why not?

It all started with a New Year's resolution. More like a phrase, really. I wanted to take risks this year and step out of my well worn comfort zone. So I decided to ask myself a question each time an opportunity arose, and the question was "why not?" The purpose of that question was for me to examine why I was saying no and hopefully encourage me to say yes.

I put this to the test a couple of times in early January, I went riding on a scooter in the Bahamas, slid down a huge water slide (that may not sound like a risk to you but it's not my thing, people!) both of which I would normally say no to. In mid January, I decided to stop making excuses and start dancing again, because why not?  If you know me or my family, you'll know my sisters and I grew up dancing. After high school I went on to major in dance in college. I continued to dance after college but not nearly as often. After a couple of years my "real" job started interfering with rehearsals. I decided that it was time to give dancing up. So I stopped. That was in in May 2012.

Hear no evil, Speak no evil, See no evil -1997

 Soon after college I started dealing with anxiety and even had a couple of panic attacks. It got even worse during the summer of 2012. Late last year, I started to see a counselor and began working on strategies to cope with my anxiety. Through that I realized that the start of my anxiety coincided with not dancing often, and then getting even worse when I stopped dancing entirely. Now, I don't believe that not dancing was the reason for my anxiety. I had a lot of life changes going on (getting married, graduating college, husband in medical school, new (stressful) jobs) but I do believe that I used dance to cope and relieve stress most of my life. Once I took dance out of the equation I lost my best coping mechanism.

Diamond Fairy in Sleeping Beauty - 2003

Thankfully, I have learned to cope with anxiety and stress without dancing (let's face it, my body is slowly deteriorating and it's not going to be able to dance forever!). In January, I decided I wanted to revisit one of my first loves - dance. I had taken a class before with a student organization on Virginia Tech's campus and decided I would try that again. I ended up finding a student organization specifically focused on ballet and my sisters danced with a couple of the dancers in the organization in high school. I contacted one of them and she gave me their class information. She also asked me to audition to be a part of their show in March. My first instinct was to say absolutely not! I knew I was out of shape and older than all of them. Yet, I asked myself the question, why not? I couldn't think of any real reason not to. What was holding me back was fear. I decided to audition and audition I did. They accepted me and thus my dancing career started again.

College - 2010

There have been days when my feet hurt, days when I was tired and felt too old, and days where I didn't feel like dancing. BUT through all that, I still felt joyful, exhilarated, and alive each time I danced! What is the saying? Absence makes the hear grow fonder? That's usually used in the context of relationships but it's true with almost anything. I took dancing for granted for so many years. Now, I appreciate and treasure each time I get to dance because I know what it's like without it and I know there will be a day when I truly won't be able to dance anymore.

To Build a Home - 2014 (photo credit: Kevin Dickel, photo courtesy of Ballet Project at Virginia Tech)

So ask yourself when an opportunity arises, why not? Who knows where it will take you. 

i'll cross that bridge

Let me tell you a story...

There once was a guy who really liked this girl. The girl didn't like the guy. Well, not like THAT. She thought he was a nice guy and liked being friends with him, but that was it. They would hang out from time to time, always with one of the girl's sisters in tow (much to the guy's chagrin). One of those times, they were all hanging out in her living room. During one of their conversations, they got onto the subject of weddings (much to the girl's chagrin). While they were talking they guy asked the girl, "What kind of wedding do you want?" The girl not wanting to give the guy any ideas, blurts out,  "I'LL cross that bridge when I get there!" Emphasis on the "I". The guy got the picture loud and clear. Not for the first time did he leave the house with his dreams crushed.

Would you like to know the end of the story? Well, the girl ate her words.


They crossed that bridge together. 

gettin' thrifty with it

Goodwill, oh, Goodwill! Why must I always leave thee empty handed?

Ok, let me just go ahead and put this out there.  It's not because I'm snobby or have high standards, it's because there is literally nothing worth taking home at my local thrift stores.  I read all these blogs and magazines and they talk about all their AWESOME finds at thrift stores. All I ever find are ugly Christmas mugs and faded silk floral arrangements. I have better luck with clothes, it's the home goods section that stinks. I know that the nature of thrift stores is hit and miss but I seem to be missing consistently. Then I went to Goodwill yesterday on a whim and my luck changed. Let's just say I did not leave empty handed! Check out my spoils....

 Sorry for the blurry-ness but if you made out that the sticker says $0.95 you would be absolutely correct!!!! Seriously a complete Apples to Apples came for under a buck! Scott and I love this game but never wanted to spend $20+ on it. 

 Then I found these beauties. I think I got all 3 for under $12 bucks. They were marked down at Goodwill. I didn't know they marked stuff down!

I think I want to hang them somewhere. Kind of along the lines of this: 

 Source

   Last but not least, I found these milk glass vases. I think they were $2 a piece. 

I was thinking of using them like this:

Source

 or this:

Source

Do you have good or bad luck at thrift stores?

a dirty word

I once saw a water bottle that said “Exercise is a dirty word. Every time I hear it I wash my mouth out with chocolate.” That used to be my mantra and I took pride in it.Some of you can attest to my mentality I'm sure.

I never stepped foot in a gym until my senior year of college. All those machines and buttons intimidated me. I don't like looking like an idiot either (who does?) and I was sure that I would embarrass myself. Yet, I still felt fit because I danced. Then I graduated and the dancing slowed down... a lot. When we moved to Blacksburg in the summer of 2010, Scott decided we would join a gym. I wasn't that enthused but I went along with it. He worked out a lot back then. He was trying to lose weight to get the Army to pay for medical school (Thankfully that did not work out. No offense to the Army). I, on the other hand, sat on the couch like a bump on a log. I think I went to the gym 5 times. Totally not worth the money.  Anyway, we renewed our membership this past fall and I've done much better. Sure, I've had a couple of relapses to my couch potato days but I get back into the groove.

Let me tell you though, it was hard. It's still hard. There are days where I feel like level 5 on the elliptical will kill me. The levels go from 1-20 and that's all I can handle. Weak sauce as Scott would say. Other days I think "Why don't I do this all the time? I'm so energized and happy!" I plod or skip along depending on the day but what matters is I do it. 

I also have learned having a goal is huge. I relapsed over a month ago into a slug again. I pulled myself out of my state of inertia and we signed up for the 3.2 Run for Remembrance race here at Virginia Tech. All the sudden I had a goal and a burning desire not to look like an idiot. I hit the treadmill and it has been amazing to see the difference in just three weeks. I went from a mile kicking my butt to running over three at a moderate pass without dying. BUT running on a treadmill is different then running outside. Hopefully I'll manage.

Tomorrow is the big day. We'll be running at 8am and hopefully I'll make it. (My want of a t-shirt is also driving me to finish. Is that bad?)  I know you avid runners out there might think I'm ridiculous but I'm just starting this running thing. Don't judge. We all have to start somewhere.

What goals have you made recently?

The Cookie Chronicle

A couple of weekends ago I set out on the mundane task of grocery shopping. When I walked into the store I saw Girl Scouts. It was like those little girls in tan and green had a glowing aura around them and the Hallelujah chorus in the background. I knew what was now number one on my grocery list. I got the unimportant necessities of life and some cash back. I made a bee line to the Girl Scouts, who, like the sirens in Greek mythology, beckoned me to crash my diet on the rocks of Caramel Delights. I got up to their table and those shrewd innocent girls told me they were almost out. I just wanted two boxes of Caramel Delights and a box of Thin Mints. To my great disappointment they were out of Thin Mints (of course). Those cunning little scouts said if I got 5 boxes I would be put in a drawing for a year supply of Girl Scout cookies. They had me at year long supply. I scooped up the last four boxes of Caramel Delights and one box of Peanut Butter Patties and I trotted out with my spoils. I got home but hid them because I didn’t want to share (I was having a Selfish Sarah Saturday). To my great chagrin Scott found them. He walked out of the pantry with the look of disbelief on his face. He said, “ You got five boxes???” I said, “Yes.” rather sheepishly. I think he still couldn't believe it even with the weight of five boxes in his hands. The feeling of a total glutton hit me in the face. I asked myself why in the world do we need five boxes of cookies? I mean seriously. We decided we would just have to pace ourselves. Fast forward two weeks and we still have a few cookies left. Scott and I have a tendency to uh- er, over indulge so it's pretty much a miracle. Don't worry, those Caramel Delight's days are numbered.

So what is the moral of the story?


Don't trust Girl Scouts.

Turkey Day

Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I'm rather excited about it. It's a lovely holiday. You get to see your family but not be broke from gifts. Also you get to stuff yourself as full as the turkey on the table. What? Just me. Er-uh, moving on. Recently, I realized from talking to my married friends I have yet to go through an important rite of passage. I have not cooked a Thanksgiving meal. Dun Dun Dun. Scott and I have been married for two years and I have yet to baste a turkey or bake a pumpkin pie. So I've been sitting around listening to those a for mentioned friends, who are nervously planning a every minute detail of their Thanksgiving meal, and I feel completely incompetent. Not incompetent enough to do any thing about it mind you. I will continue to bask in my lack of duties and be served delicious food by my mother. I wonder though, is that a bad thing? Possibly. I'll probably be 30, children running all over the place, and be 2000 miles away from my mom, begging her through tears to tell me how to fix the blasted turkey over the phone. Oh well. I'm ready to deal with the consequences later. For now I'll continue to gorge myself on the delicacies presented to me by the expert- AKA my mom.

Yup. Thanksgiving is awesome.



What's your favorite part of Thanksgiving?

24 going on 84

As many of you know I just had my 24th birthday. By most people's standards I'm still a youngin' but at times I question my youth. It's not really aches and pains or pops and creaks. It's something more important. You know how they say an elephant never forgets? My friends, I'm no longer an elephant! My memory is quite terrible. The problem is I really have no excuse. Most people have some reason for their "senior moments". Like having kids, a stressful job, or getting on in years. I have none of the above so what the heck is going on? You may think I'm joking. Well, let me give you an example. This story requires a little set up to understand so bear with me.

Ahem.

When we moved into our house in August 2010, I wanted Scott to change the lock on our front door. You know, just in case someone out there had a key. We painted the front door that day and were waiting for it to dry. It was getting late and we realized we had not bought the doorknob/lock for our door. We could not go to bed without one because I didn’t want any creepers creeping into my house! Scott went to Home Depot and grabbed one. It was the type where you can turn the door knob on the inside whether it’s locked or not. You can probably see where this is going. Anyway, we’ve lived with it like this for a year and never had an issue. My first “Sarah moment” as I will call it, happened at the beginning of August.  I grabbed my purse, my lunch, the Netflix to mail, and out the door I go. Notice anything missing? My keys. I’m now locked out of my house and my car. Scott is in class. My parents are 40 minutes away.  I call my newly made friend Sarah Pupillo (Our husbands are in medical school together) and she graciously took me to work. (I’m sure she thought I was crazy!) This was my first offense so I thought no big deal. False. The very next week I did the exact same thing! I walked right out the door without my keys. As of right now I’m having another “Sarah Moment” and I can’t remember how I even got to work but I got there late. Fast forward two weeks. We have an audit a work that day, which is a big deal. Guess who walks out the door that morning without her keys? Yes, you guessed it. ME!!!! My poor parents had to come get me because no one close by could help me. (If I ever move away from them I’m in big trouble.)  I got to work an hour and half late. It was so embarrassing on so many levels. I’m the office idiot. This is not the last time.  I did it again on a Saturday when I was meeting my mom and my sisters. I had to walk down the road and across Main Street to Books-A- Million and loitered around for an hour. My question is who forgets to get their keys 4 times in the span of a month? I think I’m the youngest person ever with Alzheimer’s! We have resolved the issue so I can’t lock myself now but that in itself is embarrassing, that we had to make “special” arrangements for my brain. On the bright side it makes for good stories!

Time to make me feel better! Have you had any “Sarah Moments” recently?

Our first fight

As many of you know we've been married two years. However, our first real fight happened about two weeks before our two year anniversary.  We've had our moments don't get me wrong but this was our first real all out screaming match. What, you might you ask, could bring these two wonderful, self controlled, mature adults to do such a thing? 

The Culprit

Yes. It's true. We are such fatties that we had our first fight over cupcakes. But let me just clarify, they were not just any cupcakes. They were Georgetown Cupcakes. You know, the ones that are on the TV show D.C. Cupcakes that everyone raves about. Well, as you can see, we had already devoured two, the other two my sister and her boyfriend ate. We saved the last two for later. Obviously, we were up in D.C. when we got these but we left that day to come home. We didn't get back until late. I think it was around 11 pm. Scott wanted to leave everything out in the car. Me, being a girl, needed stuff in my bags. Then Scott, being a guy, decides he is taking everything in at once. I loaded myself up too but not quite as much. How Scott managed to get the cupcakes on top of that pile of stuff in his arms I don't know, regardless he had THE precious cargo. Scott got up to the door while I was still getting stuff out of the car. I look up and he is trying to get the mail. I said "Just leave it I'll grab it when I come up."  but he persisted. I'm pretty sure I was midway in saying that again when I hear something crash. I come running up and there is the box of cupcakes laying upside down on the floor. I was sooooooooooo angry. I don't even know why. I guess being tired and stuck in a car for 5 hours got to me. I pick up the box and open it up, hoping, no praying they were intact. Instead I find a cupcake massacre. I couldn't even figure out who's icing was whose! I started screaming things like "WHY CAN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?" and "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" and the best one "YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING!" I'm sure I said some other things but thankfully I can't remember them. Scott, who at this point had put everything down but the mail, gets in my face, and I mean in my face. He shouts "YOU ARE SO IMMATURE THAT YOU WOULD GET THIS UPSET OVER CUPCAKES!!!!" (touche) I wouldn't have had anything to say back if he hadn't swung open the door and thrown the mail out on the wet grass. I screamed back "OH YEAH THAT WHAT SOOOOOOO MATURE!!!" (Thus making myself even more immature) We then stalked off, fuming at each other. Don't worry it didn't last long.  Soon after, we made up and happily ate our pile of obliterated cupcakes. 

Don't judge.

Won't you not be my neighbor

Neighbors... everyone has them and everyone has THAT one. In our case, we have a few and they are up on my nerves. Here is a little background as to why.

In our townhouse complex each building has four units. It's basically divided into four squares. We live in the front left unit. The neighbors in question live on the back right unit and another neighbor lives in another building entirely and even further to the right. They have three cars between them and they park their three cars in front of our house!!! All the while, the spots that are closer to their side of the building go completely unoccupied. I'm not exaggerating. That leaves Scott and I to park four to five spots from our house. They are either big meany pants or completely unaware of their geographical location. Seriously, it takes them longer to walk from our side of the building all the way around to the other side then it would if they parked on their own side!!! I don't think very highly of their manners and/or their intelligence. I know that we sound lazy but it's the principle of the situation. Anyway, this has a funny story at the end of it. No, it's not a hilarious confrontation (though that might be coming soon). It's something Scott said.  A little more of background is needed. Tonight, we are dog sitting my parents dog, Toby. We pulled in this evening and I was having a mini-tantrum about the parking situation. We (really I) started plotting my revenge. One of the more tame schemes has to do with the new sod one of the neighbors put down in their yard. They told us how they just couldn't get their grass to live through the winter (boohoo!) but had hopes for this year. I said we should go park our car on their special sod and see how they like that! (insert evil laugh) Anyway, the funny part of the story is as follows:

Scott said, "We could get Toby to go poop on their grass."
I was like, "How does that help our situation?"
He said "Well, since they poop their cars on our spots, we'll get Toby to poop on theirs."

Subtle. I like it, but would Mr. Rogers approve? Most likely not. But he must have had a pesky neighbor somewhere along the way. I need to brush up on my Mr. Rogers to see how he dealt with this situation in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

Do any of you have tips on how to deal with inconsiderate nincompoops (aka neighbors)?

The Princess and The Pea

We all know the story of the princess and the pea. If for some reason your mother did not love you enough to share this story with you, here is a brief synopsis.

There was a prince and he wanted to marry a princess (the usual). Well, the prince searched far and wide but could not find the right princess (high standards). He came home from his search quite downtrodden. Later, on a stormy evening, a knock came from the door. The prince opened the door (of course, the butler had to be off).  There stood a girl, drenched with rain, who claimed to be a princess. Well, as these things usually happen, the prince was smitten. His mother, on the other hand, was not. The queen decided to test the "princess". The queen went and heaped a lot of mattresses (the exact amount is to be debated) on top of a pea. The queen knew only a true princess would be able to feel a pea under all those layers. The next morning the queen asked the princess how she slept. The princess said it was awful. The bed was so lumpy she was bruised (princesses are delicate you know). That was proof enough for the queen. Soon after, the prince and the princess were married and they lived happily ever after (this is also to be debated). The End.

My friends, I have a confession. I'm the princess. Yes, 'tis true. I mean, Sarah does mean princess in Hebrew so it's no wonder that I have princess tendencies.  Especially when it comes to my sleeping environment. They are as follows:

1.) Bed. It really has to be my bed. If not, I cannot, will not sleep well.
2.) Human contact. When Scott and I were first married I could not go to sleep with any body part of his touching me. I have actually gotten over this. But it is limited. A hand or a foot, but that's about it. 
3.) Darkness. I have to have complete darkness.
4.) Noise. I cannot have noise except from my fan. See number 6.
5.) Sheets. They have to be straight for me to get in the bed. I don't like twisted sheets.
6.) Fan. I have to have the noise of a fan. This is where it gets complicated folks. It can't be just any fan. My fans are held to high standards. It cannot click or make any repetitive noises. It has to be on low.  It cannot point at me ( I don't like wind in my face.) It has to be facing a certain direction. I can tell if it's not in the correct direction by the sound it's making.
7.) Pillow. It HAS to be my pillow. I also can only sleep on a certain corner of my pillow. Scott has tried to see if I really HAD to have my pillow and switched it out with his. I knew instantly. Don't mess with my pillow!

If any of these things have not come to pass the night before, the princess (that's me!), will have dark circles under her eyes and be very grouchy the next day. Some might say I'm neurotic. Well, probably most of you do. I'm sure any guy that's reading this is thanking sweet baby Jesus that they didn't hitch their wagon to mine. It takes a special guy to deal with a Hunter gal. (That's another blog in itself.) Thankfully, I found that special guy who can deal with my "princess-ness" aka my neurosis. So, what are you supposed to take away from this entry? Deep sympathy for Scott, I would think.

Living with Scott

OK. For those of you that don't know Scott and I live in a townhouse. It's a quite neighborhood with some students but mostly families.  The unit to the right of us has been empty ever since we moved in August 2010. A few months ago we found out that it had been foreclosed on. Well, Scott decided he was going to become a real estate tycoon and he was going to start with buying the place next door.  With what money and resources I don't know. Details, you know, just details.  That's the thing about Scott he can take the smallest thing and run with it. Definitely a dreamer. I'm the practical one or as my sisters would say a dream crusher. Anyway, he did some inquiring with a Realtor but we were told the details weren't available. They would contact us when they were.  The following Saturday I was bumbling around and noticed a few people walking up the sidewalk to the unit next to us. They went in with a Realtor. I called Scott into the room. We proceeded to peek out the window. (Yes, we are nosy neighbors.)   Scott was upset to say the least that the other Realtor hadn't gotten back with us. I was over it and was about to go about my business when Scott was like "No! This is not OK! I have to do something to stop them!" He then proceeded to stomp around our house screaming over and over "YOU"RE GOING TO HAVE LOUD NEIGHBORS! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE LOUD NEIGHBORS!" I was mortified. I mean the only thing that was separating him from those people was a wall!  I tried to get him to stop but he just kept on going.  Scott then decided he wasn't being loud enough. He scooped me up for extra weight and continued galumphing around the house but this time with me slung over his shoulder! Needless to say they left fairly quickly. Scott thought it was hilarious. I can't say that I agreed. But let's face the facts if I hadn't married the fun loving little boy at heart that is Scott King, I would probably be (even more than I already am) a boring goody two-shoes. Oh and someone bought the house. Let's hope they can deal with loud neighbors.



Life Update- Scott finished his post baccalaureate program at Virginia College of Osteopathic Medicine (VCOM) last week. He starts medical school at VCOM August 1st. I had my last day of work at BB&T today and start at Stifel Nicolaus, an investment firm, this coming Monday. Lots of changes for Team King!

It might not be good but it's a reason...

I created this blog more than two weeks ago. Why you might ask have I not blogged anything? Well blogging when it comes down to it isn't very easy. At least to start off. So for this first installment of Living Like Kings I'll delve into why I created this blog.

I decided to start a blog for several different reasons. The reasons are below and in the order they came to me.

1.) I'll just be honest I want to be cool like all my friends that have blogs. Extremely unoriginal and superficial but a fact none the less.

2.) I made myself feel better about my above reason by telling myself that Scott and I have family and friends that are interested in our day to day existence. Which (hopefully) is true.

3.) I dug a little deeper after reason number two. I can be slightly negative at times and tend to ignore the little things in life. For instance the funny thing Scott said the other morning or an act of kindness I observed at the store. Things that make your life more colorful and meaningful. I want this blog to make me more aware of the little things. The positive things. Because let's face, it no one wants to read a boring and/or negative blog.

So all aboard. This could get interesting or totally tank. I'm crossing my fingers for interesting.

-Sarah