A Collection of Confessions

• Sometimes, I cook just to clean out the fridge.
  For instance: last night, I made a mixed veggie and chicken sausage stir-fry with no recipe or direction except that-- a) we wanted oodles of veggies and b) if I didn't use it then, it would probably go bad, get thrown out, and there goes much needed cash down the drain. So I chopped up red peppers, broccoli, green onions, garlic, squash, zucchini, mushrooms, and tiny bit of chicken sausage, added some olive oil and grated parmesan, and voila! A yummy Dinner and a clean fridge. Two birds, one stone. Win win.
• I am so excited about the pup we will be bringing home, hopefully, in late fall. But I still have my moments of severe indecision, panic, questions, blah blah blah. So excited though and so ready to learn everything I can learn to be a good pet owner.  But my poor little mind at the mindless desk job . . . too much thinking, peeps. Way. Too. Much. Thinking. Before you know it, I'll start to question my age and name (cause, you know, I feel about 22, maybe, and more like a Pete than 24-year-old Sarah). See? This could be very, very bad.
• Good golly, if I'm like this about a DOG, what will I be like when I'm pregnant with a HUMAN???? O.O Now there's a frightening thought.
• I've been drinking nothing but water for a week and I feel fabulous. 
• On that same note, my new addictive snack are baby carrots and celery sticks with Sabra Hummus's single serving packets. Keeps me going through the work day. So. Good.
• Hm, I suddenly feel like a foodie. Do I sound like a foodie? 
• Decorating inspiration rampage. It is ON. Unfortunately, I have nothing to decorate, so we're talking strictly mind space, here. And, you know, all this thought and trouble, and it may be totally unimpressive and disappointing. We shall see. But, if you will: Paint colors. Your favorites and why. GO. 
• In archiving more old newsletters today, I found an article about Chris and just about went ballistic in the tomb of silence that is my cubicle. Why? a) it's my hubs. b) it's about a sixteen-year-old version of my hubs. That's right, rewind the clock twelve years. No, there were no pictures, just a snippet saying he was the first fifth generation company descendant to work there. It was a summer job sorting tractor screws and whatnot. He said he wanted to travel and be an archeologist/paleontologist. Good golly, I want to pinch his cheeks.
  And yes, I totally photocopied it and brought it home.