Rachelskirts

Never Saw Things Going So Right

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 19:58:41 -0600

I haven't done a single thing on my summer to-do list yet, despite being invited to fly a kite and despite driving through the (full! no room at the inn! pack your bags and move to Cali, sucker!) parking lot of the library. No French phrases have been learned, and no letters have been written to my amazing, lovely grandmother. As far as someone is concerned, my summer has been a heaping pile of failure.

But oh man, that someone would be so, so wrong. I have witnessed some of the most beautiful sunsets just by looking out my bedroom window. I have sat on the front porch and read Pride and Prejudice with the hummingbirds.

I have come inside to find freshly made brownies being brought to my room. I have welcomed back one of my favorite friends after his year-long stay in Scotland. I find myself the lucky recipient of some of the best gifts of all time.

Tomorrow night, I will carry on the tradition of Friday Night Date Night with my mom, complete with Panera, Gilmore Girls, and way too much ice cream. On Sunday, I will sit on the grass and listen to Pink Martini. On Thursday, I will meet some of my favorite twenty-something bloggers for a fantastic weekend in Chicago. On Monday, I will collapse into my brand new bed and take a nap with my favorite cat.

I don't know about you, but I hope this summer never ends.

Balance

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 23:31:29 -0600

It seems that I will never get the hang of folding fitted sheets, conversing cordially about politics, or avoiding alliteration. However, I have impeccable handwriting, can play piano upside down and right-side up, and will always love you.

World's Best Dad

Sat, 30 May 2009 11:00:17 -0600

My dad is cooler than your dad for a multitude of reasons, but one of them is that he is comprised of a mostly unending supply of thoughtfulness and generosity and patience. My mom and I are still doing our Friday date nights, which sticks my dad in charge of watching the super! hyper! puppy! at the end of a long week.

But every Friday, he stops down at just the right moment, after we've finished our Panera dinners, finished our ice cream, and laughed and cried our way through three episodes of Gilmore Girls. As he hunches over the water cooler to fill his glass, he asks us if he can get us anything hot to drink.

"Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?"

My mom bends her hands to indicate a T or C, depending on her mood, and I fumble to find a way to make an H with one hand and a C with the other. Inevitably failing, I shout out, "Hot chocolate, please!"

And every week, my dad makes my mom's drink first because he loves her the mostest. Then he gets out the gourmet hot chocolate from the pantry — the gourmet hot chocolate he bought specifically for me because he loves me a lot — and he heats up the milk and makes hot chocolate "the fancy way." He offers me a sip to test the temperature and the level of chocolatosity. After everything is right, he goes the extra mile and adds whipped cream and chocolate syrup to the top, just to make it special.

Thanks, Daddy. I love you, too.

Hide the Knives

Sun, 24 May 2009 22:59:36 -0600

Watching the setting sun tonight, I found myself getting mad at Crayola for daring to try to capture the brilliance of nature in colored wax sticks. I have no idea why I was so outraged by this. I can only say that last week tried to suck out my soul, and this week doesn't seem to be off to a better start. On the bright side, thinking about Crayola crayons reminded me of coloring books, which got me thinking about all the carefree fun I want to have this summer. And it's really, really hard to stay mad while thinking about flying kites and looking at something so gorgeous.

Long story short: I almost stabbed you, but I decided to give you a hug instead.

Lunch Break

Sat, 23 May 2009 15:25:15 -0600

On Thursday, I saw a man who was riding a bicycle. He had a parrot riding on his shoulder. My friend rolled down the car window and told the man how much she liked his bird. "Thank you," he replied in Heath Ledger's voice with Heath Ledger's accent. Parrot Man is probably the coolest person we've ever met.

American History: Bacon and Peglegs

Wed, 20 May 2009 20:54:11 -0600

Find yourself in a blogging rut? Try studying! I haven't been able to think about anything but writing a blog entry for two days! I have a telecourse to start and finish within the next week, but the only notes I took during the first set of DVDs (which my super awesome brother, Adam, watched with me) were funny quotes that I wanted to remember to tweet later. Oops! Anyway, I've decided to post them for you here instead. Enjoy!

Quotes from Us:

Who knew that God wore Transitions lenses?
Something something Carrot Top's mom. Wait, is Carrot Top two words? I can't believe I just Googled that.
He sounds like Cleveland from Family Guy! But with a speech impediment.
Dude, it is like a rabbit's foot exploded from his chin.
Why do they all have bad beards?

Quotes from Narrators:

Bacon himself is such a young whippersnapper.
He stormed and peglegged around.

Words That Didn't Sound Legit But Actually Are:

Triumphalist.
Contradistinction.

Congratulations! Now you know as much about U.S. history as I do. Go run for office!

In Which Obesity and Poverty Just Got Easier

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 13:30:02 -0600

Chase just sent me a new credit card in the mail today, and it has one of those little chips in it that says, "I'm too lazy to actually swipe my card and sign my name. I would like an easier way to bury myself in debt. Perhaps I can just prop my fat rolls against the counter here, so the magic card reader can detect the magic fairy dust in my piece of plastic." All I have to do is half-heartedly hold my card near the reader and wait for some lights to flash. That's it. What does that mean for me? Buying my weight in tacos and cinnamon twists will now require zero effort. Awww yeah. Time to go stimulate that economy.

Had Me a Blast

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 19:54:30 -0600

Summer To-Do List:

Take Latin ballroom dancing lessons.
Bring baked goods to an elderly neighbor.
Convert all our old home videos to digital formats.
Scan in all our picture albums and organize them in a Flickr account.
Learn five new phrases in French.
Spend an evening looking at stars through the telescope with my dad.
Stop by the local library once a week to learn something new.
Have a picnic in the park, complete with basket and checkered blanket.
Dance in the rain.
Eat a funnel cake at the county fair with my mom.
Visit at least two museums.
Write a letter to my grandmother every week.
Finish reading all the books I've started over the years.
Challenge my little brother to a game of HORSE.
Make s'mores.
Create a giant mural on the driveway using chalk.
Host a barbecue.
Build a sandcastle.
Catch fireflies.
Fly a kite.

I might not do even half the things on that list, but it's fun to imagine a cheery, golden summer so full of fun that I am constantly sore from laughter. What would be on your ideal summer to-do list?

Hold the Humidity, Please

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 22:22:02 -0600

The robins have returned, and the calendar haughtily declares that spring started weeks ago. I have tickets to a Cubs game in a few weeks, but it wasn't until I finally broke down and bought some Claritin on Saturday afternoon that I accepted the arrival of my third-favorite season.

Truthfully? I'm already fed up with it. I want to skip past the fickle weather and the debilitating pollen and the inevitable heartbreak. Just give me seventy-five degree weather with plenty of sunshine and a steady stream of warm breezes. Give me Blues Fest and Jazz Fest and Ravinia. Let's eat outside for lunch and listen to baseball on the radio in the afternoon. Grab a book and sit with me on the porch swing. My dad will make us fresh lemonade or homemade chocolate malts. If you're not afraid of bees, you can grab some fresh raspberries from the yard to share with the dog.

I will pay $5 to the first person who can deliver summer to my doorstep. Offer ends June 21.

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 23:59:54 -0600

A good friend recently confronted me about the way I talk to and about boys. He pointed out all the blog posts and Twitter updates about imaginary (and, on a very rare occasion, not-so-imaginary) make-out sessions, and how I tend to fantasize about any hot guy who crosses my path. I hadn't really found anything wrong with that before, but it slowly dawned on me what a terrible habit that is to be establishing. Obviously, if I ever nab a boyfriend or (gasp!) a husband, I can't be writing love letters to other cute boys on the internet anymore.

Now, I don't like giving away blog secrets like this, but I never actually wanted anything to happen with Panera Kyle or Cute Tuesday Boy or Hotsauce. It's just that, in my 23 years of being single, I've allowed myself to view plotting out my romantic future as a game. A pathetic, lonely game. Hi, I am destined to be a cat lady, so I might as well imagine having a wonderful life with each lovely guy I pass. After all, that's as close as I'll ever get!

Granted, my head is not full of negative thoughts like that (except perhaps after I've watched a romantic movie). However, it is the mindset I've been operating under for a long time — that it is acceptable to have a wonderful life in the fantasy world I've created in my head even if it's at the expense of my real life. Which, for the record, is also wonderful a lot of the time.

That isn't good at all, whether it's related to the subject of boys or any other part of my life I could imagine improving in some way. I'm grateful for the much-needed wake-up call, since I don't want to be one of those people who spends all my time dreaming and none of my time living. The challenge will be to see if I can carry these thoughts out in a meaningful way instead of just filling up more space on the internet.

What do you think? Have you been living out your dreams or simply dreaming your life away? How likely is it that Elijah Wood will want to help me live out my dreams? Is the Muffin Man immortal, or is it just a title that gets passed along from one man to the next (like the Dread Pirate Roberts)? Discuss.

If James Bond Was a Cat Lady

Sat, 04 Apr 2009 23:43:50 -0600

A crumb has been sitting beneath the G key on my laptop for three weeks now. For much of that time, I have been annoyed and sometimes even angered by its presence. Today, however, I decided to embrace the situation at hand. I welcomed the crumb to the family, named it Gus Gus, and invited it out for a cup of tea.

And then I cackled and promptly drowned the amiable fool.

Journal Excerpts, March 2009

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 22:15:23 -0600

Telling someone that she has a distinctive walk is a fabulous way to guarantee that she will never feel as if she is walking normally again.

Friendship bracelets are extremely difficult to put on by oneself, but they fall off like overzealous lemmings or gangrenous appendages. Ingenious metaphor for friendships themselves or crazy coincidence?

Angel food cake without Cool Whip is worthless. See also: pound cake without powdered sugar.

What really makes me happy is basking alone in the afternoon sun with some playful jazz floating softly along with the breeze, lazily stirring through my thoughts as they simmer in my head.

Committing to the fantasy and ignoring the reality is much easier than committing to the reality and ignoring the fantasy.

For future study: Is there a correlation between boys who burp like wusses and boys who are spineless, annoying pansies? Can it truthfully be said that boys who burp well are worthy of love and adoration? Finally, is it possible to teach a boy to burp well?

zomg, diary. What on earth am I going to say to Elijah Wood on Twitter to set me apart from the thousands of insipid, moronic fangirls undoubtedly clamoring for his attention?

ARG. BOYS.

Team Best Friends

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 10:16:18 -0600

The old saying mentions something about picking friends and something about picking noses. I could easily look up the exact quote, but I'd rather just tell you that I am blessed with some awesome friends who have awesome noses.

Behold! Here sit three boys who drove one thousand miles from Longview, TX, to Skirtsville, IL, to play Mario Kart with me in a park. If that doesn't rock your socks, then I want nothing to do with your friendship or your nose.

A good amount of time was also spent playing Mario Party 7, watching Terminator DVDs and old Disney movies on VHS, burping in each others' faces, and talking about cartoons and dragons. A fourth friend drove out from Ohio to spend the first part of the week with us, which led to bowling and friendship bracelets and the formation of Team Best Friends.

There might have also been drinks at the top of the Hancock Center on St. Patrick's Day, but nobody can say for sure. All I know is that I would probably give up my own nose just to spend time with these boys, who definitely rank among the world's best friends . . . even if they do sometimes wipe their boogers on my sleeve.

When the Day Met the Night

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 12:50:02 -0600

Instead of going to class, she sits in the school parking lot and listens to jazz. For one blissful hour, the sunlight is her only company. The happy pair sit in silence, reveling in the beauty around them and exchanging secret, knowing smiles.

Then the cell phone rings, the clouds roll in, and life elbows her in the ribs like an unpleasantly inebriated uncle.

I Live in a Pineapple Under the Sea

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 00:46:24 -0600

Things I Learned This Weekend:

Old ladies from church do not like tattoos or nose piercings.
Old ladies from church are not sure what to think of me now that they know about my tattoo.
Old ladies from church sure do like to talk about dogs.
Old ladies from church are blind and should not be making jewelry.
Making jewelry at 9 a.m. on a Saturday is less fun than making jewelry at 9 p.m. on a Saturday.
Saturday mornings without cartoons are STUPID.
Breakfast pastries do wonders to improve my mood.
Some boys think I have a nice butt.
Compliments also do wonders to improve my mood.
I am extremely paranoid that the old ladies will (a) find out that I talk to boys and (b) ban me from church.
Writing a bullet point about my butt between bullet points about church members makes me extremely uncomfortable.
New subject: my fish is still alive.