Eaton Park

I just remembered this and thought I should share. In the name of being an Eaton, and all.

On Memorial Day, I got a hankering to go on a hike. There are so many beautiful hikes around Palo Alto, and I happened upon one on the internet that was about 10 miles away from our apartment called "Eaton Park." Seriously. I took it as a sign.

It was about 3.4 miles round trip, and it took us through a dense, lush, hilly forest on a deserted path. It was the perfect way to spend Memorial Day morning/afternoon (and left us enough time to get home so Harry could work on some finals).



The view.



Smiles all around.



Trying to get a cool action shot of me blowing on the huge dandelion. Failing miserably.



Halfway point (which took us into the suburbs, and then back into the wilderness again).



The path was riddled with banana slugs. And I mean RIDDLED. At least they're a pretty color.



All finished.

Because my spouse is the best of all the spouses in the land

I got a hair cut yesterday. It was one of those risky ones where you have a vision and it’s been a long time coming and you’ve saved your pennies and the hair appointment is scheduled with a highly recommended hair dresser weeks in advance. So I went and an hour later, I left, feeling a little sad. It didn’t work out.

I think we’ve all been there—when you pay good money for a haircut that makes you feel like you belong in the 90’s on a “Friends” episode. It’s as if someone has punched you in the stomach. And you paid them for it.

I came home with spirits that were a bit deflated.

And let it be known that Hal works really hard. I’m not the only one who works all day long around here. And he listened to me as I hemmed and hawed, and eventually let all my worries snowball into worrying about my hair, my day, our crazy schedule, the lack of sleep I get, how I wish I could just have one day where I don’t have to do anything. And he was perfect. He just sat there and listened, filled in my pauses with words of both encouragement and sympathy, and then took me out to dinner. And then gave me free reign to pick what to watch on TV.

I know every wife says this, and in our own way we’re all right, but seriously. My spouse is the man.

(Sidenote: Pictures of the haircut are forthcoming. After my mini-episode, I called the salon, and they said they could easily fix my bang woes for free. Bam.)

So today I had an undeniable hankering to make him something really tasty for dinner. And I wanted it to be something manly and masculine and out of the ordinary. Because he’s the best. Is this post rapidly crossing a line marked “nobody cares but Sarah?” Then stop reading, foo, because I’m not done.

I love this site. I’ve used it many times. The recipes are all scrumptious. If I wanted to pull a “Julie and Julia” and make every recipe from one source over the course of a year, I would be tempted to use this site. Chock full of creative culinary ideas.

I stumbled upon the recipe for Steak Sandwiches a while ago and needed a good reason to cook a real steak (for the first time in my life). And today was that day.

(Sidenote: It's not like I never cook real food for Harry. But bear in mind, all ye who possess counter space and dishwashers-- cooking is an entirely different experience at my house. I'll think of a great recipe, start to crave it, and then say, "Oh wait. That's going to require like 4 bowls and like 3 pans and who knows how many spoons." And then the recipe is nixed in the name of grilled cheese sandwiches. All ye who have dishwashers: I'm jealous of you.)

Behold. It’s like I borrowed a swatch of Lady Gaga’s meat dress.







If anyone is interested in the recipe, it’s here.

PS If any further proof is needed to show that that my spouse is the man... he's doing all the dishes (by hand, mind you) as I type these very words.

A Long Time Coming

For those of you who don't know, I've been working on my latest album for three years now.

I love music, what can I say? I feel compelled, regularly, to pick up a guitar or sit at some keys and let it all out. And for the last 10 years or so, that's lead to a regular compulsion to also record.

I've done four albums in the past.

The first was my introduction (trial by fire, crash, and burn) to recording methods. Good luck finding it :)

After that, I decided to do some homework and read my brother Mac's textbook from his college music recording class, cover to cover. It helped a little.
(Couldn't Remember the Title, but Imagine a Photo Here)

Next came a collaborative effort.

I was in a band in high school called Coto with my brother Dan, my cousin/best friend Joe, and other close friends Troy Lea, Mike Slater, and Aaron Van Wagoner. Bad Rock = Good Times.

Then I did another by myself.

And then another.

You can find a couple of the songs off these here.

Then I made a compilation / Best Of (not included in my count). It's choose your own cover (a la choose your own adventure):



Then I took a songwriting class at BYU. It was fun.

But all this time, I had been hoping to grow up one day and make a real album of real music, like



or


(my namesake)

or



So, I set myself to it, and at long last (5 years since my last original release), I present:



Yes, my recording artist alter-ego is "harry j reynolds". Deal with it.

You can, if you like, listen to samples, or buy it, here.

Blessings forever be upon my wife for putting up with endless hours of

“Jack, please, I'm only an elected official here, I can't make decisions by myself!”

(Ten points to you if you can name that movie)

The time has come. It’s been 4 ½ months. I can't take it anymore.

I, Sarita Guadalupe Mariachi Cortez Eatón Reynaldo, need a haircut. And for the vida of me, I can’t decide what to do.

Exhibit A

I could do something like this- more layers, no bangs, lazy wavy style, lots of freedom (sans freaky smile).

Exhibit B

I could go back to the world of fringe (sans blonde).

Exhibit C

I could lose a heaping amount of length and give my neck some relief.

Exhibit D

Or I could just go the experimental route.

I have the appointment scheduled with a girl that all the women in my office swear by. The only thing I lack is inspiration.

Deep thoughts? Favorites? Warnings? Movie quotes? Embarrassing childhood stories about the school playground?

Bring it.

Don't worry, there's a disclaimer.

I had a hankering to post a few more of some favorite wedding pictures today. But I realized that not only is it narcissistic to assume that people actually want to look at these as much as I do, but far worse, it might be construed as "cheesy." Thus, be advised that you should read the following disclaimer before scrolling too far down.

Cheesiness Disclaimer:

This cheesy blog post (hereafter known as "Post") is provided “as is” without any representations or warranties, express or implied. If you are adverse to cheesiness caused by 1) the viewing of wedding pictures and/or 2) any similar/related varying amounts of cheesy things, this post may cause adverse reactions. The information contained in the Post is presented in summary form only and intended to provide broad consumer understanding and knowledge of Harrison and Sarah (hereafter known as "Sarrison"). The Post does not recommend the self-management of Sarrison Post-related over-cheesiness conditions. Information obtained by reading the Post is not exhaustive and does not cover all subsequent over-cheesiness conditions or their treatment. Should you have any Post cheesiness-related questions or symptoms, please call or see your physician or other health care provider promptly (or just call Go or Paul like the rest of us do). Never disregard Post cheesiness advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read here.

Happy 118 days of marriage!