I can't wait to take you home, fingers through your hair, kisses on your back, scratch me with your nails.

So I've started writing on three or four different occasions, and I always get interrupted. I WILL finish this entry, damn it.

I also need to finish it because my computer at home has some kind of virus I need to get fixed, so it has the hardest time with any simple, medial computer task.

I'm back home, obviously, and I made a realization the other day, driving down one of Raleigh's busy roads. Raleigh can be compared, for me, to the love of your life that you lost for some reason. The one that got away, if you will. You know, a lot of people have that one person that they were madly, probably stupidly in love with, but that, for one reason or another, is no longer in their lives. But they still see that person occasionally, and every time they do, they remember exactly why they fell in love with them in the first place, and they're tempted with the what ifs. "What if we got back together?" "What if I/they just changed a little? We could make this work."

In my case, though, it's having that person that you see occasionally while you're actually happily in a relationship with someone else. I love my town. I love living in the mountains. But Raleigh is that sexy guy that you see every now and again and can't get out of your head for days afterward, even though you really are in love with who you're with at the moment. Raleigh is the person you find yourself thinking about while making out with the person you're with right then, who you really do love, but that doesn't have quite the excitement and passion of your previous relationship. I never got over Raleigh, you see. If I were to look back on living there, really look at it, I would remember why I wanted to get out of Raleigh in the first place. But I forget those things when I'm driving through the city, going more than the posted 35 that is present through most of the county I'm in now, with the windows down and a hundred other cars on the road. Raleigh is The One That Got Away, but with which I know I wouldn't be happy if we got back together.

No. Raleigh is that exciting, older married gentleman you met during your semester studying abroad in college that bought you things and took you out to expensive restaurants, but that you could never actually be with, because it wasn't practical. You still correspond occasionally and see him when he's on the odd business trip to the States, but you can't be together, because nothing about it would work out. He'd leave you eventually, for the next cute thing that came along. But you loved him.

Is it weird that I'm comparing a city to a relationship? It might be a little weird.

So, I have to say, yesterday was a high self-esteem day for me. I don't want to sound. . .braggy, I guess, but days like this are few and far between, so I figure I should document so one day, I can look back on it and say, "See? You were cute that day."

Despite the fact that I was coming back to a job I loathe after a fabulous four-day weekend in Raleigh, I thought, "I'm going to look cute today. I am determined to have my outfit match the mood I feel I should be in."

I don't know if you know this about me, but I love, love, LOVE clothes. I have entirely too many. Clothes and shoes. I know this is a very girl characteristic, but I'm ok with that. I like putting together outfits and, truly, the high point of many of my days is putting together an outfit that I love.

Yesterday's outfit was centered entirely around this pair of shoes I bought this weekend. I actually bought several new (to me) things at various Goodwills and thrift stores in Raleigh and Greensboro (Have I ever mentioned how much I love Plato's Closet? J'adore Plato's Closet.) I bought three pairs of shoes from a Raleigh Goodwill, one of which was a pair of Sketchers (my favorite shoe brand) boots that I got for $6. I don't know how much any of you know about Sketchers, but, essentially, $6 would pay for. . .maybe 1/4 of one of their pairs of sandals. It's ridiculous. Anyway, it was the shoes to the right.

I'd originally found them at a Kohl's in Raleigh, but they only had a size 6 1/2. By that point, though, I was a woman on a mission. I had to have these shoes. Luckily for me, on the way back home, I passed through Greensboro, and there are two Kohls' in Greensboro, and I was prepared to go to both of them in search of these shoes. Luckily, I found them in the first one, and while I would have preferred a 9 to a 9 1/2, the 9 1/2s fit as long as I stuff the toes. And they look amazing. I haven't felt this good about a pair of shoes in some time. I put them on and it was like. . .I don't know. I felt awesome.

That's a lot of power to give to a pair of shoes, but that's how I felt.

When I first saw them, I thought to myself, "You know, you have a shirt that will match those PERFECTLY." A purple V-necked Wal-Mart T-shirt went with the shoes and the outfit was topped off by this cute black skirt I have. I don't even remember where I got it. I want to say one of my mom's friends was getting rid of a bunch of clothes, and that's how I inherited it. Regardless, it's one of my favorites.

So I was feeling good yesterday, and I got several compliments, telling me of the awesomeisity of the outfit. When Carrie and I were coming back from a food event we were covering (more on that later), Carrie said, "You know. . .I don't want this to sound weird but. . .You've got really great legs. Those shoes make them look really good." That was basically awesome. My Ex used to tell me daily that I looked good and he'd compliment me all the time, but then that stopped and, to be honest, I've missed it. A lot. I like when people notice me, and God knows it doesn't happen often, so yesterday was a really good day for me, in that respect.

So the food thing. It was this event, a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity, and it was a competition, with all kinds of yummy (sampleable!) food. I, for the first time in my life, had caviar. And I have to say, I'm not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was just there. It didn't taste like anything. I don't really understand why people pay so much money to eat, you know, fish eggs that don't taste like anything. They don't even taste like fish. It was literally like eating little nodules of nothing. Very disappointing.

I took pictures while I was there, but I'm not altogether pleased with them. I need to, for one, get a better camera to use, and I also need to learn more about how light works within photographs. I'm a decent photographer, but if I were to learn the hows and whys of light and things like that, I could be 100 percent better, I think.This cake, incidentally, looks delicious, but it wasn't very good. Not only did it have nuts and weirdness in it, it just didn't taste very good, in my opinion. It was pretty, though.

This guy at work is having a Halloween party that I'm considering attending. There are, however, two factors that I need to have figured out before saying I'll go. First of all, I need a costume of some sort. Nothing fancy, but I haven't dressed up for Halloween since. . .junior year of college? And I want something creative. Secondly, there's someone that could potentially be there that I need to find out if they're going to be there or not. You might say, "But Sarah, are you going to let one person ruin a potentially fun night for you?" Well, yes. Because if she and I are both there, it wouldn't be fun for me. Call me petty, call me immature (you wouldn't be the first) but being in the same room with this person makes me so supremely uncomfortable, it really wouldn't be any fun for me at all. Especially now, because she's being overly nice to me whenever she sees me, and I don't trust that. You don't go from threatening someone to being really nice to them without some kind of underlying motive. I just don't trust it and, therefore, I just go out of my way to not put myself in situations that will make me uncomfortable. Discomfort = not fun. I'll have to figure out a way to find out if they're going or not before I confirm or deny my attendance.

Oh, and for those keeping track, there are 22 more shopping days until my birthday. (Yes, I'm kidding. I said that to someone once, and they told me how greedy I was. It's a joke people. I do that occasionally.)

One of my friends had a job interview today, and I'm wishing them luck. Mainly because I could also benefit from the person receiving the job. That's all I'll say about it, but keep your fingers crossed for all involved, and I'll be sure to keep everyone updated. Because I know you're all dying to know.

Oh, and happy birthday to Steph! I think she reads this.

So that brings me to my final thought. I'm not entirely certain how many readers I have. As far as regular readers go, I know I have at least six. As far as occasional readers go, I have around four. So that's 10-ish. What I would like to do is to extend an invitation of sorts. Sometimes I don't update because I don't really have anything to say, so I'd like to ask y'all to give me things to say. About what would you like to know? I'd be happy to answer questions, give opinions, post pictures, whatever. I like knowing people read my little corner of the Internet, and if I am to ever reach my goal of Professional Blogger (wouldn't that be awesome?), I'd like to be interactive. So give it to me. (That's what she said.) If you're dying to see a picture of, say, what shoes I'm wearing today or if you have a question like, "Sarah, would you like to see me naked?" I'd like to hear it.

(Incidentally, I'd rather you didn't ask if I'd like to see you naked. Because for at least two people, the answer would be, "I already have," and that would just be awkward. To ease your minds, maybe a little, for one of those people, it's been at least. . .15 or 16 years since that occurred, and we're also related. Or maybe that just makes you really concerned. I'll stop.)

But yes. And if you don't want me to know you're reading, I'm pretty sure there's a way you can do that anonymously. Although why you wouldn't want me to know that, I'm not certain.

Ciao.