Big Giant Band Aids, Please

In the interest of job security, I will bite my tongue and let Photoshop speak on my behalf.

These are sad times in television news.

I wish my parted colleagues the very best, and trust God's grace to be sufficient in the difficult times ahead.

I love you all. You will be greatly, tremendously missed.

Husband

Black man. Sexy man. My man.

Strong arms. Pretty smile. Bubble butt.

Tease me. Squeeze me. Please me.

Makes me laugh. Let's me cry.

Texts.

Ridiculous messages.

That I keep. Forever.

Flirty eyes. Fire flies. Dance. Like we do - to music he picks for me.

Closes the blinds. Rolls his eyes. Hears me sigh.

All. The. Time.

He sleeps. Beautifully. But not enough.

Best friend. True love.

He's the iron -- that sharpens me.

Snuggle him. Cuddle him. Love him.

Forever.

New Hair: RESULTS!

You voted (thank you) and the results are in! The winner of my fabulous new hair is ..... drum roll please ..... Option E!

Figures.

Of course the majority of you choose the only option that requires me to walk around with a fan blowing in my face 24-7. And since that really could become quite cumbersome, I decided to go with a different look altogether. See for yourself....


Hawt, huh? My darling husband thinks it looks the same, but whatev. I washed it this morning, turned on the blow dryer for a couple of minutes and walked out the door. Not too shabby for wash-and-go hair!

Thanks to Meagan Kelleher and InStyle.com for helping create this interactive project. And thanks to YOU for voting -- whether on FB, Twitter, or here! Y'all rock. Thanks. xo!

Option A:

Option B:

Option C:Option D:

Option E:

Option F:

Option G:

Roadside Treasures

Never in a million years would I choose to high tail it out the door and head to the interstate with a camera in hand just to hang out along the shoulder. But that's exactly what I did yesterday--for an assignment.

I was there to catch motorcycle riders making the cross-country trek for "Ride to the Wall." Their destination: the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC. And I was to capture the moment they passed through Kansas City.

Despite the fact that I went east instead of west and had to turn around, I was 45 minutes early. That meant I had 45 minutes to look like a skinny little hitchhiker with truckers driving by blaring their horns.

It was fun.

While I waited, I wandered. And found treasures you can only find alongside the road if you really look...

But now what I want to know, is how did these items fall out of a car traveling 70 mph and end up alongside the road? I also want to know what's flown out my car window without me knowing...

Laid Off Update

We've all seen them: men and women standing on street corners in tattered clothes holding a dirty sign with even dirtier hands. They all want money.

But lately I've noticed more and more people who are dressed like me--like you--out there on street corners holding signs. Their hands, faces, and clothes are clean, save for the sweat on their brow and the dark cloud of embarrassment hanging above them.

They are working people who've been laid off.

I stopped to talk to a gentleman the other day who was standing on the corner outside a busy Walmart. He was in his fifties or sixties. He wore nice jeans, a red polo, and a baseball cap. In his hand was the sign you see pictured above. At his feet were a McDonald's bag and food donations shoppers had stopped to give him.

He said he'd been laid off from a printing company in Kansas City and hadn't been able to find work. I told him I was a journalist at a local television station and was interested in his story. He took a step back like most people do when you tell them you're a journalist, but then he said, "Then you can understand why this might be so embarrassing for me."

And then my heart broke into a million more pieces.

I don't know how to create jobs. I don't know how to prevent layoffs. I don't know how to fix the economy.

But I can blog. And still somehow, that seems infinitely useless in times like this.

Update: This story inspired a closer look at panhandling in Kansas City during these tough economic times. FOX 4's Dave Froehlich reported on another man who's found himself panhandling and the organization dedicated to helping those who've been pushed to the brink of seeking donations.

Read Dave's story here.

OMG!

So I get to work this morning in my typical Monday morning mood: groggy, cranky, crabby.

My key card won't work. It's buried at the bottom of the black abyss that is my purse. It's still dark outside and I'm running a few minutes behind. As usual.

I finally wrangle my key card free and mange to make my way into the building. Mark Alford is there, coffee cup in hand, headed for a refill.

"Congratulations!" he says.

My voice still froggy, I wipe sleep from my eyes, and grumble, "For what?"

"You made Tony's KC," he says.

My first thought is that the well-known Kansas City breaking news blogger picked up the story I posted yesterday on fox4kc.com about the passing of David Cook's brother.

Mark says, "No, no, no. You did. Your blog."

ME? What? I made Tony's KC?

I'm awake now. My feet step, step, step up the stairs. At my desk, I throw my stuff down and pounce on my computer. And lo and behold ...

Tony has posted this picture with a blurb about me. A good blurb. A blurb that made me smile.


And who doesn't like smiling on a Monday morning?

Thanks, Tony. Let's just hope I stay in your good graces.

Mucus

After 10 days of hacking up green mucus, I finally went to the doctor.

And?

He says I have Swine Flu.

Okay, not really. But he did tell me what I already knew: I have a cold. A respiratory infection, in fact. A bad one. One that sucks all the energy out of you and leaves you with nothing but snotty wet tissues.

I never knew mucus could come in so many different shades of green. And yellow. Red even. It's like Christmas in my nose. And the fire in my throat? I swear, I can roast Chestnuts back there. Shall we sing a Christmas carol? In April?

I think not.

It's likely I'd choke on my own coughing. You know the kind - those fits of dry coughing where you literally have no control. By the end, you're hunched over, hands on knees, eyes watering, while your body convulses from lack of oxygen. Yeah. That kind.

Maybe it's punishment for not having blogged in such a long time. One of my blogger BFFs, Gary, posted a comment in the Twitter post below.

He said: "Come home Sarah... stop your twittering and come home..."

And I?

I almost cried. Of course, I'm convinced the emotions in my eyes were induced by the 99.4 fever I'm currently running, but whatev. I know I've become addicted to Twitter. The first step is admission. And I'm admitting:

Hello. My name is Sarah, and I'm a Twitterholic.

For the 24 esteemed people who follow my blog, allow me to apologize. I'm sorry I have neglected you. And your blogs. You know we're like third-grade BFFs - we pick up just where we left off.

Right? I hope so!

Here's to you, my cyber pals. You know I love ya, with my snotty nose and all. xo!

Twitter!

This is what has consumed my life for the past several weeks...



And here's what you didn't see in the story ... a more genuine look at Sarah J Clark. :)

Found

So.

I found my diamond. I FOUND MY DIAMOND!

Clearly, miracles really do happen.

And guess what I was doing when I found it. Guess!

Vacuuming. AHHH!

Who knew it was at home? I was convinced I lost it at work. CONVINCED. I didn't even bother looking at home. Instead, I was on my hands and knees at work scouring the floor around my desk. For days.

Then on Friday, I was home vacuuming, preparing for the husband to return so we could hustle over to the jewelers to consider our options. New diamond? New ring? New nothing?

While vacuuming I had this funny feeling not to vacuum my bedroom. God works in mysterious ways, folks. This funny feeling lasted until I turned the vacuum off and wandered into my bedroom.

And there, on the floor, a sparkle caught my eye. And I knew. I just KNEW what it was. 

After days of searching, I was like, 'Oh, hello diamond laying in the middle of my bedroom floor. How have you been these last few days?'

It just lay there all sparkly and bright and smiling like it was the champion of hide-and-go-seek.

I plucked it up and went to the jewelers with the husband. 

Amazing.

It cost the husband only $60 to have the head replaced. And? It's clean. Like bran-spanking-new clean. 

I love my diamond. And I love the man who gave it to me ... and payed to have it placed back on my finger. :)

Greeeeeen!

HAPPY ST.PATRICK'S DAY! :o)