Let’s go to Paris for my birthday!

Well, I’m not literally going to Paris for my birthday BUT Paris is what I want for my birthday. Not making sense? Check it …

I started a GoFundMe to help me get to Paris in March 2020. This is all about book nerds, literary history, and creativity, centered around the famed bookshop, Shakespeare and Co.


With this trip, I hope to remind people of all ages that life is never stagnant. There is always space for change and opportunities to try something stupidly spectacular. There are new people to meet, books to read, and words yet to be written if only we stop being afraid and just do.

Help celebrate my birthday and send this crazy writer to Paris by donating to my GoFundMe. Thanks, lots of love, and boy voyage, mes amours.

PS: I’m currently re-learning French, and the best word ever is “epoustouflant,” which means “breathtaking.” It’s so much fun to say! SAY IT!


A Lord to Love: Sexy, sweet LGBTQ Victorian romance

My new novella, A Lord to Love, is out today from Carnation Books. It’s a sweet, sexy LGBTQ Victorian romance inspired by the characters of BBC’s Sherlock.

During negotiations for a truce between the feuding Price and Morgan families, Lord John Morgan makes a shocking offer: he will give the Price family their land, in exchange for Harrison Price’s hand in marriage.

John has long been enamored with Harrison, the beautiful son of his late rival. Harrison is nineteen, inexperienced, and known for being cold and bitingly brilliant. The union seems impossible, but John is determined to win the affections of his young obsession.

Will the frigid Harrison concede, or will the object of John’s adoration leave him alone at the altar? Find out in this sexy, romantic tale readers are calling “deliciously carnal” and full of “swoon-worthy moments!”

What readers are saying …

“So adorable it should be a kitten. In a cravat.”

“If I could just get about 200 more pages of Harrison and John, I think I’d die happy.  Sara’s a genius at prose, and this story’s writing is marvelous, as always. I can’t say enough about this Victorian tale of love. I may or may not have girly squeeed when I read this, but so will you.”

“A terrific read. Lord John’s voice is beautifully in-style for the time period. There is something very melodic yet still masculine in the ebb and flow of his words.”

Buy your copy today from Amazon. It’s only 99-cents!

This novella is dedicated to all the Johnlock and Charmie fan fiction writers and readers who inspire me with their work but also with their hysterical screaming over things I’ve written. I love these fandoms, and A Lord to Love wouldn’t exist without the amazing support system I have found on A03. Happy reading!



Mental Health · Uncategorized

Successfully Mad: My new mental health blog


I’ve been riding the crazy train since I was fourteen, ebbing and flowing on tides of happiness, depression, and anxiety. Many writers can probably say the same. Hell, engineers can say the same. Mental illness doesn’t discriminate.

I didn’t talk openly about my mental health (or lack thereof) until Robin Williams committed suicide. I realized that if someone as “happy” as him could do such a thing, maybe there were other people struggling in silence, too. I first started writing about my personal demons; then, I gave a big speech at the University of Arizona’s Mental Health Awareness Week.

Yeah, I was terrified, but since then, I’ve spoken a lot IN PUBLIC (arrrgggguhh) about mental illness: its causes and its treatments. Last November, I had a pretty nasty relapse. My mental health was the worst it had been in years. The depression, anxiety, and overwhelming fear wouldn’t stop, negatively affecting my work, my sleep, and my relationships

Sorta scared of medication, I sought therapy instead, and my therapist suggested I start a mental health blog … so I did.

Successfully Mad: Accepting Yourself and Your Mental Illness is now up and running. There, I do my best to write honestly about what I’m going through in an attempt to exorcise my own demons and maybe help other people, too.

Mental illness is a solitary disease, but it’s important to realize you are not alone. I’m just as messed up as you, I promise. There are plenty of us out there going through similar battles with body image, self confidence, paranoia, and severe melancholy. Let’s remove the stigma and talk about it.

If you’re up for a journey, come visit me HERE at Successfully Mad and subscribe in the sidebar. (You can learn more about my mental health speech there, too, and learn a bit about my background.) I’m going to try to be brave, so be brave with me.

Whatever you’re going through, have a hug through the internet. You’re not alone, and we’re gonna get through all this nasty shit together.


Vampires and romance: The Longest Night is HERE

Today is the Winter Solstice. What do vampires do on the longest night of the year? Find out with a brand new (super sexy) short story collection from Once Upon Anthologies. About Once Upon the Longest Night:

The longest night. A vampire’s delight …

The winter solstice, a time of birth and rebirth, life and death, waning light and rising darkness. A time when those who flee the sun and crave the taste of blood find their greatest solace. But one never knows what the longest night might hold.

Once Upon the Longest Night, a collection of adult paranormal romances, features eight novelettes of lovers and their battles against one of the greatest legends of our time: the vampire.

A 15th-century seaman and the love of his life come face to face with a vengeful manjasang. In ancient Rome, a hunted priestess captured by a loyal centurion offers her aid to the enemy. With the help of a handsome Royal courier, a reluctant Romanian princess braves the curse flowing within her noble blood. Danger awaits when a vampire in the far reaches of North Dakota must endure the lethal cold to protect the woman she loves. And in a future New York, a broken general returns home for the Longest Night Ball where he meets a young male witch who might change his life forever.

This anthology combines vampire mythos and affairs of the heart with the sacred symbolism and magic of the winter season. Sit back and let us tell you a tale. Welcome to the Longest Night.

Because I love all things vampire, I’m honored to be included in this beautiful anthology with my story, “His Last Battle.”

Suffering from PTSD, vampire general Devlin Frost returns home from the war on Lycans and attends the historic Longest Night Ball. Here, royal witch Elijah Crow must choose three immortal suitors to compete for his love and power. When Devlin is shockingly chosen as one of the three, his immediate attraction to the young witch coaxes him into entering the fray, but this battle is for more than Elijah’s love. The broken general might also win back his ruined heart and bruised soul—if he survives the night.

Today, to celebrate the longest, darkest night of the year, buy your copy of Once Upon the Longest Night (available now in eBook; available later in paperback … which is awesome, considering I can’t WAIT to get my hands on this pretty pretty). Order your copy from Amazon, and find an excerpt from “His Last Battle” below!

“His Last Battle:” An Excerpt
by Sara Dobie Bauer
Featured in Once Upon the Longest Night

Frank Sinatra played somewhere nearby. He sang about being home for Christmas as Devlin melted into the couch of a room that might as well have existed under the sea. Painted in vibrant shades of blue and green, the décor was white like sea corral. A nearby candle smelled of rushing water and moss.

“This place is like Masque of the Red Death.”

Elijah poured two glasses of something clear. “How so?”

“Every room a different color.”

He handed the drink to Devlin and sat in a chair across from him. “Yes, but Death arrived at sunset, and we all know he’s here.”


Elijah lifted his chin in a gesture to Devlin’s glass.

Devlin followed orders. “What is it?”

Elijah struck a putout expression only the very young could muster. “It’s water.” He half-rolled his eyes. “Just water.”

Devlin cut him a look of caution. “Careful. I’m already tempted to put you over my knee.”

Frozen in his seat, Elijah blinked, but his cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink. Devlin had trouble remembering what his face had looked like looming over him in the ballroom, filled with fear.

“What happened to me out there?”

Elijah crossed his legs. “Time release holy water.”

“Come again?”

“An expensive invention of the vampire aristocracy to torture one another. Developed a couple years ago. Burns you from the inside out, but only after it’s made its way into all your nooks and crannies.”

“Jesus.” He held his glass up and stared at it. “Thank Christ the Lycans could never afford such technology to use against us. I suddenly yearn for the comfort of battle. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do to have you dead right out the gate.”

Devlin put his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You were scared.”

Elijah’s lips parted before he shook his head, just a little. “Wasn’t.”

“You were. Yet you don’t even know me.”

Elijah looked away toward the turquoise curtains that shone like a mid-afternoon sea. He folded his hands in his lap and played thumb war with himself, a playful gesture that alluded to his youth. “My grandfather used to say you were the best vampire soldier in history. General Devlin, the great. I grew up listening to stories about you. You see, my grandfather was my only friend. Everyone—except for my parents—was always scared of me.”

“You don’t seem very scary.”

Elijah’s dark eyes glowed green for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“No.” Devlin chuckled. He hadn’t been this entertained since the fourth great Lycan upheaval. He eyed Elijah’s open collar and the revealed pale skin beneath. “But I am sure I want to touch you.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know if you deserve that.”

“Oh, I deserve to touch you. I think you even want me to.” He tilted his head. “Your pulse is elevated.”

Read the tumultuous longest night love story of this vampire and his bad boy witch in Once Upon the Longest Night, available now!! A happy solstice and merry Christmas to all xoxo


Tumblr has made a frightening mistake

Ironically, I was going to wake up and write erotica this morning. Instead, I have to deal with Tumblr banning all adult content, and my heart hurts.

According to The Verve, “Tumblr will permanently ban adult content from its platform on December 17th in a move that will eradicate porn-related communities on the platform and fundamentally alter how the service is used. The ban includes explicit sexual content and nudity with a few exceptions.” Such content includes “female-presenting nipples and any media involving sex acts, including illustrations.”

This is all due to an Apple freak out. Somebody on Tumblr somewhere posted child pornography, so Apple removed the Tumblr app from its app store, creating this knee-jerk ban from Tumblr. I don’t condone child pornography, but people are people—good and bad—and post things—good and bad. The result is the rest of us (a massive, loving community of geeks, fans, and artists) being emotionally torn apart.

For me, it is emotional, but it’s a lot more than that. It’s downright scary.

I adore Tumblr. Ever since discovering the BBC Sherlock fandom, I’ve embraced Tumblr as a warm, safe space to drool over Benedict Cumberbatch and wallow in the Johnlock theories. Since then, I’ve moved on to join the hordes of Call Me By Your Name fans who giggle over every Timothee Chalamet / Armie Hammer hug.

As of yesterday, GIFs featuring Call Me By Your Name have been flagged as “adult content,” possibly due to the amount of skin or possibly due to the LGBTQ distinction. See, that’s the problem with Tumblr’s new method of “flagging” posts: it’s not an exact science, so if there’s too much flesh or something Puritanical Christian America deems “other,” it’s going to get flagged as explicit—and boom. Posts gets flagged; accounts get deleted.

A crucifixion painting of Jesus got flagged yesterday because of the nudity. So did the Venus de Milo, most likely because Venus is a female with (gasp) nipples.

Of course, Tumblr wants its followers to know everything is going to be all right because, “There are no shortage of sites on the internet that feature adult content.” Well, no shit, but do they really want a bunch of sexually curious eighteen-year-olds on Pornhub?

Tumblr is/was a safe space for young people to find sexual content that was not explicit in any way but beautiful. As I mentioned, Call Me By Your Name GIFs are being flagged. Want an example of one?

This moment of utter tenderness and fluff between Elio and Oliver is apparently not safe for consumption because heaven forbid we see two men naked and in love—mind you without their dicks flapping around.

For one Tumblr user, “I learned to embrace my sexuality through Tumblr. It is a place of much joy to me, not simply as a place to research, but a place to be creative, to discuss fandom, to build fandoms, and to make connections with people… in short—everything I have come to love and everything I will be sad to lose.”

Instead of a joyful, creative environment, Tumblr wants us to go to some porn site and watch an actress pretending to enjoy herself while being railed by some big, sweaty dude.

Tumblr is trying to cover its own ass by changing its image and, in turn, it is killing itself. We users are scrambling to find a place where it’s safe for us to be ourselves without fear of censorship or judgment—but we don’t know where to go because Tumblr has for years been a safe space where fans can get together and intelligently (and sometimes ridiculously) discuss not only our sexualities but also the perfection of Cumberbatch’s Sherlock hair and Chalamet’s jawline. There are literal hashtags like #hairporn as we jokingly embrace such innocent, escapist addictions when the real world—with its war and idiot politicians—becomes too much to handle. Now, using the word “porn” will probably get me deleted.

Once again, we’re back to “violence is okay but sex is not.” How dare we depict people in love? How dare we present a female nipple? How dare artists draw pictures of Sherlock and John in a heated embrace? None of that for kids, damn it! But violent video games in which we shoot exotic dancers is a-okay?

Ever since reading Fahrenheit 451 in eighth grade, I’ve feared censorship. I’ve watched it happen, little by little, via news stories about people wanting to burn books and laws that would allow florists to turn down a wedding on the basis of straight or gay. Yet, there was always Tumblr: this warm, happy place where I could squee over beautiful people, happy people, and make friends with geeks like me—friends I am now afraid to lose because of the mass Tumblr exodus.

Tumblr is where I’ve found most of my fan fiction readers. It’s where I market my novels (the covers of which, thankfully, only feature male nipples). It’s where I have given and received support from people who understand me—and now, it’s being butchered because the site itself went into Apple-induced panic mode (which, by the way, makes me rethink the terrifying cultural monopoly that is Apple).

I don’t want Tumblr to die, but the platform isn’t giving us much of a choice. I won’t be deleting my profile because I hope they see the error of their ways and reassess. I won’t delete my profile because Tumblr is where I go when I need to relax—and this bitch needs to relax. That said, Tumblr is turning its back on millions of dedicated users. It is changing, mutating, into something none of us ever asked for or wanted. If this is a sign of the times, please keep a look out. Soon, the firemen might be coming to burn your books. And I plan to burn with them.


The Emmett File: A Gender/Sexuality Debate?

When I first wrote my short story, “The Emmett File,” I had no idea it was going to cause so many arguments. I just through it was a cute, happy story about love and a charismatic British dude named Emmett. Instead, I sent the staff of one magazine into an uproar as they debated love versus gender versus sexuality. (Needless to say, the story got rejected from said magazine.)

“The Emmett File” is a love story in which a straight male falls in love with a gay male and they actually have a successful short term relationship that alters both their lives. The big debate: Can you love someone (really, really love them) with no regard for their gender or sexuality? Can you love someone just because of who they are?

Let me know what you think, as “The Emmett File” is now featured at Erotic Review Magazine. Here, have a taste, and follow the link at the bottom to read the whole dang thing.

“The Emmett File”
An Excerpt by Sara Dobie Bauer
Featured in Erotic Review Magazine

Emmett’s odd pizza creation was perfect. The IPAs were perfect. When we stepped into the summer air, even the night felt perfect. The sun had set, but tiny twinkle lights illuminated the immortal desert trees that lined the center of Mill Avenue. Kids were out in droves looking for a buzz. I floated on my full belly, my beer, and the presence of the man at my side.

“Nightcap at my place?” he asked.

“Of course.” I smiled.

Emmett’s apartment was exactly like him: charming and odd.

“Go on.” He waved his hand at me as he approached the kitchen. “Go through my things. Figure out all my secrets. Damn writers,” he muttered into the humming glow of his open fridge.

I thought I was bad, but Emmett’s book collection rivaled the Library of Congress. Several were textbooks. I recognized about a half dozen dog-eared Jane Austen novels. There was science fiction, horror, and comedy. No self-help. No surprise.

He didn’t have pictures on the walls. The wallpaper itself was decoration: an atrocious pattern of reds and oranges that mimicked cheap hotel lobby carpet.

He stepped to my side and gestured to the wall. “I didn’t do that. Came like that.”

“Sure, Emmett.” I accepted the beer from his hand. I took a few steps forward and then turned in a circle. “It’s funny. The only thing about you without personality is your apartment.”

“Probably because I’m never here.” He casually rubbed one thumb over his bottom lip.

I turned away to picked up a copy of Fahrenheit 451. “You might love books as much as I do.”

“Think so?”

I tossed Bradbury on a crooked pile. “Maybe.”

I felt his hand on my lower back, which made me stand up straight and face him. I expected a pithy comment; he dealt them like cards. Instead, he leaned in and kissed me, once, on the lips. His lips were surprisingly soft. Then again, I’d never kissed a man before. Maybe other men’s lips were usually soft. He went in for another, and I dipped my head.

“Uh-h …” I muttered.

“What?” He had his hand on my shoulder.

“Emmett, I’m not …”

I watched his eyes close. He pulled his hand off my shoulder. “Fuck, I usually have spot on radar for this. Shit.” He tugged his hand through his hair.

I felt an unfamiliar desperation, a fear of losing this friend I barely knew. Maybe it was the fear of losing a character like Emmett. “Please don’t make this weird. I’ve been here two weeks, and you’re the only person I’ve had a conversation with.”

“Charlie, God, I’m sorry.” He took another step away from me and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You just seem really comfortable around me. We went to dinner together. You kept staring at me.”

“Was I really staring at you? I’m sorry. It’s a cataloguing thing for writing. It’s probably why women think I’m creepy.”

Emmett smiled. Just like that, I knew the storm had passed.



Hungry vampires coming for you December 21st

Oh, I love vampires!!!! Love them!!! Y’all know that, I would assume, if we’ve ever spoken for more than five seconds. I was thrilled to be invited to join Once Upon AnthologiesLongest Night collection, coming December 21. Read all about it, see the AMAZING cover, and check out the Kickstarter campaign below!

The longest night. A vampire’s delight.

The winter solstice, a time of birth and rebirth, life and death, waning light and rising darkness. A time when those who flee the sun and crave the taste of blood find their greatest solace.

But one never knows what the longest night might hold.

Once Upon the Longest Night, a collection of adult paranormal romances, features nine novelettes of lovers and their battles against one of the greatest legends of our time: the vampire. A 15th-century seaman and the love of his life come face to face with a vengeful manjasang. In ancient Rome, a hunted priestess captured by a loyal centurion offers her aid to the enemy. With the help of a handsome Royal courier, a reluctant Romanian princess braves the curse flowing within her noble blood. Danger awaits when a vampire in the far reaches of North Dakota must endure the lethal cold to protect the woman she loves. And in a future New York, a broken general returns home for the Longest Night Ball where he meets a young male witch who might change his life forever.

This anthology combines vampire mythos and affairs of the heart with the sacred symbolism and magic of the winter season.

Sit back and let us tell you a tale. Welcome to the Longest Night.

About my story, “His Last Battle:”

Suffering from PTSD, vampire general Devlin Frost returns home from the war on Lycans and attends the historic Longest Night Ball. Here, royal witch Elijah Crow must choose three immortal suitors to compete for his love and power. When Devlin is shockingly chosen as one of the three, his immediate attraction to the young witch coaxes him into entering the fray, but this battle is for more than Elijah’s love. The broken general might also win back his ruined heart and bruised soul—if he survives the night.

About the Kickstarter:

There are so many ways you can support this anthology, coming December 21. In the Kickstarter campaign, you can become an Ambient Feeder, Member of the Court, or even win a full Sara Dobie Bauer Bundle! Click on the REWARDS button and learn more:

The Once Upon Anthologies imprint was created to offer readers a variety of themed paranormal romances along with mythological and fairytale retellings from mostly New-To-You authors. It’s a way to showcase talent in the fantasy romance genre all while delivering bite-size nighttime tales you can’t put down. “The way we see it, we still love a good fairytale or ghost story, we just like them a little sexier now.” Amen to that!!


JL Gribble reveals her fantasy movie cast for the Steel Empires series

Book 4 of the Steel Empires urban fantasy series is out TODAY! In a world with vampires, warrior-mages, weredragons, and sarcastic violin players, time travel seems like the obvious next step. To celebrate Steel Time, author JL Gribble is here to share her fantasy movie cast for the main characters in her book.


You’re never too young or too old to experience a paradigm shift.

Toria Connor is 25 when tripping over an artifact in the ruins of Nacostina thrusts her a century into the past, before the city is destroyed during the Last War. Now, she finds herself alone. Adrift in a time where she must hide everything important to her, from her mercenary career to her true magical ability.

Victory is over eight centuries old when she follows her adopted daughter. She has seen empires rise and fall, but never anything like this. She must survive alone in a city inhospitable to vampires, dodging friends and foes from her past alike.

Both of them know the clock is ticking down to the moment when the city is wiped off the map. Now, they’re in a race against time. To find each other. To escape the past. And to save the future.

Currently available from:
Barnes & Noble
Direct from publisher
Carpe Librum (JL’s local indie bookseller)
… or support your own local independent bookstore by requesting a copy today!


It is possible to read Steel Time as a stand-alone book, but don’t miss out on Toria and Victory’s previous adventures!

Book 1: Steel Victory
Book 2: Steel Magic
Book 3: Steel Blood


Toria Connor

While Toria Connor started this series in college, in this book she’s reached her mid-twenties. She’s settled into her life and career as a mercenary warrior-mage. She’s tough, resourceful, and independent. But her life gets turned upside-down, and suddenly she has to hide everything about herself and pretend to be a normal woman in an old-fashioned world. I cast Lauren Cohan as Toria because of both her physical appearance and how her role as Maggie showed how she can be both fierce and sweet.


As Toria gets older, she now looks more like a sister than a child to her adopted vampire mother. Victory has made the transition from career mercenary to local politician, but she’s never afraid to return to the sword when her daughter needs help with a job. Returning to the past reminds her of a world that used to be, and how she doesn’t necessarily want to return to the person she used to be. Jaimie Alexander is my Victory, because I fell in love with her presentation as the strong and gorgeous Lady Sif in the first Thor movie.


The elven assistant curator at the Museum of New Continental History goes by Liam in casual company. He is originally tasked with helping Toria acclimate to life in the “future,” but their relationship gets off to a rocky start before sparks start to fly. This nerdy intellectual is much, much older than a human his apparent age would be, but Toria proves herself more than a match for him. I first saw Luke Mitchell in Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and though I didn’t love his character, this photograph of him evokes Liam to a T. Just needs pointier ears.


While Toria is Victory’s adopted human child, Jarimis is Victory’s vampire progeny. Bred and raised to be an assassin, he embraced Victory’s mercenary lifestyle before abandoning it to pursue his true passion of academia. I’ve had Jarimis in my head as a character for at least a decade, but it wasn’t until this book that I started looking at actors to represent him. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. I’m a huge fan of iZombie, and Rahul Kohli was exactly what I was looking for.


By day, JL Gribble is a professional medical editor. By night, she does freelance fiction editing in all genres, along with reading, playing video games, and occasionally even writing. She is currently working on the Steel Empires series for Dog Star Books, the science-fiction/adventure imprint of Raw Dog Screaming Press. Previously, she was an editor for the Far Worlds anthology.

Gribble studied English at St. Mary’s College of Maryland. She received her Master’s degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, where her debut novel Steel Victory was her thesis for the program.

She lives in Ellicott City, Maryland, with her husband and three vocal Siamese cats.

Find her online at:


The Chicken Incident, Ohio, or why raccoons are evil

At 2 AM last night, I woke to the sound of chickens screaming. I’m pretty sure my husband could sleep through an atomic bomb, so of course, he heard nothing. Because I apparently have not seen enough horror movies, I ran outside in my pajamas (no bra) with a flashlight, deserving to be killed by Leatherface.

As I neared our chicken coop, I at first saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, I got closer. I saw what appeared to be a bloody stump of a chicken leg hanging halfway out the closed door. Yes, the chicken coop was still closed. Yes, half a chicken was sticking out of it. Yes, some fanged monster had tried to drag a large chicken through a tiny hole, and oh, dear God, what is life?

About five seconds later, a pair of glowing eyes crept into my yard. Ah-ha, the culprit: a skinny raccoon. I wasn’t sure how to proceed since wildlife should be scared of humans because we’re awful, but this raccoon just stood there like he wanted to shoot the shit.

How is your night, human?

Oh, fine, Mr. Raccoon. I just sort of wish you wouldn’t do scary stuff like disembowel my chickens at 2 AM.

Noted, human. I shall now depart.

Except he didn’t depart. He stood there staring at me until I made the rash decision to run directly at the raccoon. Well, he didn’t like that, so he left. The chickens continued screaming … Well, one in particular. You guessed it: the one with half a body torn off and hanging from the chicken coop door. Yeah, that guy? He was still alive.

We had now entered Jake territory.

I calmly cleared my throat and went back to the house. By the way, I was barefoot, so not only was I chasing a raccoon barefoot but I was also trying to avoid dog poop in the dark.

I got back to the bedroom and announced, “Jake. Wake up,” in the calmest voice possible, images of silver eyes and bloody stumps just ricocheting around my brain like ping pong balls.

Jake isn’t a good waker-upper. He startled and made a confused noise before I was like, “Dude, the chickens are being murdered.” Whelp, that got his attention.

I don’t know why I joined him outside. The chickens are my husband’s project, and although, yes, I was the earlier hero, they’re his babies. Jake was understandably not pleased at the state of things. I stayed there with him, holding the flashlight, until he tugged the half-eaten still alive chicken out into the open and said something about “sorry, buddy” and … Yeah, I fled inside at that point.

It took forever to fall back to sleep. I’m sore everywhere today and have a dozen times realized I’m staring at walls and not working.

I’m not upset about the chickens, not really. It sucks that we lost four last night to a hungry fanged beast, and I feel bad that my hubby puts so much work into raising these birds—for us—and then, they go and get their dumb asses killed. (Chickens are really dumb; trust me on this.)

Instead of being upset, I’m entertained today because, before I met my husband, I don’t think I’d ever met a chicken outside of a plate and yet, last night I wielded a massive flashlight and chased a monster from my yard. Most days, I write about monsters, but I don’t often stare one down and have an imaginary conversation at 2 AM.

Life is awkward and weird and sometimes horrible, and yeah, we rush around all the time. Days go so fast, and we’re like, “How did I get here?” But, man, sometimes life is just so dang funny with its metaphorical blood and guts hanging out for all to see. It’s a mess. Enjoy the mess. Now, go about your day and try not to hear the sound of screaming chickens.

(If you want to read about The Chicken Incident, Arizona, feel free, but it’s equally as alarming as what you just read. Cheers!)


Am I a slut?

One of my favorite Sex and the City episodes is “Are We Sluts?” In it, heroine Carrie Bradshaw (and her three crazy friends) come to question their own sexual prowess based on strange bedfellows, a burglary, and an STD. I’m not getting into the details here, because you should really just watch the episode. It’s fabulous. I’m more addressing this question to myself: am I a slut?

Now, I realize that sounds sort of crazy. One, I’m married, so if anything, I’m a monogamous slut—which, in my opinion, is the cornerstone of a strong marriage. I’m more concerned with certain recent developments in my wardrobe. Last night is a good example.

With Jake out of town, I went barhopping with some of his twenty-something coworkers. Before leaving the house, I put on something “comfortable.” For me, “comfortable” was skin-tight Express jeans and a midriff halter-top. While curling my hair and staring at my own thirty-five-year-old reflection, I had the first tiny inkling … Sara, do you dress like a—gulp—slut?

I dress young for my age. I know this. Some days, I wear see-through shirts and six-inch heels to the  freaking grocery store. Ridiculous. Then, last night, I had a ten-minute internal battle with myself before I suddenly, coherently decided I’m not a slut; I’m just happy.

Hear me out. Currently, I’m yoga-obsessed. I don’t eat much meat anymore, and I’ve given up the majority of dairy and gluten. (Do I still drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes? Duh. I’m not a nun.) I recently went to buy the above-mentioned Express jeans, and I chose a size six. The sales boy actually glared at me—a visual “Bitch, please”—before handing me a size two. I can’t freaking believe I now wear a size two.

All my life—no matter my weight—I have felt like an awkward, chubby girl. Don’t roll your eyes; I realize this is all in my head, but my head is a very important part of my body. For months at my yoga studio, for instance, I was nervous to talk to my teachers because I thought I wasn’t worthy. I was the clumsy, thick girl, since for most of my life, that is how I’ve identified in my personal perception.

Now, I’m thirty-five and in the best shape of my life. With the help of exercise, healthy eating, my perfect husband, and maturity, I’m happy and confident in my body—which brings us back to the slut thing.

Do my clothes sometimes cling a little tightly? Do my tits sometimes loom a little large? Do I show my tummy and shake my ass in bars? Well, yeah. Because finally (finally), I’m happy with the way I look and comfortable—chuffed even—with who I am, and I don’t care who sees. My style has changed so much over the years, but I think my clothes are finally me—the me I have always wanted to be.

This isn’t political. I’m not reclaiming the word “slut” and making it into a pride statement. Honestly, this isn’t even about you. This is about me, damn it, comfortable in my skin after thirty-five years of worrying that I look bloated. With thirty-six looming in June, it’s prime time to say I’m not a slut; I’m just me.