Highlights and Lowlights

Are you a "Give me the bad news first" kind of person or do you need the good news front and center?

I don't really know which I am. So I'm unsure whats news to give you first.

I've been considering this post while I went through my day. And it was going to be all the funny things from the past week. And then my day spiraled out of control when I found myself standing on my front porch, yelling at my son who forgot the boyscout paperwork I told him not to forget. Of course he didn't hear because he was riding off in a suburban full of kids.

BTW, Jay Snell is a crazy, deaf driver.

Anywhoo. That wasn't fun.
So I called my son on his nicer-than-mine cell phone and told him he forgot the uber important paperwork. And his sister.
And apparently I said something about killing him because when I got off the phone, I heard my 3 year old doing a sing-songy version of, "I'm gonna kill you" and my 6 year old was saying, "Mom won't wheely kill him."
Let's call this a lowlight.

Highlight: My dinner was AWESOME! I may enter the Betty Crocker bake-off and become a famous, celebrity chef.
Or not.
 Either way, my homemade, totally from scratch chicken pot pie is enough to make Marie Callendar roll over in her cinnamon-scented grave.

BTW, I don't know, for a fact, if her grave smells like cinnamon. It's just a hunch.

Highlight: My husband and I went out to dinner everynight last week. EVERY NIGHT! It's like we are all in love again.
BTW, I think someone swiped my debit card and spent A LOT of money at restaurants.

Lowlight: At 5:30 tonight- with one hour until my big kids had to be out the door- while I had veggies  sautee-ing and I was rolling out pie crust, my husband- working late- asked me to find an email from a week ago, download all of the attachments and make 10 copies of each. AND have it all ready ASAP.  Then, THEN, while I was faux swearing about how brown my butter got, he called back with another email (from 3 weeks ago!!!) and more printing.
BTW, I didn't love him again until my potpie turned into bubbling perfection.

Highlight: My kids were on vacation last week. We all slept in every morning. It was bliss. Thursday,
I got up to use the restroom just as my little guy was stumbling, puffy faced and blinking, out of his room. I ran across my room, whispering loudly, "Hurry! Hide! Calvin is awake. Pretend your asleep!" My husband and I made a big production of pulling the covers over our head.
Calvin stood by my door, his blankie pooling at his feet and said, "Mom! It's not like I'm going to eat you."
BTW, it sounded more like he said "eat chew".

Highlight: Eric is 10. One morning during vacation,  he hugged my waist and told me he loved me without any warning. When I drop the kids off at school, Eric turns around no less than 3 times to wave good-bye.
BTW, I am taking applications for the position of Eric's wife. We are mormon so 3 lucky girls will win the title.
BTWFR (By the way for reals), just kidding.


Lowlight: My daughter, on her journey to finding her sense of humor, told me I'm not that ugly.
BTW, She looks just like me.
Ha! Who's laughing now, sweetheart!!

Highlight: Some stranger approached me and asked if my teenage son was mine. I said yes and this guy just started telling me what a great young man my son is. (I know I shouldn't end a sentance with a preposition.)
BTW, not all teenagers are scary.

Highlight: I found these heels.  

I texted this picture to my husband and to Kelly F. Kelly replied: "Buy them...absolutely. Your welcome."

My husband replied: "Don't know. Not enough skin showing to make a determination." 

Lowlight: They slipped in the heel when I walk. :(

Highlight?

Lowlight?
I'm giving up diet coke.
BTW, I'm serious.


Oh boy.....

Here Come Those Eyes...

This song has shaped my day. I loved it the second Pandora brought it to my attention this morning while I was doing breakfast dishes. Shortly after, my husband called and asked if I wanted to meet him for lunch.
Brillant!
This song got me to pay more attention to my appearance and to give him quite the "I made you a sandwich" kiss.

In the course of today, I have  thought about my husband and how he reacts to me; how he has always reacted to me.

 We met, kissed, got engaged and planned our life together all within, like, 5 minutes.
When it all falls into place that quickly, there isn't much time for him to pine for me. There's no time to mistake shyness for unrequited love.
So I have no choice but to day dream about what it would have been like if we had met at school- or working side by side at an ice cream parlor. You know, like everyone else.

I try to imagine my husband, Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected- the guy with a reptilian heartrate-the man who is all about a "measured response"- getting flustered or nervous. Being as honest as I can be in this forum, he's never caught off guard. He's never not in total control.
Ever.
Lucky for me, I have a fabulous imagination.
And in the course of fusing daydreams with the real life details, I mentally traveled back to the first time we met. Really met. Face to face. Not the time I saw him walk thru the room and not notice the girl who had just lost her heart to him.
In my awesome parallel reality, I didn't have a fat lip. And I wasn't wearing a scrunchie.
I sauntered.
I mesmorized.
I made his head spin.

In real reality, I knew he was planning to ask me out. Kelly had shown him my picture and established that if Bryan asked me out, I would say yes.
But, to my dismay, once he was around me, there was no mention of a date. I was left with no other conclusion than one involving  him not being into girls with fat lips and scrunchies.
Stephanie, my friend and ride, was leaving. I said my goodbyes and as I walked to the door, I was heavy hearted. Just as I was closing the door, Kelly called out, "Rachel, Bryan wants to ask you something."
I popped my head back into the room. Bryan asked me if I would like to go with him to San Francisco sometime soon.
I casually said, "I'd like that."
I was cautiously optomistic that maybe he did like me, at least a tiny bit.
And what do you know, a few weeks later, while I was starring at my engagement ring and we were re-living all 4 of our dates, he sheepishly admitted he was a little nervous to ask me out that first night.
 Huh.
Mr. Confidence- Mr. Always Ready For It All- wasn't ready for the girl with the fat lip and scrunchy.

Even my daydreams couldn't have beat that.

Let Me Tell You Something

At this very second, my husband is strumming  his guitar, making fun of our daughter. She was telling me about her favorite parts of "Farmer Boy" (from the Little House on the Prairie series). Every other word is, "Ahhh" and "Ummm".
My husband challenged her to continue her story telling without using"Ahhh" and "Ummm". All that did was make every other word a giggle. When she finished, I turned my attention to Toy Story 2. Calvin, 3 and fresh from the bath tub, has found a place in my bed watching the unstoppable duo of Woody and Buzz Lightyear.
Bryan grabbed his guitar and played some simple chords and turned Kennedy's story details into a song about "Ahh, Farrrrrmer Boy. Ummm. He sheered some, ummm, sheeeeep."

But that's not what I was going to blog about.

I was going to blog about what I love.
But that sounds kind of self centered. But I don't really care. This is my blog.
Sooo, I guess I'm back on track.

I love the color red.
And potato chips.
SmashBox Cosmetics. I buy them on QVC.
I love QVC.
We have an unhealthy relationship. The first thing I bought from QVC was a silver bracelet in 1989.
I have bought electronics, cleaning supplies, bras, shampoo, jewelry, fore-arm forklifts, tools, even perfume.
Who buys perfume on TV?
The same person who buys a cajun-spice injected turkey at Thanksgiving.
(Do not follow my lead.)
Multiple times in the course of  our TV viewing, I will say to my husband, "Turn it to QVC. Whatever it is, I'm going to buy 3 of them. One for me, one for your mom and one for Kelly."
He is always quick to oblige. And the best part is he knows the channel by heart. I never have to say, 'Turn in to channel 12, ya know, QVC."

I love putting on brand new socks.
I love Buzz Lightyear.
In fact, I think if I were any cartoon character, I would be him. Things just always work out for me, sometimes in the same hair-brained, "Of course I can fly. I'll prove it" way. I'm pretty sure if I jumped off the roof, I'd land on a giant hotwheels track and coast to a peaceful stop just at the end of the ramp. Or maybe I'd land smack on the ground with my leg beside me in a really gross way. But then I'd go to the hospital and they'd probably be filming a segment for a reality show and then Oprah would see me, invite me on her show and offer me a car.
Just to be clear, that has never happened.
But, like that funny designer lady on The Incredibles says, "Luck favors the prepared, Dahhhling."

I love bookstores.
I love waterbottles. I don't care what the research says. I think bottled water tastes waaaay better than tap. And I have excellant tap. But it'still second best.

Ok. Enough about me.
For now.

Elliot

Elliot is six.

This week, he has worked diligently to perfect his hawk cry. Or call. Or imitation.

He is getting ridiculously good at that piercing sound.

He was doing it again on the way to school this morning.

I asked him if he had shown his teacher his new trick.

He told me there is a no-hawk sound rule at school.

Who knew? 

Wednesday, Around 2pm

Some words and thoughts from my day (not in chronological order):

Calvin (3): "Mom can I have more pancakes pleeeeeeese"
Me: "Sorry. I don't have any more pancakes."
Calvin: "Poop!"

Me (while on the phone with Kelly): "What happened to PotteryBarn. There stuff used to be so cute. It's kind of lame now."
Kelly: "You've graduated to Restoration Hardware."



Kelly: "My house is thrashed. I have so much to do I don't know where to start. I'm sort of walking around aimlessly. Do you ever do that?"
Me: "No. I'm great when it's a total disaster; I dive right in. It's when it's only a little messy that I drop the ball. I think I'm just comfortable with a certain amout of mess. "



At the crack of dawn I was driving my son to school. I don't know how or why but I started thinking about Hummers. Weird, right? Those big, boxy SUVs. I thought about how they went belly-up (I love that phrase and use it as much as possible. You should, too.)
Why did they go belly-up? Is it because it seemed like only arrogant, douch-baggy guys bought them?
Can a stereo type bring down an entire company in a capitolistic society?
No. No way.
And then I was done thinking about it.
And I dropped my son off for the day.
I was driving back home, plotting my first trip of the day for a fresh diet coke. Will Mr. Hetman be there?
He's my favorite convienence store cronie.
Suddenly, with out warning, a car pulled out in front of me.
I slammed on the brakes, not good considering the icy roads.
And what do you know? It wasn't just any car.
It was a Hummer.

What a douche bag.


PS- if anyone has a better non-swear alternative to douche bag, I'm all ears.





 

For You, Mackenzie. With Love.

My young friend Mackenzie is at the precious stage in life when love is just around the corner.
Or building. Maybe just on the other side of the door. Who knows. And that's what makes youth so fun. Because it's all still possible. Because I can resist her in nothing, this post is a small moment taken from my personnal fairy tale. And what a tale it has been...so far.

You should know, I am not an avid journaler. I joke that Bryan and I are still dating in my journal. Certainly I have the tax returns and children to prove otherwise, but according to that book on the shelf, we just met.
Before I fell in love, I dreamed about love. I petitioned for it, hoped for it and got lost in the notion that someday, I would be in love. And loved in return.
One of my few journal entries, September 17, 1993, is a detailed account of all my wishes.
And it is nausiatingly sweet and hopeful.
Even better than that is Sept. 15, 1993 where I list, by name, every boy I ever kissed. All 8 of them.
I even rate them. There's a couple of "Oh, gross, gross" and two "good"s.
Heaven help me. I was only 18 so I'm trying to cut myself some slack.

But, back to the 17th.

"I can't wait 'til I'm a mom and I can cook dinner for my husband and our children. I want us to all sit at the table and talk about our day."
"I can't wait to fingerpaint and teach them how to write in cursive. I can't wait to go to the grocery store and fill up two shopping carts. I can't wait to put almost 20 grocery bags in the back of my station wagon." (Seriously, who is excited about a station wagon?)
I go on and on. And on. I describe what I think he'll be like and "wouldn't it be great if he loved me right away and I didn't realize it but that because he's so awesome I would be crazy about him and still have no clue he likes me back."

I needed a nap after just listening to myself.

I sign off  a different journal entry with "I have the song from 'Sleeping Beauty' in my head. 'I know you I've walked with you once upon a dream. I know you the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...."

I have a few minor entries after that entry.
In a matter of weeks I met Bryan and quite frankly, fell so hard and so fast, I didn't have time to document my descent.

And then one day, 3 weeks after we met, he asked me to marry him. We had real, honest conversation about it. We kissed and laughed and talked. And kissed and laughed and talked. And then I locked myself in my room without music or TV or phone or food or water. And I thought.
All day long.
I studied all I knew about him. I studied all I knew about me.
And I thought back to out first date. I recalled how surprised I was that he was so into classical music. And that he ordered duck at dinner. And he was fluent in French. And had lived in Bangkok and Singpore.And France and Switzerland.
All I had to offer was a simple upbringing in Hollister.
How could this work?
I lay on my bed going thru our dates. It was easy. We had only been on like, 10. With perfect recall, I remembered stepping off of the curb in San Fransisco and how he pulled be back quickly when a car sped by. I remembered how he was humming a classical tune from Tchichovsky. The music used in Disney's "Sleeping Beauty."
I turned to my journal. I started at page one. I read all my silly entries.
I read, like I would be tested later, the entry about all of my hopes and dreams regarding love.
And there it was. A reference to "Sleeping Beauty."

Of course, you know how this ends.

I said yes.
We said I do.
On September 17, 1994.
Isn't that wild?

CORRECTION:

He never lived in Bangkok. He was just visiting Malaysia.

This I did not know.

But now I do.

And apparently my post makes it sound like he asked me to marry him and then I closed the door on him and immediately turned the lock.

That is an awesome visual.

But there was a couple of days between the talking and the locking.

Let Me Just Say.....Ummm. Give Me A Minute. It'll Come To Me.

I have blogger's block.
I have a zillion thoughts.
I have pictures I could post, stories I could relay.
But I'm not feelin' it.
Maybe it's the winter-time blues.
Except I'm not sad.
I don't know.
But I feel like I should say something.
It's awesomely narcissistic to think that you want me to say something.
SOMETHING BIG!!!
Something like, "Did I ever tell you about the time I sat next to Huey Lewis?"
And I would add that it was in the 80's which made is down-right magical.

Maybe I could blog about...geez. I don't even have enough to finish this sentance.
What if the diet coke has fried my brain?
I always knew it would.
But SO SOON?!

How about I tell you all the things I would change about myself if it took no effort what-so-ever.
Excellant idea.

1. I'd have muscle definition. Who the heck cares about the scale. I'll take whatever the number is if I could see the outline of anything on my body besides remnants of pizza and brownies.

2. I'd have a masters in anything. Bugs, history, economics, religion. Don't really care to know what it would be in. Just would like to have done it.

3. I would have all my pictures organized. The real ones and the digital.
 It's like a pipe-dream I carry around with me everywhere.

4. I'd put said uber-organized pictures up on my blog at various times and they could enhance my opinions. But, with a masters in All-Kinds-of-Useful-Information, my words wouldn't need enhancing.

5. I'd be a vegetarian.

6. I'd be a former vegetarian who remembered how much she loves rib eye steak.

7. I'd knit things.

8. I'd blog everyday.

I am very well. I really hope you are too.