Where you been at, dawg?

There’s this thing you disbelieve when you’re young — that time flies by and one day you realize that you intended to do something and suddenly it’s three months later and you’re not at all sure what happened. Hashtag: Time Keeps On Slipping Slipping Slipping Into The Future.

Turns out this is a thing that happens often enough to the casual blogger that I don’t have to blame it on incipient age — though I won’t deny that I stand at the threshold of my dotage. (I’m still reading those Regency-set novels — can you tell?)

Anyway, I’ll post again once something strikes me as “postable.” Someday.

Ban clowning.*

The next person who attempts to disparage my (assumed) eating habits had better do so in a way that is grammatically correct, because the phrase “eating healthy” is wrong unless the word “healthy” is followed by a noun.

Because adjectives don’t modify verbs, people.

The phrase you’re looking for is “eating healthily,” using the correct adverb form of the word. Or even “healthy eating,” because in that context “eating ” is a noun.

I don’t mean to be pedantic (except, of course, I really do), but this is basic grammar. Basic. And it’s true that I have also been shamed for being an “elitist” for my grammatical tirades, but there’s nothing wrong with using correct speech or good manners. Neither my grammar nor my manners are perfect, but I will always strive to correct these shortcomings.

If that makes me a monster, then fuck it. I’m a monster.

A monster who knows the difference between an adjective and an adverb.

*Title is unrelated to post, although as a coulrophobe, I really do support the ban of all clowning activities.

This is why I’m not Sherlock Holmes.

I’ve eaten at a specific restaurant in our neighborhood at least 100 times through the years (literally), and have always wondered where the stairs to the upper level were. They mainly use it as a banquet space, so I have never had occasion to see it, and I had never seen the stairs.

Today, after leaving the restroom, I finally noticed the glass front door next to the ladies’ restroom, clearly marked “stairs,” with a staircase also clearly visible behind.

Mystery solved.

Considering that I’ve used that restroom 25 times at a bare minimum and never noticed the staircase until today, you can imagine that my powers of observation are spotty at best.

It reminded me of that time in college when my best friend dyed her hair a completely different color and it took me six weeks to notice, despite seeing her every day.

I’ll never be Sherlock, that’s for sure.

My virtual cat obsession.


I’ve been playing a Japanese game called Neko Atsume (or maybe that’s one word? I’m not sure; it’s all in Japanese) where you lure cats into your virtual yard with food and toys, then photograph them to “collect” them. There are a bunch of regular cats — and some special fancy cats, too.

And I’ve already collected them all.

I am a champion, at last.

I’m back, maybe.

I think I stopped blogging partially because I made my website so boring and ugly that I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. So I gave the site a makeover in hopes that I would be inspired.

I do still have things to say that don’t fit on Twitter, so I’m going to give this another go.

I give quality Sarah, I guess.

Someone believing me to be a different Sarah Crowder followed me on Instagram a while back. I know because I have gotten misdirected e-mail from the same person. And here’s the thing: I post selfies. She knows I’m a different Sarah Crowder.

But she hasn’t unfollowed me, and occasionally “hearts” my photos.

I guess because I’m just that awesome?

That’s right, other Sarahs. I’m in ur Instagrams, stealing ur friends.