Creative Juices

I'm Incapable Of Doing Any Good On My Own

This past weekend, Steve and I flew up to NJ (well, actually, we flew to Philly, rented a car and drove 2 hours to NJ... just be extra complicated). The majority of the trip was nice. We stayed with family (Auntie V and Uncle Jack) on Friday night. We had actually booked an expensive hotel room for that night, but, since Steve's family is so good at miscommunicating, we changed our plans late Thursday night and saved a few bucks.
This was the first time Steve and his father had seen (or talked to) each other since The Great Incident of November 2003. I was a little worried that things might not go so well. But, lucky for us all, they're both equally good at acting like nothing ever happened. Things started off a bit tense, but by the end of the weekend, they could stand to speak to each other again.
Saturday was the wedding. My 4th NY wedding. So, I'll just highlight the details that made this wedding interesting.
The ceremony was the most Catholic I have been to. But the priest was weird... he'd say things like "we're going to pray now, okay?" He made lots of jokes... including making the groom say his vows again because he wasnt looking at the bride the first time around. The rest of it was boring, and so pointless...
So, after the ceremony we drove out to Long Island (from Staten Island) to a nice nice hotel in White Plains. We checked in and then headed out to the buses. Yes, buses. They chartered buses to take everyone that was staying at the hotel to the reception. The reception was very nice, beautiful hall, right on the Long Island Sound. We ate an obscene amount of food and Steve introduced me to his extremely large family (take for instance, Aunt Paula and Aunt Pauline. Sisters. Both with sons named John. Yeah, right. Like I'll ever know the different between them). It was weird to have my husband's family and family friends say "I remember when you were 'this' big." One woman hadnt seen me since I was five... she said I looked exactly the same... "uh, thanks?"
We stayed late, and I didnt get to bed till 2am.
Then, Sunday suuuucked. Like the suckiest day EVER.
Let me start from the beginning. At some point on Saturday, Steve asked me what time our flight was on Sunday. Well, I didnt buy the flight, I only looked at the itinerary once... I was kinda leaving this trip up to his organizing, cause, well, I needed a break from being crazy organized. I just wanted to relax and be lead around all weekend. But I did have a time in my planner... 2:30. He said that sounded good, so for the rest of the day, we walked around with that time in our head. Never looked at the itinerary he printed out or anything. Sunday morning, as we're backing up to leave, it occurs to me that I had told my friend Rachel to be at the airport at 2:30. That was not our departure time, but our arrival time.
Which made us miss our flight. Bad. We got on stand-by for the next flight. It was over booked. Same with the flight after that. At 5:30pm, Steve decides we should just rent a car and drive the 6 hour drive home.
Then, came the problem with our luggage. Which had been checked. After much confusion and a bit of yelling, the baggage guy promised our bags would make it to RDU. Thats all we wanted to know.
So, we headed home. We got to the airport a little after 12:30am. And the nice US Airways people had gone home for the night. We could see our bags in the little glass room, but no one would let us have them. Which meant returning back there this morning to get them.
Not fun.
I'm hoping there was some mysterious reason for all of that to happen. And not just to reiterate to my husband that he married a dumbass.

She's A Maniac

Procrastination is really a new thing for me. There was a time, when no one would ever refer to me as a procrastinator. I finished papers and assignments early, I met all deadlines with ease, I packed for trips weeks before I was leaving for them... Seriously, in high school, I would live out of a suitcase for a month, anticipating leaving for camp. Even when we moved to North Carolina, the apartment was packed way ahead of time.
But, in the past few years... it's been getting worse and worse. I pack the night before a trip, I wait till the last minute to burn CDs for church, I dont buy cat food till the container is empty; even at work, I wait till the last minute to complete a project... it's terrible! What is happening to me???

All I Wanna Do Is Have Some Fun

I think the bees are trying to tell me something. Something along the lines of "I'll get you my pretty..."
Bees have been everywhere! All up in my business. And they smell my fear, I know it.
Sunday, while sacrificing for my friends, we ate lunch outside at Brixx. It was a lovely day (even I'll admit that). Until the big mean bee came and decided to hang out at our table. So, I put about 10 feet between me and the table while The Steve and Michael crazily swatted it away, making a huge scene. But then, of course, I spent the rest of the meal paranoid that it would return. Allowing this moment to occur: Sabrina sees The Steve flapping his napkin on his lap. Sabrina assumes the bee has returned Sabrina screeches "Are you serious? He's back?" And jumps up from her chair. Michael cracks up laughing. "He's just adjusting his napkin, Sabrina." Oh. Right. Sure. That's not what it looooked like.
Today, on my way to lunch... I encountered three different bees. All after me. On the way to my car... a bee thought it would be fun to follow me. You know he was laughing as I ran around my car waving my arms around. (Go ahead, you can laugh too). Then, while at the McDonalds drive thru... a bee was flying around my window. I actually rolled my window up as she was about to hand me my food. When I thought the coast was clear, I rolled it down just enough to get my food and go. I know she thought I was insane. (okay, maybe I am). The third bee was at the front door to The Bishop's House (where I work, no Bishop actually lives here). I walked around to the back door.
Damn bees. See, I might be allergic. Could even be DEATHLY allergic. But, I've never been stung, so how would I know? Thankfully my mom instilled that crazy fear into me at a young age and now it will drive me insane forever and ever. Way to go, Mom.

Update: I found my jacket. I know you were all worried. It was at Rachel's house.

You're Always Up To No Good

I've lost my jacket. I mean, I dont know what I did with it. I was wearing it yesterday when it was so crazy cold at work... and now... gone. And it's cold. Luckily, Mary had an extra Something Warm she let me borrow. But its like four sizes bigger than me, so I kinda look like a little kid walking around in their parents clothes. But I'm warm, and that's all that really matters.
Last night, I babysat The Girls. Kyra and Meg. I've really truely fallen in love with these girls. The craziest thing is that at ages 6 and 4, they are such little big people. And I wonder if I was such a little person when I was that age. Did my mom sit and watch me and go "Boy is she going to be anal retentive when she grows up...." Kyra is very much like me. She likes things in order, to be exact, she watches the clock, knows her bedtime, knows the way you should color Angel Cake. She prefers to sit in a chair by herself, but by the end of the night, wishes she would have been cuddling with someone. Meg, on the other hand... she quite the little drama queen. Hopefully she'll grow out of it a bit. She requires lots of real attention. She's quick to speak and act, and sometimes careless. She's in your face and very touchy feely. And, she colors Angel Cake however she damn well pleases.
I love 'em.

So When The Whole World Turns Against Me

For the past eight years (whoa) I've been questioning the motives, reasons, evidence, biblical foundation and so on of all things "Christians" do. Not in a "you guys are stupid" sort of way... I understand how easy it is to trust in whoever tells you thats the way a good Christian faith goes... whether it be your parents, your pastor, your university. We (as humans) need people to believe in as much as we need a god. And why would your parents tell you things that have no foundation? Well, because it's what their parents told them...
I think I must have missed that part of my childhood... you know the one, where the kid asks "why?" to everything you say until you run out of answers and end with "Because." or "That's just the way it is." or "God made it that way. Now shut up." So, in my late teens, I started asking "Why?" Why do we close our eyes and bow our heads when we pray? Why are we supposed to do 'daily devotions'? Why must we constantly readdress God when we pray? Who determined what words are considered curse words? And so on. The brunt of this questioning occured (of course) during my second year at Liberty University. I entered the school as a young naive little Christian, wanting to spend all of my days and nights with other people like me that would help me 'grow' and 'mature' as a 'believer in Christ.' Instead, I learned of all the hypocrisy that hides beneath it. Not to say everything about my alma mater was hypocritical... but there was certainly much more than I even imagined there could be. Like I said, I was naive. With that realization, I decided that my faith in Christ would be my own. Everything I do is because I believe I should, and most of that belief is based on what I consider fact. Still a bit wishy washy, I know.. nearly impossible to perfect, I know... but mine and mine alone.
I say all this, I guess, as back story.
Because the other day, a friend of mine made the cliche statment I've heard a thousand times before... "God doesn't give you more than you can handle." And I thought... hmmm... how do we know this? Is it actually in the bible somewhere? Do we base this on accounts of how God treated others? And, what exactly does 'handle' mean? God wont stress you out to the point of death? to the point of instanity? to the point of you crying really really really hard? Can't God do whatever He wants? My assumption would be that we (collectively) created this statement as another way to console someone going through a rough time. We dont actually know if it's true, but we like to believe that God is on our side of things. And really, when someone is crying and venting about how terrible things are for them, we all want something wise and uplifting to say. "It'll be okay," just isnt enough sometimes. This statement seems factual, you could even add a "Duh" at the end. "God doesn't give you more than you can handle, duh." (Now stop whining). I digress.
Maybe you know. Maybe you have a verse you can throw at me as your proof that this statement is true. I certainly dont claim to know it all, and doubt I'll ever have answers to all the things I question.
Well, that was certainly a bit deeper than my normal self. Dont worry, I'll bring it back down to meaninglessness...
Mmm, I love Pantene.

And I Wont Tell No One Your Name

YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (NAME OF FIRST PET + STREET YOU GREW UP ON)
Brandi Rosewood

YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (NAME OF YOUR FAVORITE SNACK FOOD + GRANDFATHERS FIRST NAME)
(I like way too many snack foods, but we'll go with) Cookie James

YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (FIRST WORD YOU SEE ON YOUR LEFT + FAVORITE RESTAURANT)
Dawson Maggiano

EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice + Last Foreign Vacation Spot)
Cinnamon (I've never been outside the states, nor have I ever really vacationed)

SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname + Town Where You Were Born)
Monkey Brooklyn

"FLY GIRL" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial + First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name)
S. Aus (which would sound like Sauce, which is funny)

ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight + Any Liquid in Kitchen)
Chocolate Cheerwine

DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal + Where You Went to High School)
Kitten Satellite

BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate + Your Favorite Drink)
Cookie Dough Cosmo

SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name + Street Where You First Lived)
Marie Avenue L (hmmm, NY street names dont make for good last names)

I Swear I Knew It All Along

Currently, my breath smells like onions. Yummmm. Thats because I had onion rings at the Marketplace (Duke's cafeteria). I also had a grilled cheese. And though I appreciate the grill man's attempt to give my grilled cheese real grill marks... it tasted pretty disgusting. And it made me wonder whens the last time he cleaned that grill? Which made me lose my appetite.
While in line to pay for my food, the guy across from me told the cashier "I got a slice of pizza too, but I ate it while I was waiting for my stir fry." That made me laugh. Gotta give him props for being honest though.
Sitting in the cafeteria, watching all the kids (and their iPods) made me miss college. Just for a smidge. Then it made me want an iPod (more than before).

This weekend, I attempted to finish painting my stripes. The majority of the kitchen is done. That feels nice. When you're at the other end of the house and looking towards the kitchen, it looks beautiful. However, because blue painters tape sucks (at least the kind I got does), it pulled off the drywall in some spots. So, The Steve had to spackle those up and paint it white again and now I'll have to repaint the stripes in some places. The majority of the damage happened behind the fridge, so, thats nice. I hope, though, this project will be complete before the weekend.
Because, I've got a busy one ahead of me. Emily and Michael will be our first visitors. They'll be arriving late Friday night. Saturday afternoon I'm having my first Creative Memories thing in my new workshop (which is still a mess). Then, later that evening we're having an Art Party. I know, I'm crazy. So much to do, always so little time. And to prepare for all of this and not neglect my TV? It'll be tough. Shows are premiering left and right (though the really important ones, The OC and Alias wont be on till forever).

Oh, here's an update on my replacement jeans. I'm getting used to them, except the pockets in the back have flipped up and it looks like I have wings on my butt. And, I just tried to get the change I had put in my pocket at lunch... and I couldnt. Couldnt get my hand in the pocket to fish out the change. Hmmm. I dont use pockets often... but, I'm still hunting for jeans to call my favorite.

You Take Me By The Heart When You Take Me By The Hand

And another week goes by without me blogging. I'm not going to even bother apologizing anymore.
Currently, there is a grasshopper (or a cricket, I dunno which) hopping around my office. He can jump really really high, the first time I saw him, he jumped from behind me, over my head to the window sill. If my officemate Beth Ann was here, I would have thought it was her throwing something over to me... but no, it was a bug.
Dont worry, I'm keeping a close eye on him... dont want him to jump in Pacey's bowl...
In other news, my wonderful brother is as 13 as they get. He's been out of school this whole week (cause, well, that's what happens when your school gets hit by a hurricane and they dont have electricity). So, as most teenagers seem to do, he spends his days online (okay, not just teenagers...). This week, I learned that he had his first girlfriend... all I got to know about her was her name, Angie, and that she too is a 7th grader at DeLaura. I was actually happy to know she wasnt an older girl... Well, it doesnt matter right now... cause she broke up with him this afternoon. Grrr. I'll refrain from calling her any bad names, because she is, after all, just a 7th grader. But, she didnt even give him a reason.
Luckily, I've held on tight to my junior high and high school years and I remember how things like that could be. So, hopefully my brother will trust my hindsight and come out of all this bf/gf dating crap alright. I think I did alright, considering that the boy I dated my senior year in high school is the man I'm married to now.
I want to be the realest thing in his life.
Meanwhile, back at the new house... (how long do I get to call it that?)... I've been attempting to paint my kitchen. I may have said before that I decided to do stripes. I tested it on the half walls that face the dining room. I love them. But, then I had to go and tape off the rest of the kitchen. Its a damn big kitchen. And then you learn the walls arent exactly straight... neither are the door jams. Sabrina doesnt do well with things like that. There was a lot of banging my head on the cabinets "why? why? why?" It took me nearly four days to tape off all the stripes. One night I spent priming and since then I've left it alone. Tonight, I'm going to go home and start painting... and hopefully finish it up this weekend.
Yep, thats been my week... painting, grasshopper and 13 year old love.

I Want To Know You

Four things you don't know about me:
1. My sophomore year in high school, I was on the crew team. I know, I know, it doesnt seem like a Sabrina thing to do. Being on the crew team required several things that I am very adamant about. Like: being outside, being in or around water that is not chlorinated, breaking a sweat, running, exercising of any sort.. you get the gist. So, how did Sabrina being a member of the Satellite High School crew team come about? Boooys. Older boooys. Junior and Senior boooys. Almost the entire men's crew team just happened to be on the newspaper staff with me. So, when they met me, their little minds quickly developed a plan. One thing you do know about me is that I am... how shall we say... smaller than the average bear. Well, imagine me as a fifteen year-old... weighing in at a whopping 86 pounds. I was a crew teams dream! And after one meeting with the coach, I was quickly their new coxswain. Yes yes, I was the little one at the front of the boat that got to scream "Stroke!" It was a lot of fun and I learned a lot (which I proved to my husband during the summer olympics). I had to row with the girls on occassion, if someone was missing from practice or something. I had to run three miles with the team as well, but usually I cheated on that. I only lasted a year, though. Not because it was too much to handle, but because my commitments to the Yearbook and Newspaper staff grew with my junior year and that became my everything. No time for regattas.
2. I didn't get my drivers license until I was 19. In Florida, you can get your permit when you are 15, and your license when you are 16. At that time, my mom and I were living with this guy (my brother's dad) that thought I was too immature to get my license. (Yeah, I cant explain it). By the time we got out of that craziness, all my friends were driving and I had pretty much gotten accustom to being chauffeured around. The chances of my getting my own car were slim, and next thing I knew I was going off to Liberty (with my driving best friend, mind you). It wasnt until I got a job as a camp counselor (here at Duke) that I decided to get my license. Part of my job requirement was to drive the kids around in 15 passenger vans. I kinda needed a license to do that. So, about a month before I started my job, I passed my driving test and got my license. Shh, dont tell my boss that.
3. I have to lay down after I take a shower. For at least five minutes, but I prefer closer to 15. I dont know if showering is just a lot of work for me and I need a rest afterwards, or if its because I take really hot showers and need the time to cool down. But, if I ever have to go directly from showering to on with my day... it will be bad and I will be grumpy.
4. I've been married once before. His name was Joey W. We were 5. We got married in his backyard by the kid from down the street who said he was going to go a priest. Joey W. bought my ring for 25 cents from the little vending machine at the corner candy store. Within two years, we had seven cabbage patch kids (Leah, Raymond, Samantha, Robert and Anna (twins), Camilla, and Patricia). When we were seven, he moved to Jersey and we got a divorce. Actually mailed paperwork back and forth to make it offical. I got custody of all the kids, of course.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Nick! Welcome to the wonderful world of being 25.

I Mean to Tell You All The Things I've Been Thinking

What I like about my friend Angela's blog is how reflective she is about herself in her entries. She actually has revelations, and reports them to her readers. Sadly I know more about Angela from her blog than I do from having actually conversations with her. In fact, last weekend I started to ask Angela how her week was, and then recalled that according to her blog, it was very busy and tyering. I didnt even have to have a conversation with her.
I dont think I have a point to what I'm saying, so please dont try to find one.
I do know, though, that I am not a reflective person. What am I thinking right now? "My hair smells REALLY good. Mmmm Pantene. I love Pantene." Yep.