Yours Truly

Bonjour! Comment etes-vous? Je m'appelle Sarah.

And that's about the extent of two years of college-level french . . . Oh and "J'aime du fromage."

Guess.

•  When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be a mermaid . . . or a prodigy . . . I'm still hoping for that mermaid thing to work out.
• Mustard and I are mortal enemies
• I'm just slightly obsessed with squid and octopi. I think they are just the most awesome and outrageous creatures. In fact, if my soul were an animal, it would be a flapjack octopus. 
• I've been dubbed a real-life "Anne Shirley."
• Double negatives and the improper use of "your," "to," and "there" drive me batty.
• I left my heart in London.
• I'm a natural redhead and have never dyed my hair, though I would really REALLY love to dye it bright blue. 
• My perfect day includes either the beach, kayaking, exploring a wooded trail, OR, if I can't get out, I'll take a book, a furball, and a cup of tea any day.   
  
  
  Still don't know me well enough? Try THIS                           

This is Chris aka "the hubs"

• Chris wanted to grow up to be Indiana Jones.
• His arch nemesis is the cucumber.
• He plays the guitar, the didgeridoo, and any instrument he can get his hands on  . . .and most video games.
• Friends have knighted him a living "Odd Thomas."
• He can always one-up any of my "witty" comebacks.
• He has spidey senses. For real. The man can smell scents I didn't know existed.  
•  He raised a pet quail from an egg and named her Mo. She was awesome.
• Chris's perfect day includes either hiking, kayaking, fossiling, or a day of uninterrupted gaming with lots of meat and orange milano cookies. 

And introducing: Ronan Oliver aka "the cub"

• Ronan was born eight weeks early due to my having a sudden and severe case of preeclampsia
• He spent six weeks in the NICU before coming home on New Years Eve 2014
• He loves sunlight, listening to Chris whistle and play guitar, walks in his stroller, sticking his entire fist in his mouth (well, sticking everything in his mouth), all the food, trying to catch the cats, exploring all the places, and lots of snuggles
• We think he's kind of the cutest little dude ever.
  But we're just the TINIEST bit biased.

Put us together? 

And we're well . . . us . . . 

I met Chris when I was fifteen--he was my best friend's "cool" older brother who loved all the same random, nerdy things that I did, and I was instantly smitten.
Seriously, I was in deep smit.
Turns out, he was, surprisingly, crushing on me at the same time. 
Due to mutual shyness, it just took us both four years to admit it.
When we did, it was an epic moment of jubilee.

(You can read our love story--a work in progress--HERE)

Photo by Cory Callahan

After three fun-filled years of couplehood and my college graduation, Chris took me to the beach for my birthday on March 15th, 2009. We watched a shuttle launch glowing in the sunset, and then he went down on one knee.

Perfection.
Seven months later--on October 3, 2009--I was wearing his name beside mine.
Best. Decision. EVER.

Photo by Isaiah Eyre

Four and half years after our wedding day and one year after our previous miscarriage, we found out we were pregnant and learned it would be a high risk pregnancy. Seven months of giving myself shots in the stomach, puking, and feeling as energized as a glob of mucus resulted in both severe preeclampsia and the sudden delivery of our little boy eight weeks before his due date.
He is a champion, folks, for really reals.

We dream of spending our lives sailing the world in a pirate ship or exploring New Zealand and the Pacific Northwest.
We are huge fans of Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Mark Twain, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
We want to live in the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse or a Hobbit Hole . . . or both . . . We've decided to call it the Mead Hall.  You know, if we're ever billionaires or anything . . . 
 Chris and I communicate in a variety of Futurama, Homestar Runner, and Star Wars quotes.
We're uber nerds.
Case and Point: I just used the word "uber."

And that's the way the cookie crumbles . . .