to enjoy it for a little while.

I will miss summer, though, and all that it entails. Hopefully in the dead of winter I will remember the simple joys of the season like...


Eating fresh fruit! Or....

Cheering on the Phillies! Swing batterbatter! Or...

Sharing summer meals with friends outside!



It's not over until the fat lady sings, though. Or in my case, it's not over until two men put on dresses and start talking with a Texas twang. So until then, I'll try to squeeze in as many outdoor margaritas, bike rides through the city, spontaneous trips to Franklin Fountain for ice cream as big as my head, drinking beers and cheering on Stephen the douchebag on the porch, reading good books sitting on a bench in Washington Square, hanging our laundry on the clothesline and drinking sun tea while reading all of our magazines that I can.



So goodbye, summer. I'll miss you, I know, but right now I'm very excited to take this peace you gave me and have a great year.