And if that's what you have in mind, yeah, that's what you're all about, good luck movin' up because I'm movin' out.

I feel compelled to clarify because it's getting frustrating how many times people ask. I'm not. . .let's put it this way. Just because I wish a tree would fall on me doesn't mean I'm going to start dating a lumberjack. Make sense?

It's amazing to me how many new things I can find to organize in my apartment. I got so excited yesterday, during helping Carrie and Frank clean out their house, because I found a cord that looked like it would fit my camera exactly. The battery of this camera doesn't come out, so you have to plug it up to the computer. I've almost bought a new cord on eBay three different times now, but I keep thinking, no, as soon as you buy one, you're going to find your old one, and then you're going to be pissed. So when I found this cord, I was thrilled beyond all belief. Finally, I said to myself, you will be able to videotape the thoughts you feel you should share with the world, because blogging just isn't enough. The world needs to see you in technicolor motion!

Just now, when I retrieved the cord from the car, I discovered that no, it does not fit. It's ever so slightly too big. So I'm still camera-with-microphone-less. And that makes me sad.

I have also discovered, for those of you keeping track, a new allergy. Along with dust, pollen, most cats and some dogs, add "feather pillows" to the list. I'd taken two from Carrie and Frank's, and couldn't figure out why my throat was closing up and I was sneezing all over everything. Removing the pillows from my room and, ultimately, my house cleared up the problem nicely.

I took out my spring and summer clothes today. I left a couple of sweaters in my closet, in case we have another weird and random frigid cold snap, along with a hoodie or two and my lighter jackets. But generally, the lighter stuff, I can layer if I need to. Or wear a jacket. I got rid of some stuff (it's going to the yard sale) and was pleasantly surprised to find that some of my clothes, dresses especially, fit me better than they did last year. Some of it was too big, and I just went ahead and got rid of it. I was also pleasantly surprised to find three pairs of shoes in the container. They're all sandal-y wedges, so that's probably why I'd put them up for the winter. You don't want to be tromping through five inches of snow in sandal-y wedges.

So, I made a recipe today that I've been wanting to try for months called Chicken Loredo. It was. . .I don't want to say I was disappointed, but I kind of was. Don't get me wrong; it's delicious. But something about the way it looked really bothered me. I had in mind more of a casserole-solidity to it, but it's more like a spread. Like, I could see putting it over chips and calling it Chicken Loredo Nachos, which is what I may end up doing. I did my usual thing of substituting things to make it (in my opinion, of course) better. I traded Velveeta for Pepperjack Velveeta and pinto beans for black beans, both because I don't really like pinto beans and also because I had a can of black beans in my cabinet. A can of frijoles negros, if you will. Because that sounds sexier than "black beans."

Anyway, if you're looking for a way to clear your sinuses, I would highly recommend the Pepperjack Velveeta. It almost killed me. And by that, I mean it was amazing. This dish has quite a bit of kick to it, between that and the tomatoes with chilis and. . .there's something else that makes it kicky, but I can't remember what it was. But yes. It had that kind of heat to it I like in dishes, the kind that makes you take a swig of water after every other bite, but that keeps you eating it. But I definitely think I'm going to get some tortilla chips to eat with this stuff. Also, something that bothered me about it was the fact that the cheese wasn't evenly melted. You're supposed to cut the Velveeta into "thick chunks," but all that happens there is that you get chunks of cheese. Or, "cheese." It's just not aesthetically pleasing. But now I have another. . .4 meals or so this week.

Got a job interview Tuesday. Not going to go too much into it, but it's there.

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.

I know it's mad, but if I go to hell will you come with me or just leave?

Ladies and gentlemen. . .I have a shoe problem.

I hate that I'm so stereotypically female that I love shoes as much as I do. But they're fun.

I went to Asheville this evening because I was a little stressed out and I wanted to drive, but I didn't want to drive aimlessly. I was going to go to Target, but then I saw that the mall was right there, so I stopped in there. I went in through the JC Penney entrance and saw, as I walked in, the shoe section.

I never had a chance.

The thing is, though, I'm smart about my stupid addiction. I have a certain amount of money that I absolutely will not go over when it comes to shoes. I buy 90% of my shoes on sale. I only went to the clearance rack, because it's not like I'm rolling in money. All of the shoes on the rack were $7.97. I bought 2 pairs:

I may be in love. And even better, the original price for both pairs was $50 and I got them both for less than $18 total.

The thing I don't understand is why I insist on heels. I'm 5'9 (well, 5'8.75) and whenever I put on heels, I'm probably at least 6 feet tall. But even when I wear shoes that aren't dressy (like the ones on the left) I insist on chunky heels.

While I'm sharing shoes, I'll put up pictures of the 2 pairs I bought when I visited Ashley in South Carolina. (I'm aware that most people most likely don't care what kinds of shoes I buy, but it's for posterity.)

Awesome. When I was with Ashley and I found the pink pair, she said she'd call my best friend and tattle on me if I didn't buy them. And then, that night, I wore them to dinner. We dressed up and went out and it was pretty cool. I wish I had a date I was excited about so I could dress up and be girly.

(Note: I didn't say "I wish I had a date" because then people could rightly say, "But you DID have a date and you cancelled it to go to a football game.")

Short story about Biltmore house.

Carrie and I met up with Carrie's sister (my cousin) Ginny and a few of her friends and we went to a wine tasting.

The guy was checking our IDs. Ginny didn't have hers but she talked the guy into letting her in anyway. She's. . .I don't know. 28? She has a 2-year-old, although that doesn't mean much these days and especially around this area.

Anyway, the guy got to me and he said, "I'm definitely going to need to see your ID. You're the youngest one in this group, aren't you?"

Now, I was, but only by a few months. Carrie turned 24 last month, and I'll be 24 next month. I wasn't aware I looked that young. I should be thankful, I guess, but I also happen to know why a lot of people I try to interview don't take me seriously. Because I look so young, like I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing. I'm an editor for crying out loud.

When I was talking to OnlineDateGuy, he said something like, "So, you're all on your own, you've got a steady job, and you're not even 24 yet?" like it was a big deal. Which, I guess, it is.

Basically, I'm a rock star.

She wants a car that will get her there. She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen. She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler La Baron.

Happy Sunday everyone. In a little more than 24 hours, I have to go home, and I'm not pleased about that fact.

We went to the beach today. I think it's interesting how I forget how much I freaking love the beach until I'm there and I'm like WHOOO!!! BEACH!!!! And then I forget again. Until the next time I go.

I've spent entirely too much money since I've been here. Call it retail therapy. But I've gotten some fabulous, fabulous shoes.

I don't want to go home. I'm pretty sure you've deduced that, but really? It's almost painful how much I don't want to go home. I like it here. Maybe because it's not there, I don't know.

We went to Savannah yesterday, and it was ridiculously cool. I don't know that I've ever actually stopped in Georgia. I know I've been though it, on the way to Florida, but I don't think I've ever actually been anywhere there, except maybe a rest area. It was humid, but it was so. . .alive. I know I live in a tourist town, so there are people from Florida meandering around all the time, but most of the people in the area in which I live are old. Sure, there were old people in Savannah, but it was a younger crowd. The next place in which I live needs a higher percentage of a younger demographic. It's a little frustrating sometimes, because there really and truly aren't a lot of people my age where I live. I'd like people that can relate to me more. Maybe without kids. Because although I'm fond of my friends with children, I can't relate to my friends with children. Because I don't. . .have children.

Random little vent here that no one except my twin in PA will get. . .I take part in this message board, and I have for quite a while. I actually got banned from it a couple of years ago, but I managed to rejoin, and I've behaved myself more or less since then. Anyway, there's this girl on there that absolutely drives me crazy. I don't know exactly why she drives me so crazy, but I don't think the other board regulars are too fond of her either. Anyway, she made this post the other day (or maybe it was today?) talking about what a klutz she is. She ended it saying something like, "Someone ask me about the incident with the sliding door in Florida. Because I'll tell you."

My question here is, why doesn't she just tell the story? I'm really, really, really hoping no one asks her for the story. Because I'm mean, I guess.

If not for the fact that I've already decided that my Next Big Move will most assuredly take me farther north, I'd consider living in this area. Although, the thought of hurricanes freaks me out, too. Also, it's humid.

But it's really pretty and higher class than the area in which I live. My town is. . .well, you've got your elite that have nice houses on the side of big mountains, but in general, it's not a particularly prosperous area. And it shows.

So we'll be heading out tonight (I'm going to wear a pair of my new shoes!) and see what we can come across. Maybe I'll go down to Parris Island and try to pick up a Marine or two.

Actually, no. My brother's a Marine, and I don't think I'd date one.