Category Archives: Sara’s Stuff


My last post was heavy and incredibly necessary for me to unload-unburdenmyself with. It’s strange how for me when I crave writing I know it’s part of a bigger healing process that I should pay attention to. I felt lighter literally the day after writing it. Crying and writing…..better than Prozac.

And now for some inspiration.

Mid life crisis??!!

Mid life crisis

Hey all. What’s up? You good? Super.
Yes. I’ve been gone forever. So much to tell you. Too much to put in one post. I need to purge, I miss you guys, whoever you guys even are. I miss putting the real stuff out there. No cares, no worries, no filters, just real feelings, real life crap.

So where should I start? I’ll start from today. What in the hell am I doing you guys? If you are that person who had life figured out as a kid, career, superb self confidence, life goals….you should stop reading and never come back. I’ve wanted to do and be almost everything on the planet. Never really figured out how I would do anything, I just felt the right things would happen and compel me towards my true meaning in life. But as a 43, almost 44 year old I still have no idea what I’m doing.

I know that I am going to a therapist every Friday. I know I will wake up every day. But when does the joy lightbulb come on and reveals with this bright, rainbow filled light my life path? I told my therapist the other day that I’ve always used the, “someday I will do that” line and some days are getting fewer as I get OLDER.

I believe in signs. I believe in divine intervention. I believe everything happens for a greater reason. But I also believe that I’m getting older and feel like I’ve imprisoned myself in fear for 40 of those years. Fear of looking foolish, fear of being ugly, fear of being made fun of, fear of being stupid, fear of not doing it right (nay perfect) the first time, fear of not being anything brilliant or envied. I think envy is the wrong word. I want people to remember me. Remember what I’ve done for others, for them, for myself. I want people to say, “she was amazing. She was such a bright and sunshiny person in my life and I’m so thankful for being allowed to know her.”

I’m sitting in a high school parking lot crying. I need it. I started taking anti depressants about 2 years ago and it seems to suppress my overactive crying gland. ( that’s a thing right?) I find myself feeling guilty and ashamed of wanting or needing to cry. What a silly thing and horrible way to go about my days. I want to be strong for my kids and anyone out there who feels shittier than I do. Being sensitive seems to have left me embarrassed or ashamed of my super power, empathy. I wanted a type A personality. I didn’t get one.

Does anyone else feel tremendous shame daily? Every interaction? I can barely look my own husband in the eye anymore because I’m so ashamed of who I am and who I’ve let myself become. That’s a heavy statement, but so true and I’ve been dying to get it out. Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame. That’s all I feel. Does anyone know how to get rid of this? Like, can I take some   Vitamins, pills, under the tongue oils? Can’t this just go away on demand? Stop it. Get out of here shame. You aren’t welcome. And can we delve into the why? I mean why have I been ashamed of myself since a toddler? I do NOT want my kids to feel the same. I want to fix myself so I know how to fix my kids if they feel the same. My son is cut from my same cloth. Intensely sensitive, kind and tender hearted, empathetic and ready to explode when things get too intense. Pain is felt on new levels with this kid. My daughter on the other hand seems to be more like my husband. A single cell amoeba. Feelings? Sure, he has them, but he has complete control over them and never, ever, absolutely ever feels ashamed. We don’t speak each other’s languages. It’s hard, but I need him to be that way. It settles me a little to know what normal and healthy people are like mentally. I know we balance each other out, so strongly yin and yang.  But that’s why I’m here people. I can’t tell him how ashamed I am. How sorry I am that he is stuck with me. How I wish now than anything I was so incredibly beautiful, confident and intelligent and I wasn’t afraid of a thing. But I’m not those things and I don’t know how to become them.  I’m lost people. I just need someone to tell me what to do. How to fix it. How to be alive.



my mind is in the gutter

So to fill all of you in on the past year of my life, in a nutshell I got pregnant, developed a life threatening blood clot, had to work from home for my official “real” job, became a little depressed with all of that mess going on and then finally gave birth in August to a ridiculously beautiful little girl. Oh and during that time I’ve had plenty of time to read like a champ.


Jumping on the 50 Shades bandwagon, a friend introduced me to the Christina Lauren books. If you haven’t read any of them and you are looking for a sweet, sexy and romantic romp- try their Beautiful series or Wild Seasons. I personally fell in love with Max Stella in Beautiful Stranger and Finn in Dirty Rowdy Thing. What can I say? I apparently have a thing for British exhibitionists and for sure Fishermen.



Spring is here

My house is super quiet. My husband is taking a nap and the toddler who reluctantly went into his room, somehow found his way under his covers and is fast asleep. I tried to nap as well, but I am a bad napper. Always have been. My mind can’t seem to calm down enough to do so. Too many to do lists going on in that head of mine and I need to think about that stuff. After 20 minutes of trying to sleep, I got up and took the most awesome shower ever. It’s a great feeling when you know you can have the bathroom all to yourself for 30 minutes. No barging in, no asking me when I will be out, no peeking in the shower to see what I’m up to…just solitude. And I love taking a shower. Actually my idea of heaven is a sunny bathtub. If I could just find a house that had a big beautiful bathtub right next to a sunny window, I would be one happy gal.

We are in the process of selling our house. It’s the beginning stages, but we are figuring out what we want to clean up, fix up or forget about to get top dollar. There isn’t much to do, small cosmetic touches at this point, to get the house ready. It’s just getting it ready that is the hard part. I am having some conflicting feelings about selling. This is our first home. We have lived here for 13 years. We put so much love, sweat and tears into this house, especially in the garden (my favorite) that I go back and forth about selling. I want someone to love the garden as much as I do, I want someone to take good care of my peonies and roses and all of the little cottage touches we so lovingly added over the 13  years. I told my husband that if/when we sell, I can’t go back and ever look at the house. I will most likely cry. I don’t want them changing the paint color (charcoal gray) or the funky door (persimmon)—there is a whole other door story here.

OK, fine SIDE NOTE: 4 years ago I was feeling VERY depressed about never having a child and my husband was trying his best to uplift me every chance he got. We decided to give our front door a new look, so I picked out Orange, no Persimmon, at least that is what the color swatch said, and hoped that painting the door and adding some new flowers outside would make me feel a little bit of brightness. He took the door off the hinges, got me all settled on some saw horses and brought me every tool I would need to strip the door of it’s ugly burgundy color. I get a little methodical and nit-picky when I do projects, so stripping this door was a b*tch to say the least. The prior owners (since 1962) had painted this door every color under the sun. Stripping, sanding and scraping was pissing me off and I let everyone in the neighborhood know about it. After finishing one side of the door, I decided that the other side looked sort of cool how it was worn away and sanded and wanted to keep it as is. It was the interior portion anyway, so in my mind it was a conversation piece and I am not into typical or traditional–so it stayed. The exterior was scraped and painted and looks awesome. During this whole time my poor husband left me alone. I was not fun to be around. Pissy was my middle name and I didn’t care who got to see it. My poor neighbor/friend came over to see if I was OK (I think my husband might have asked for a pity check in with me) and I burst into tears. I was angry, livid really—hot, my cheeks were on fire and more angry. No explanation for all of this anger, but she understood since she had issues with her girl parts and we had spent hours commiserating over feeling like less than women since we couldn’t bear children. We chatted for hours that day, she from the safety of the opposite side of the fence, and me with paint brush in hand. I cried for hours, she listened. The sun was shining and it was absolutely beautiful outside. I remember questioning myself–why in the world could I be so pissed off when it is so absolutely beautiful outside and my life is so good. Oh right, I can’t give my amazing husband a baby.

Well…the pissiness never went away. In fact, extreme exhaustion was added to it and nausea. The notion of being pregnant never entered my mind. I had taken 400 pregnancy tests in the past 10 years and not once had they been positive so why would it be now? I took one. It was positive. I was shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop shaking. I ran to the phone and called my husband and he told me to take a picture and email him right then and there. I did. Then he told me to take another picture, just to be sure. And on top of that–he wanted me to take another test to make sure. I did. It was positive.

That was the weirdest day of my life. For being so angry all the time, I finally felt some happiness. Such a bizarre feeling. Your body being controlled by someone else, all of your emotions, your ability to keep your eyes open, your appetite…such a weird feeling. I would love to say I will know that feeling again some day, but I am no spring chicken and our perfect boy is a miracle. I would love a little girl for him to watch over, but time is not on my side and my body is a difficult one to get pregnant. The only thing I can do is move on, make the right decisions for my body, be healthy and love myself and family as much as possible. I am trying to do that daily.

So I suppose right now while it’s quiet I am doing the best thing I can with myself, spending time alone and sharing some of the most important parts of myself with you-whomever you may be.


40 Before 40

Hello to anyone who is still with me. I am here. Promise. I really need to be more diligent about writing. Even if no one is in fact reading, I need to commit to the writing portion so that my dreams of business ownership don’t die on me.

It’s easy to let those things go by the wayside. Life can get in the way. Or shall I say grown up stuff gets in the way. I have a job. It isn’t my dream job. But I am grateful nonetheless to have one. I am a creative person. I need to create things, to watch things come alive. To see them blossom. I am trying to be more “Sara” this year and  forward, so in focusing on being my true authentic self…I wrote out a list of things that I want to accomplish before I turn 40. Shhh, don’t talk about it. I am completely in denial that I am even close to this number, but hey–guess what? I am. It seems like yesterday I was turning 30. What happened to those years? Why did I do nothing important, sacred or meaningful with those years? It is totally true what women say that they were more in touch with themselves and confident at 30 over 20 and age 40 over 30. I am finding that to be more and more true as each day passes.

I no longer fret so much about what people think of me, and more of what I think of other people. I have removed toxic people from my life and allowed people that I find inspiring to fill it. I am getting better every day at identifying those toxic relationships before they flourish and putting a serious HOLD on them and that would never have happened in my 20’s.

Ok, so I should get back to my list. I am trying this whole free-writing angle now and again–if you read it awesome. If not, that’s fine too, since this is really more for me at this point than any of you out there. If it touches a nerve or shall I say a sweet spot, lovely. I hope I can help. That’s my true self. Helping people.

So, I would love to say that I feel comfortable broadcasting my list out into the inter-web, but I am not sure I do. There are a few things on there that I would like to leave to myself and/or my husband but then again, I am not really one to hide things. OK, fine. You convinced me. I am going to publish this for all to reach and hold me accountable for my list.

Here we go.

No judging.

No nasty comments.

Here it is folks.

  1. Fit comfortably into a size 12 or less—and STAY there
  2. Have another baby
  3. Take up Hot Yoga on a regular Mon-Fri basis
  4. Quit my Insurance Job
  5. Start my own business
  6. Travel to New Mexico
  7. Publish my book on “beauty/photography”
  8. Go on a Classic American Road Trip with Martin
  9. Take Pole dancing classes
  10. Go vegetarian for 30 days ***Update—6 days down….***
  11. Go to Italy
  12. Plan and have my “summit” event
  13. Visit Thailand
  14. Run a marathon
  15. Skydive
  16. Go to an actual Meditation class
  17. Go to the South—Georgia
  18. Read all of the books in my book shelf that I
    bought for myself to read
  19. Go on a mission trip
  20. Swim with a dolphin
  21. Kiss Martin behind a waterfall
  22. Read the Bible
  23. Watch the sunrise in a warm, peaceful place with
    Martin **technically we did this on our honeymoom several times–I think that counts!
  24. Learn to speak French again
  25. Take a Tantric Class with Martin
  26. Pay off Credit Cards
  27. Participate in a Cancer Fundraising walk—the
    walk part.
  28. Go to Paris with Martin
  29. Find Perfect shade of red lipstick
  30. Teach a class on meditation and self esteem
  31. Plan a girls only vacation
  32. Go on hot air balloon ride
  33. Feed the alligators a chicken
  34. Watch the sharks in a shark cage-exotic trip
    included in this one with Martin
  35. Redesign The Pear Mercantile
  36. Stop drinking Coke
  37. Ride the scooters in Palm Springs
  38. Drive/Ride in a dune buggy
  39. Have a family photo taken that I am in love with
  40. Learn Web design and graphic design




It is amazing what type of awful junk you can find on the Internet and even more amazing the empowering things that are surfacing. I recently found this site and have been exploring it daily. I am not a super model, I don’t intend on ever being one (to dream) but it is nice to have a place that is purely about loving who you are as a person in this shell of a body instead of focusing on the outward appearance only.

I have been trying to turn my focus on this over the years and this blog is one small step in doing so. I love trying to help other women feel better about themselves and I am the biggest fan of the makeover. But why is it that we focus so much on making the outside pretty? When really all we need to do is know we are pretty, solidly believe we are pretty and live as today is our last? I might be a little soap boxish here–but really?? why in the world do I and everyone else spend so much time obsessing over the exterior shell? We all have one. We are all different. And we are all beautiful. Period. End of story. So who out there dictates why we are or aren’t beautiful? And why do we follow or believe what other people tell us? Why and when does this start? Why would I NOT feel beautiful?

I don’t understand it. It is the most puzzling thing to me. When do we NOT feel beautiful? I have a son, I tell him constantly how much I love him and how amazing he is. He has no concept of beauty or who is worthy of love over another. So when will he learn this? Will I teach it to him without knowing I am? I don’t want to be that person who teaches him that someone is more beautiful over another, but I am sure that bias seeps down from somewhere–from layers and layers of learned behaviour. I myself follow it constantly. I want to stop. I am trying to stop. I am trying to start with myself. I need to set an example for  my child. I need to set an example for myself.

Enough soap box talk.

The bottom line is this, I want to feel beautiful, honestly, sincerely, deep, intense, amazingly strong knowledge of how beautiful I am. I don’t mean this as the shell of my body. I mean as a person-shell and all.

So how do I do this?

Photo from



I just wrote this super long post about motivation and how much I suck at it…I am so irritated. I suppose my whining was not meant to reach out to the internet. So in it’s place I will leave you with this recipe that I made today. UGH!!! My thoughtful words have disappeared…but here is a Warm Pear and Hazelnut Tea Bread recipe to try out.





Way before her time

Two reasons why I am posting this video.
1. My son is obsessed with it and dances all over the house when I play it.
2. I remember thinking how the cheerleaders were "fat" when I was younger. Now that I see it again, the cheerleaders were strong and I guess one would consider overweight--but they still know how to move it and work it like the skinny girls.
That Toni Basil was way before her time. I am pretty sure it was a hot topic in the 80's and now I applaud her.