My Photo


  • a happy, ordinary, middle-aged, suburban woman who paints odd pictures, gardens in a straw hat, lives with the love of her life, is owned by one cat and the ghosts of several others, and walks a little funny 'cause she has a fake leg. She started this website because there's more to life than what we lose, and we need to let each other know what's possible, even if it's only a happy, ordinary life.

November 2011

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  • E-mail me at:

    sara at saraarts dot com

    Make sure the subject line of your correspondence is clear and specific. I do not open e-mails from strangers unless I can tell in advance that I want to read them.

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  • I Took The Handmade Pledge!

Good reads, grownups only

« Deconstructing Sara | Main | Evidence of Avarice »


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When my daughter was 12 she broke her leg badly. She was in a huge cast, and she never really got used to the crutches. We were heading to the doctors office when this woman swooped down upon my daughter and projected a lot of tragic and heroic crap on her. I was outraged at her. It felt like she was somehow mining my daughter's situation for her own emotional ends. I have tried to forgive her because I'm sure she was doing the best she could but it still rankles.

I'm really sorry that Sara is gone. I have loved reading her because she made me laugh and she made me reflect on my entrenched ideas sometimes too. Mostly though she made me laugh with her turns of phrase. For what it's worth, I have lost important people too young too. I think madness is a response I respect. Thank you for writing. I'll keep checking back.


Thanks for that Em,

You know, Sara had no problem at all with children asking her why she had an artificial leg. Some even thought it was cool. She loved their honest curiosity, without preconceptions and felt it was important for her to be honest to them. That it would help them see that she was overcoming tragedy so that someday they too may do the same.

As for my madness, thank you, I think you are the only one so far who understands me. :)


The Goldfish

I would love to be involved in such a project.

When people offer to pray for me, I offer to hold a Black Mass on their behalf.


I remember trying to use my time in a halo brace to reach out to kids. Some were frankly interested, and some were terrified, but normalizing the situation was always worth a try. It didn't always go well, but I hope at the very least they saw that the person inside the frightening contraption was real and smiled and talked, and was more than just some affliction.

It pissed me off to no end, though, when parents would deliver the brief startled stare and then usher their children (far) away, rendering the whole experience null and worthless.
I'm not going to presume to know Sara's exact motivation, but I think our aims might have been similar.

I can understand the anger. I've felt some insanely and uncharacteristically angry impulses while grief-stricken and I think it's not an entirely unreasonable thing. It seems like it especially kicks in when someone either doesn't seem to "get it" (whatever "it" feels like at the moment) or if they're saying something that seems to be in the exact opposite direction of what the person you've lost would have wanted. It feels as if their memory is somehow being insulted and needs to be defended. Or at least it did to me. But this isn't about me.

Here's one last barely-relevant anecdote. I was on an outing with an elderly lady, who fell on some stairs and broke her arm. We had just sent for an ambulance and were kneeling beside her when some random woman rode up on a bike. She opened her mouth and what came out...not "can I help", not "do you need me to call someone", but "I need to say a prayer over her", stunned us. It seemed so completely gratuitous and ultimately self-serving that we were furious. But she said her prayer and got whatever she needed out of it and let us be.

I think generally people have good intentions, although some are on the mildly self-serving side, and people really do worry about screwing it all up. And it does happen. People bungle things without meaning to because we're human, we're imperfect, we're fumblers and bunglers. It's a hard thing to avoid and a hard thing to forgive.

Ron Sullivan

I won't claim to understand anyone anymore, but man I agree that strangers gooshing uninvidedly all over a person is just irritating. I mean like a bastard file dipped in pepper and poison oak being sawed across your face irritating. You check to see if you;re wearing your Public Emotional Sop Towel T-shirt and maybe try to keep a straight face.

At least if you get angelfarts you can delete them.

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