In her fortieth year....

[sarahcsekey]

Dirty Look: Danger

Sarah died suddenly Wednesday night after her daughter shot her such a sharp and dirty look that she sliced Sarah's head right off. The wound was clean and cauterized thanks to Sarah's teenaged daughter's laser-sharp glare. Sarah was in her fortieth year. The family urges you to remain vigilant regarding the dangers of scowling and shooting daggers at your loved ones.

[sarahcsekey]

After days of searching, the family of Sarah Csekey released that they had found her body on the home farm property late last night. Sarah had gone missing after dinner earlier this week while she was closing the chicken coops.

At first it was feared that she'd run away with the coyotes, but after a search involving sniffer dogs and video (toy) sky-drones, Sarah was discovered dead in a deep ditch of mud made by the tractor tires.

The wet spring has played havoc on the daily manure removal and the tire tracks on the farm are at an all-time depth of four feet in some places. The nature of her body suggests that Sarah might have simply expired of ennui. She died being caught in a literal rut. She was in her fortieth year.

The family is asking for donations in lieu of flowers to the Gravel for Farm Paths fund.

[sarahcsekey]

Rolling in the Deep

Sarah died suddenly Thursday afternoon at work. Moments before she dropped dead, a gentleman asked her to make him a coffee while she worked the reference desk of the library. It appears that Sarah rolled her eyes so fast and so hard, her brain was sliced completely in half (across both hemispheres). The sharp looks that she usually reserved for morons slipped off course and killed her instantly. She was in her fortieth year.

[sarahcsekey]

Check your sweaters for mothers

In a knitting related death that illustrates the dangers of Fair Isle, Sarah died late last Sunday night, she was in her fortieth year.

For the past month Sarah had been working on a pair of four-colour stranded half-mitts. The mitts had no tops, and a simple thumb, making the snaggles of multi-coloured yarn the only tricky part of the knitting. She had upped the ante by knitting them on the same needles, meaning eight threads of yarn were swirling around her like a woolly tornado each night.

Sarah’s eagerness to finish the mittens was evident. The weather had been warming up recently, and she wanted her daughter to have a reason to wear the mushroom-themed hand warmers (although her daughter’s loyalty for wearing hand knits goes beyond comfort – she is willing to wear wool regardless of the practical considerations of weather, but based on her mother’s direction).

“We were really relieved when the knitting was done,” Sarah’s husband said. “We thought we were through the danger when she bound off that ribbing...”

Alas, no one had considered the obvious threat of weaving in all those ends. Sarah took great care to make those ends invisible. Her tension remained perfect. The mushroom pattern stayed even across the mitts, but sadly and unintentionally Sarah wove herself tightly into the wrong-side of the right-hand mitt where she quickly suffocated.

Family and friends are asking for donations to the Victims Against Stranded Knitwear (VASK) to aid in an education campaign for knitters.

[sarahcsekey]

Chop Chop!

Sarah died early this morning during a lightning-fast slow-cooker-stew session, she was in her fortieth year. Working from a cookbook designed to feed lumber camps (Hungarian teenagers in the house) piles of raw veggies were heaped on the chopping board. Sarah set to work with her ever-present mental stop-watch ticking down until her next chore (shower at 7:20) at top speed.

Making dinner before 7 am is a perilous choice to be sure. Sarah was well-versed in extreme living and ignorant to danger, so speed-chopping root vegetables at dawn didn’t register as a threat to her safety and she went ahead at 1,000 chops per minute with the sharpest kitchen knife.

It appeared that she unwittingly chopped her whole self up, right into the stew. It all happened so fast, she was in the slow cooker before she felt the first slice.

In lieu of flowers, donations in Sarah's name can be made at the Ginsu Knives clinic.

[sarahcsekey]

Eyrie Ride

Sarah is presumed to be dead after an incident early Monday with local ospreys. The working mother of three was riding her bike to work around 8:30 that morning when witnesses said she stopped under a large osprey nest.

"I swear to you that she started speaking bird," said Bob, an elderly man who lives in the senior's park across from the telephone pole that houses the giant nest. "I don't mean she was tweet-tweeting at all. I mean, the girl just leaned back and called up to that nest in a shriek that sounded like a hell bird."

The ospreys had just returned that day after their winter migration. Sarah appeared to be welcoming them home, said Bob.

"I could swear they were talking," he said. "Until they weren't talking any more."

The birds of prey tore out of the nest and dove at Sarah, plucking her up by the bike helmet and soaring off over Bass Lake. One of the birds had a red squirrel in its beak and Sarah in it's claws said one distraught onlooker: "It was like a holy war, I swear it."

Neither the birds nor Sarah have been seen since. Sarah was in her fortieth year. Local residents are reminding neighbours to keep their cats inside until there is more information.

[sarahcsekey]

No Brakes

Sarah died in a speed-related accident early Sunday morning, 10.86 km from her home.

The mother of three had jumped on her pedal bike just after dawn that morning to escape the pulsating energy of the long Easter weekend at home.

The weather was so crisp, and the natural world so delightful, that Sarah was soon overcome with her glee.

Unused to being alone, Sarah did not think -- nor truly have the skills --to self-regulate her speed. Like the bad tiger in Little Black Sambo, Sarah rode so fast, she turned into a slick line of melted butter all down the 10th Line of Oro (almost to Coldwater). She was in her fortieth year.

A pancake breakfast will be held in her honour next weekend.

[sarahcsekey]

Lazy Farmer

A few times this winter (a winter that can only be termed as exhausting in length and depth) Sarah had been a little lazy. Getting the sheep and the horse from the barn to the pasture is a 500-foot run. The sheep are true to their animal reputation and run from barn to pasture and back again as if fixed on a line and pulley. The horse is different. The horse changes her mind without warning. The horse changes her mood in seconds and at other times weeks. Unpredictable and large, the horse scared Sarah. Because the horse is a daily crap shoot, she needs to be led on a line to her pasture and back. And this is where Sarah got lazy. One winter morning the horse was up whinnying on her back hooves in her barn stall. Not wanting to die of horse clobbering, Sarah opened the stall door and stood back, hoping for the best -- which happened. The horse straight ran to her pasture. This was such a nice change from the nerve-wracking event of leading her, Sarah did this same lazy thing each time the horse was snorting fire. And each time it worked. So it was lazy, but excusable when Sarah let the horse run free to the pasture early Thursday morning. Thursday was the same day the horse decided to change her plan. The horse took a sharp left turn off the path to the pasture and ran into the back forty, tossing her mane and whinnying her goodbyes. It wasn't the thought of losing the horse that killed Sarah. Sarah knew her lazy ways were about to be exposed. Her husband would be disappointed in her and her friends, who regarded her as a diligent worker would see her for her true self: lazy. As the horse ran out of reach, Sarah threw herself in the nearest ditch of mud and sank to death. She was in her fortieth year. Flowers are welcome.

[sarahcsekey]

Like a big, old balloon

Sarah died yesterday under unusual circumstances. Early reports indicate the official cause of death was Deflation.

“At first we just thought it was a used condom on the seat of her car, but then we looked closer and saw it was actually Sarah,” said the paramedic who responded to the 911 call by a passing driver. “Imagine she was a big, old balloon, right? And then got popped with a sharp pin? And the air all came out? That’s what it was.  And the leftovers of her were what we found.”

Investigators are putting a call out worldwide for help in this case. Although Deflation has been linked to more than 500 deaths in the past year, this is fairly new territory for forensic investigators in Orillia.

Before she deflated, Sarah had driven two of her three children to school and was en route to her job as a librarian. There were no indications of foul play, although detectives are actively looking for a sharp pin (or pins).

The family has asked for privacy at this time. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the local chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Deflated Mothers (SPODS). Sarah was in her fortieth year.

[sarahcsekey]

Church Death

Sarah died, in her fortieth year, of apparent spontaneous combustion in the Catholic Church during Palm Sunday mass. Sarah, a fairly lazy agnostic and baptized Anglican, was attending the mass dedicated to her mother-in-law's memory. Sitting in the pew between her youngest son and her sister-in-law's giant boyfriend, Sarah quietly turned into a pile of ashes after briefly resembling a ball of lightning. It is not known at this time whether this death was a result of the heat energy Sarah was generating in her effort to sit still and not roll her eyes at the priest during the two-hour mass, or whether it was a simple act of God's vengeance. Donations to the Guardian Angel's New Carpet Fund would be accepted in Sarah's memory.

[sarahcsekey]

Defrosted to Death

Sarah died of rancid food poisoning, self-inflicted by apparent slothfulness. Sarah had pulled two trays of Family Sized chicken halves from the freezer early that morning as a nod to domestic maintenance. Plans quickly gave way to chaos when Sarah realized her husband would see the chicken defrosting on the counter and might sound the alarm bells on safe food-handling violations. To avoid losing the shaky ground she had gained in the Ideal Wife department, cooking division, Sarah hid the jumbo-packs of frozen chicken in the oven for the day. The day-that-happened-away-from-home went on longer than Sarah had planned. By the time she rolled into the driveway, it was long past 7, and buckled into the passenger seat were four cheap pizzas and a 2 litre bottle of pop. Sarah remembered the raw chicken briefly as she tore and threw pizza slices at her family, but not wanting to own up to her lackadaisical food practices, she left it hidden in the cold oven. The chicken was finally shuttled into the fridge at 11 that night. Not wanting to earn the title of Wasteful, and not knowing how to erase her family's memory of the chicken in the fridge (and their anticipation of a yummy roasted bird), Sarah made the decision to cook the meat the next night. Surely the heat would kill the bacteria, she thought (noting this hypothesis in her cookbook). Unfortunately the chicken was rancid and Sarah was dead within minutes. No other family members were affected. Possibly because rancid food was too often on her menu and they had built a resistance. In lieu of flowers, donations to the Vegetarian Society of Oro would be appreciated.

[sarahcsekey]

Long Division

Over her morning coffee in her fortieth year, Sarah died of shame after bringing her youngest son to tears over long division homework. "She thought I didn't know anything," said 11-year-old Oscar. "She was so mad and I felt so dumb." It wasn't the early tears (that soaked the math book over questions 10 a through f) that inflicted her with the shame. Sarah kept hammering Oscar with questions as he cried and divided simultaneously. "She was erasing my work and slapping my book," Oscar said. "She said, 'My coffee is getting cold here!'" It was later, when the math book was soggy and Sarah was shouting calculations to be heard over the sobs, that the deadly shame hit Sarah like an anvil and she dropped to the kitchen floor. In lieu of flowers, donations to the East Oro After School Math Club would be appreciated.

[sarahcsekey]

Sweet Release

Dead…in her fortieth year, of a massive sugar overdose after ingesting a bowlful of maple-syrup soaked, torn up sugar-doughnut. Witnesses say she drank the leftover syrup and chased the bizarre breakfast with a cup of strong coffee. “I’m sure there was at least a cup of syrup in there,” said one shocked co-worker. “I mean, I know she made the syrup herself and everything, but Jesus! That was a bit much.” Sarah was said to have licked a hunk of sugar from the side of her mouth before collapsing on the floor of the staff room and expiring with a laugh. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the staff room chocolate fund.