Observations of Others

Most of the time, I am pretty ambivalent about the unsolicited opinions of others. Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate good criticism as a platform for improvement, and I like feedback. But some recent comments just made me pause...and laugh.

Friday was a fun day for my department. We were all in the office early so that that we could end at noon and go on a group scavenger hunt around Durham. I am a morning person, so the earlier in the day, the better. Well, some of my employees are not used to seeing me first thing in the morning and were a little unprepared for my energy level. I was talking to a couple people, when one of my managers just looks at me in shock and says, "You are a Tigger, and you so need to take it down to at least an Eeyore level". This is one I want to use again and again.

Later that day the scavenger hunt facilitator made a silly comment about me, and a coworker near me looks at him and says, "Oh no you didn't! You don't mess with the Sarah! No you don't". Apparently my Zohan alter ego has quite the reputation in the office.

A couple weeks back someone called me "fat". I acknowledge that during several points in my life this would have been a justifiable perception. I have never stressed about my weight, but I have certainly been heavier than I prefer. But now? Since August I have lost about 20 pounds and have been working out at least four times a week. I no longer have clothes that fit and I have coworkers demanding me to STOP LOSING WEIGHT. So for someone to call me fat NOW? I really, really need to just laugh this one off.

It was raining last Tuesday so Michael and I ran inside around the track, rather than along our typical outdoor route. The track sits above the basketball courts, which is also where I play volleyball. As we were rounding a turn, I could see some of our players setting up the nets so I waved down to them. After about 2.5 miles, Michael left and I went down to the courts to play. During one of our breaks, a fellow player came up to me and said, "I knew it. I knew you were a runner. I noticed last week that you have the legs of a runner". That is definitely something that no one has ever said to me before. This is an observation I want to hold onto. This one made me laugh, and more importantly, it made me smile.

Sins of the Father

I have inherited many things from my father....some amazing qualities, and some that prove more challenging. More importantly though, I have learned a lot from my dad. And most of these things I have demonstrated to be productive, inspiring and instrumental in my success as an adult. And that includes his teachings about beer.

Several of our friends and my coworkers volunteered last Saturday at the World Beer Festival in Durham. Although I still wasn't feeling well, the day was quite fun. My friend Valerie and I decided to be beer pourers, which basically meant that we set up a booth with buckets, ice and beer, and then poured 2 ounces of said beer into many, many, many small glasses.


When asked which beer booth we wanted to volunteer at, I didn't have to consider for very long. Where am I from again? Oh yeah, Wisconsin. What beer does my dad really like? That would be Leinenkugels. Where are they from? BRING IT ON, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.


Leinie's must have known that a local girl was working their table because they didn't even send a rep down to tell us about the beer, educate us on the seasonal brews, or provide any information what-so-ever about the product or the company. No problem, I can handle this. And handle it we did. I ended up talking to many Wisconsinites who wanted to trade tales about our happy state and all the things (Leinies included) that they cannot procure in abundance in NC. It didn't take long for Valerie to start lying and say that she too failed from cheese land. Apparently when you are drunk, a Southern accent sounds remarkably similar to my native tongue.

Each session of the festival lasts 4 hours and ours started at noon. The first hour is filled with a variety of people - those that just want to drink, those that are particular about what they try, and those that are seriously there to taste and score the selections. By the second hour, the inebriation sets in. By the third, EVERYONE is drunk. At the fourth, people no longer care what they are drinking as long as they believe there is alcohol in it. At this point it was very clear we were running out of beer, and I was a little worried that people were going to riot our little table.

Thankfully one of the guys at the booth next to us thought we were cute and really had a thing for redheads. That meant he firmly positioned himself between Valerie and I, and kept our tubs iced down and full of cold beer. Keep in mind that I don't know if we could have kept the masses happy without him. We ended up running out of all but one beer with an hour still to go, and ALL beer 30 minutes later. And the drunks kept coming.

All told, we opened 192 bottles and poured over a 1000 two-ounce tastes. All while fending off lots of leering drunks who did not mind that I am married or Valerie has a boyfriend. My favorite remains the distinguished gentleman that owns a local pizza place and was easily the age of my dad. He came around at least four times to just stand, look at me, and then remind me to "save him a slow dance". It is no wonder that by 4p, I was tired, still laughing, and needing a drink.