Things I like.

I don't often recommend books unless someone specifically asks me to, but I just finished The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, and I have to say: if you have not read this book, read this book. It is absolutely stunning.

The other day, someone at work expressed surprise that I seemed to enjoy reading so much: "So, you just... read? For fun?" Um, yeah. I actually sort of look forward to my 30-minute commute, because rather than fighting traffic and getting stressed, I get to sit and read. (And maybe occasionally end up in Queens.) Which is all to say, I need more book recs. So if you can think of something I should read, let me know. I'll probably stop by a bookstore after work tomorrow (partial day, woohoo!).

Apropos of nothing, I recently got Quicken and started using it for the first time in my life, and it is like my new favorite thing. It takes my love of spreadsheets (no seriously, I love spreadsheets) and planning to the next level. It puts your expenses into a pie chart! It downloads information straight from your bank account! It tells you when to pay your bills! I am going to budget the crap out of EVERYTHING.

OMG!

My roommate saw Michael Phelps on 5th Avenue this morning. My mission is clear. Sarah, it's only a matter of time.

Flashback.

Most people in my office have music playing at their desks during the day. The guy a couple cubes down enjoys a sort of fusion of pop/punk/rock, while the girl who used to sit behind me preferred R&B. Brian, whose cube is next to mine, usually alternates between Howard Stern, Phillies games, and classic rock. And if I don't have my own music playing, I can still usually tune out the surrounding noise.

Yesterday, as I was going about my business, I suddenly felt a little subconscious thrill of excitement. As I tried to figure out what could be the cause of this reaction, I focused on the sound coming from Brian's speakers - it was the intro to "The Heart of Rock and Roll" by Huey Lewis and the News. Much like my Pavlovian response to Mannheim Steamroller, hearing this song caused a flashback to childhood glee, when my Dad would put it on for us kids to dance around to. I would be sitting in the family room or somewhere in my night gown, and from the living room there would suddenly come the deep, steady pulse of the heartbeat. The volume would be cranked up so you could hear it from pretty much anywhere in the house. The excitement it created was immense. We'd scramble into the living room from wherever we were, and jump and dance around in anticipation of that first huge swell of synthesizers that never failed to whip us into a frenzy.

I guess it proves Huey's thesis that, all these years later, "It's still that same old rock and roll music / That really, really drives 'em wild."

Honeymoon phase.

Did you ever get that feeling when you were in school, and there would be a holiday weekend, where you'd kind of forget about it for a little while, and then on Sunday night or something you'd suddenly remember that you had the day off and it was like a mini surprise party in your mind? That's how I feel, living in New York. Sometimes, when I'm sitting at my desk on a slow afternoon at work, or just watching TV in my apartment, I sort of forget that I live here.

And then I remember, and it is awesome.

TRAGEDY.

Okay, forget the mosquito-bite-on-the-toe fiasco. THIS is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go drown my sorrows in mass amounts of Ben & Jerry's and ample footage of shirtless Michael Phelps.

Two good things.

I came across this article - The Girl in the Window - yesterday, and it's one of the most incredible stories I've read in a while. Heartbreaking, but also full of hope. If you have a few minutes, it is very much worth a read.

Also, a HUGE shout-out to my sister Becca who just got accepted to the University of Utah nursing program! She has worked incredibly hard to get where she is, and to get accepted to a very competitive program. I have really admired her diligence and the passion with which she has pursued her goal. I know she will excel in her program and be an absolutely fantastic nurse. I am so proud of her, and if I hadn't been at work when she called with the news, I would have been screaming right along with her!

Downpour.

Saturday was supposed to be a beach day. But when I wake up and roll over and see the ominous gray skies outside my window, I think maybe that will not happen. So after eating breakfast and watching The Soup, I decide to go with the next best plan: seeing Mamma Mia and picking up my copy of Breaking Dawn.

Around noon, I get out of the subway a few blocks from the movie theatre that is conveniently located across the street from Barnes and Noble. It has started to sprinkle, and I congratulate myself on my good sense in putting on closed-toed flats instead of flip flops, despite the heat. I've also brought my umbrella with me. I am a genius.

Moments later, so suddenly that I think I must either be on the set of Lost or that God is mocking me, water is pouring from the sky. Civilians are running for shelter anywhere they can find it - under construction scaffolding, inside ATM vestibules - but I will not be deterred from my goal of an afternoon of mindless girliness. I soldier on, becoming soaked from the waist down (thank heavens my umbrella was there to keep my shoulders dry) and sloshing around in my stupid shoes. People are peering out from their havens, looking at me like I'm some sort of crazy person. Or a hero.

I stop at a crosswalk, willing the light to change. Barnes and Noble is just across the street now. As I wait, a man jogs up beside me in a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, probably having just come from the park. Normally I wouldn't notice, but we are almost the only people left on the street. He is soaked to the skin, and I am not in much better shape with my sad little umbrella. I look over and realize the man is Dennis Quaid. As the light changes, he smiles ruefully in a moment of sopping wet camaraderie and then jogs away.

By the time the movie is over, my clothes are dry and the sun is out, but my shoes are still moist and make little sloshing noises as I walk back to the subway. Stupid shoes. I bet Dennis doesn't have to put up with this crap.