My brain is dead. I just sat (and sat some more) at this here computer, re-computerizing the photos section of this site, and henceforth killing my brain cells as one coding problem plagued me after another. But now it is over (the coding part at least), and I am quite happy with the results.

However, if I have learned anything during this experience (aside from retarded amounts of coma-inducing XML), it is this: always embed your captions into your file info. I didn’t have captions on my previous photo section because their placement looked awkward. Now, with the new system, I have more control, and I wanted them back. But well, it was pretty impossible to find a lot of my newspaper captions… because I am dumb and did not embed them into the file info. At my last job, I simply had to write the captions down on paper and hand them to whoever types them into the computer (and yes, a mess if they lost the piece of paper). And that is all I did. I thought I saved hard copies of editions that had photos I liked, but when I searched my storage shed in the backyard, I found that I didn’t save too many copies at all (that may be because the printing press at that paper made every edition worth throwing away). And so, without the captions, I try to remember as much as I can, which is enough in most cases. Some photos I’m at a complete loss for. I had to take out some photos. The internet helps in some cases, but not many. I looked up some old sports brackets, rosters, etc. I dug up info for photos I had no knowledge of before. And thank god, there was one very important photo that I was smart enough to email the names to myself when I quit my job. Of course, I didn’t remember that until like half an hour after I began my epic quest to find the names in a stack of papers. I have all my notepads, every single one of them, from forever, but I’d rather shoot myself before I try to dig through 20,000 names, a thousand of which probably have the note “blue shirt” next to them.

So anyway, if you check out the humans and sports sections and are wondering why there are some captions with a missing name, or a whole missing caption, this is why. It’s not that I’m a bad journalist who forgot to get them, it’s that I’m a bad journalist that didn’t archive her photos properly.

Nowadays, all my critter photos are renamed to the animal’s names within a few hours of taking them, so that’s all the info I really need to know. Most of my old work photos (except the last job of course) have the file info embedded, but are buried on totally unorganized CDs that I will try to get to when my brain isn’t so fried. And I will probably do more internet research later in the week to get the remaining sports captions. There are a few photos that I remember where I took them and can email someone there, and I just may do that a year or two later. You non-photographers are probably wondering what the big deal is, but other photographers will understand. I’m not even sure why I care so much (I don’t even work at newspapers anymore), but well, I just do… and I must have the captions. The end.

Moral of the story: photographers, be not stupid like me. Always embed your captions! ALWAYS!

Yee-haw.

I woke up this morning to find a photo of mine on the National Geographic website. I screamed. This totally beats my previous high-point of having this blog on CNN.com. Unfortunately, my scream scared my cat, who had her paw on my neck, which then tugged away quickly, ruining the brand new gold chain my mother got me for my birthday. But really, a gold chain is nothing compared to National Geographic, and the scream was well worth its price in gold.

The cat needed blood work done today, so she came to work with me. As a result, instead of only dogs licking my feet under my desk, I also had my darling kitty shedding her hair all over my computer screen. It was glorious. The dogs are on vacation for a week starting tomorrow, so the next week will become “bring your cat to work day week” for me.

Then, this afternoon, I am called over to birds to take some photos. When I arrive, I am really unhappy about the photo they have called me over to take… a photo of a horrible, selfish woman potentially reversing everything we have spent months working for. And well, then it turns out it was all a ruse to get me over there… for a surprise birthday party and ice cream cake. Mmmm, mmmm! As happy as the party made me, I was more happy that that awful woman wasn’t there.

Upon arriving back at my office, melting cake left-overs in hand, Miss Molly passes me the new Dogtown book… my very first book. Of course, not all the photos are mine, but many are and I am absolutely thrilled to be able to add books to the list of items containing my photos.

I then come home and treat myself to a Totino’s Party Pizza. It was only fitting.

Other good birthday news include the fact that work is paying $650 of my $850 rent this month because the new tiling job on the house I was supposed to move into this weekend won’t be done for another month now. Also, my sick bird (whose health took a nosedive the other day and even required a late-night emergency visit from the vet) has pepped up and is looking good. My birds have passed their average expiration date by over ten years and I hope to make it twenty.

Ah yes, life is good.

So this weekend, I voyaged up to Park City for the first time since December to go to prom and to pay homage to the decade of my birth - the 80s.

I spent my weekend hotspringing, getting bombed (literally, by Heber high school hick-punks), socializing, recycling (yes, I brought my recycling all the way up there, but that’s because St. George’s recycling center blows), and I even got to see the neurotic dog that I had to say goodbye to when I moved. Of course though, the main event was the 80s prom.

The Park City 80s Spring Prom is really just an excuse to dress up in horrible clothes and get drunk, but for me it was a chance to see old friends (and maybe drink a little since I’ve been dry as the desert since I moved here in November). More importantly though, I went because I never went to prom. I was a badass in high school (or at least I thought I was at the time), and prom was definitely not my scene. I was too cool. But you’re never too cool for 80s Prom. Especially when it’s themed “80s Prom Goes to Texas.” Yee-haw!

I mentioned last week that I was looking for a tacky prom dress. Specifically, I was looking for a tacky western prom dress. I got this beast for $5 at the thrift shop next door. I had the belt, boots, and hat already so luckily I didn’t have to pour my bank account into this hideous outfit.

Before I headed north to the prom that I would grace with this dress’s presence, Miss Molly and I had a photoshoot showcasing the glorious long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder, black velvet dress. Here are some of the results… the PG-rated ones (you’ll have to see the PG-13 ones here, because well, I work with animals and we really can’t associate me with the ‘B’ word on this blog… or anywhere).

Dammit cat.

At 2 a.m. on April 28th, 2002, I cut my hair off in my bathroom. I had been at a bonfire with friends that night and there was a girl there whose hair I thought resembled mine too much. She was a rotten creature and I didn’t want any part of me to resemble any part of her. So I chopped off the hair. Way off. I cut off over a foot. True story.

Ever since starting my new job, my desire to chop my hair off again has grown exponentially. It is my job to romp around in dirt, get slobbered on by dogs, hang out with incontinent cats, and get crapped on by birds. And because of this, I have a hard time bringing myself to do my hair nice and pretty like I used to. Washing it, drying it, it’s all become a chore. So tonight as I contemplated chopping off my hair like I have so many times before, I realized that yes, I really do love my hair, but it’s just hair. And so without a second thought, I went in the bathroom and emptied my locks into the sink.

Chop. Chop. Chop. About ten inches total.

I really love my hair long, but more than anything, I think I love that other people love it even more. And that’s what’s been keeping me hanging on to it. But that’s a stupid reason. There were so many more reasons to chop it. Like the fact that I live in the desert and come summer, my hair would become my worst enemy. Or the fact that it takes forever to dry. Is straight and boring and takes forever if I want to curl it. Is always in snarls after showering. Was getting so long it was approaching stringy. And so on. I do think I look better with it long, but I needed a change, and if I really want it back (which I don’t), it’ll grow back.

In honor of this heart-warming day, Miss Molly and I made holiday cookies last night. To ensure a romantic holiday, be sure to whisper these sweet nothings into your lover’s ear.

Anyone who has ever been shopping with me knows my distaste for plastic bags. I could rant for hours (and hours) about why people should boycott plastic bags. So it pleases me to no end to hear that China has now banned them. If only the United States would follow suit!

I was first introduced to the plastic-bagless lifestyle in high school as an exchange student in Germany. They make you bring your own canvas bags, or buy them there. I was awestruck at what a genius idea it was. Eight years later, I am still using one of those German bags I got at a supermarket in Essen. Now, if I continue to use all my canvas bags for the next eight years, just think of how many plastic bags I am saving myself. How many plastic bags do you think you use in a month? Every time you buy anything, it is nearly always placed in a plastic bag, no matter how big or small, no matter one item or twenty. Every time you go to the grocery store, baggers on average put about five things per bag. You can easily end up with five plastic bags “full” of things that could easily fit in just one large canvas bag. The worst is when they mindlessly put bags inside of bags… like when you buy just one item, something that itself is a bag (say apples or potatoes) and they proceed to put it in a bag. Or when something as tiny as a single rented DVD warrants an entire bag, because god forbid you have to carry a DVD without a handle.

I realize that people just don’t care that millions of pounds of waste could be avoided by limiting their use, but whether or not you care about the environment, you should use canvas bags if only because they are so much stronger, and much less painful to carry when heavy.

A few days ago, as I was packing up to head home from the Black Hills, my mom handed me a plastic bag of various food items she didn’t want. Some yogurt, tofu, etc. I grabbed the bag and turned to walk away. “Oh, this too,” she added, handing me a can of lentil soup. And I thought to myself, “That’ll come in handy.”

As I spooned it into my mouth this morning, I thought back on the past year… the good, the bad, the ugly. And I came to the conclusion that despite all its tricks and hiccups, 2007 is indeed a year for the record books… just in quieter, more introspective ways that most years. 2007 was a reality check, and for that, I am forever grateful to the lentils for their potential role in teaching me the lessons I have learned this year. But enough about 2007, it’s over.

It’s 2008 that’s on my mind now. And the new year is off to an incredible start… a midnight drive through Zion, star gazing from the sand dunes (the sky out here is unlike anywhere), awaking to the sound of my neighbor belting along (at the top of his lungs… in his very tenor voice) to girly dance music through the walls, and getting to talk to my favorite person. But tomorrow is when the real fun begins, when I start my new job. New year, new job, new adventures, new opportunities. Are the lentils responsible for any of this?… I couldn’t tell you. But they sure do taste good.

I am so incredibly stoked to have my own kitchen again. So stoked that while in Minnesota, I bought five cookbooks. Yes, five (but they were each under ten bucks). Lunch today was soup. Homemade chickpea and spinach soup with garlic. It is an improvisation of a recipe in one of the cookbooks. I would like to be able to follow recipes, but not if I have to spend an arm and a leg on some the spices they call for. I had to go without five of the ingredients, but I made it work. And I made it much healthier. Rather than using a bucket of heavy cream and tahini, I used non-fat yogurt. I figure if you mix cream with tahini you probably get the tanginess of plain yogurt… so I used yogurt. And it is deeeeelicious.

Next on the recipe to-do list is peanut and tofu cutlets, thai chili corn fritters, and experimenting with eggplant. I have never been very good at preparing eggplant, but I hope to change this. Mmmmm! I love my kitchen.

Dear Santa,

I know it is last minute, but as you make your rounds tonight, I would appreciate it if I could be on your list of stops. Since we don’t really do Christmas in my family, I will have no presents to open in the morning unless you stop by. I’m visiting my mom, so I’m not at your listed address for me, but if you find yourself flying above Custer State Park (perhaps your reindeer would like to catch up with some pronghorns), please stop by our place. We have solar lights that could serve as an airstrip for you to land safely (just don’t land in the pond, or on top of the horses). Also, maybe use the side door since the woodstove might be kind of hard for you to get out of. We don’t have any cookies, but if you know where my stepdad’s hidden chocolate stash is, feel free to eat as your heart desires.

Anyway, onto the gifts. I would like the books This I Believe, The Body Has a Mind of its Own, and Listening Is an Act of Love. I would also like the Winged Migration DVD, the NPR Driveway Moments Collection (a six-CD set), the soundtrack to the movie Once, and a small digital voice recorder. I was also wondering if your elves could construct a 2.8 17-55 lens that fits on a Mark II, seeing as Canon has failed to do so. And I would like a plethora of houseplants. By no means do you need to bring me all of these, but I’d like to remind you how very, very good I have been this year. Please keep me in mind as you travel over the Black Hills. We will leave out some hay for Rudolph and company.

Sincerely,
Sarah

PS: I would also really appreciate it if you could leave a lump of coal for Senator Norm Coleman of Minnesota.

When I first left Minnesota, it was hard for me to go. I loved my home state, and I saw myself living there forever. Once I moved west though, everything changed. I knew I could never go back. What I once considered temporary became permanent. The west was best. It seemed Minnesota had nothing on it. But perhaps that wasn’t entirely the case. Minnesota does have its perks. It’s home to Minnesota Public Radio, second only to National Public Radio in size and awesomeness. We bred such greats as Bob Dylan, Garrison Keillor, Mary Tyler Moore, Prince, and Paul Wellstone. No stranger to big business, Target, Best Buy, and 3M call us home (though aside from the Post-It and Scotch tape, 3M can rot in hell in my book). Minnesota has an incredible music scene, a mouth-watering collection of ethnic restaurants (everything from Lebanese to Somali), and over 10,000 lakes. If shopping is your thing, we have the largest mall in America (though this is no bragging point if you ask me). And let’s not forget that we’re the setting of such Oscar-worthy films as Grumpy Old Men, Mallrats, and The Mighty Ducks. But at the top of its list of greats should perhaps be Minnesota’s incredible sunsets.

I’d forgotten what a sunset is supposed to look like until I returned to my homeland last week. I had only been driving in the state less than an hour, having just crossed the South Dakota border, when I realized what an incredible sight I was seeing. It was a sunset, like any other, but why was it so different than those in Utah? Why was the Minnesota sunset so vibrant, so outstanding, so noticeably different? I counted seven colors without a cloud in the sky. It started at red on the horizon, making its way to the blue of night in a space so small, even little mountains would block it. So that’s why the sunsets are so wonderful I realized… because Minnesota is so incredibly flat. I would normally consider this a hinderance in the state’s greatness, but perhaps it’s not. It’s what gives us these awe-inspiring sunsets. Beautiful as mountains may be, they force the sun to set much earlier than it actually does. Especially in Park City, nestled in the mountainside, the sun is gone long before it reaches the horizon. The town is shrouded in a blue shadow hours before the sun actually sets. The view might be better in Salt Lake, but the best colors, the ones right on the horizon, are still blocked by mountains… and filtered by smog. In rural Minnesota though, the colors are as pure as nature intended them. No work of the camera, of Photoshop, of smog… just all-natural, unadulterated Minnesota sunset.