Sarah.

I have a friend named Sarah. We met while living in the great city of Scranton (The Office! Seriously. Watch this show. Go out, rent the seasons. Aw heck. Call me. I own the DVD's and will happily share with any of you the pure joy that is The Office), and we became fast friends. (Well, she absolutely initiated our friendship. It may not have moved so fast if it wasn't for her very determined drive to make friends. As you may know, I'm totally cool with just living in my hermit bubble...) Sarah came right up to me after church one day and said "I need your number." She called me that week, invited me out to dinner, and informed me that she had locked herself out of her house, so if I could come, like, now, it would be good. I rescued her from a Donut Zone (Was that the name?) parking lot a few minutes later, and we went out to eat. A friendship was born over Indian food, lost keys, cloves, many dinners, time killing in the church bathroom, dripping non-drip candles, free furniture, and one very interpretive dance to all things Rick Warren. (40 Days of Purpose lends itself to much mocking. It's a good program...but yeah. Much mocking.)

Sarah is wonderfully quirky (A good quirky. Like totally cool and fun!), she's funny, beautiful and smart. She's an amazing mother, and is passionate about her faith and her family. She's married to a really great guy who obviously loves her and their children. I think he's awesome.

Oh. And she had a nose ring first.

Anyway. Over the years, we've had some kids and moved to a few different locations. We no longer live as close as we once did. However, I so wish we did. Because...

Sarah claims that this is missing from her life. Yeah. Well, this is missing from mine. My word. I would so be there, spinning on the quarter hour with you.

Miss you.