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Saturday, December 24, 2005

I'm -- not -- really -- your -- procrastinating -- Mommy

In the annals of my family history, there is an incident that still stands out vividly in the minds of everyone involved. My brother, my dad, and I were tooling down the road in our pickup truck -- I was maybe eight so my brother was maybe ten -- when my dad, who likes a practical joke as much as the next guy, turned to us and said in this Frankenstein-ish voice, "I'M ... NOT ... REALLY ... YOUR ... DADDY ... I'M ... REALLY ... AN ... ALIEN...!" I think the response was more than he bargained for, as my brother was groping for the door handle in preparation for jumping out of the moving truck.

I tried this on my kids, in a watered-down form, and they just laughed. Today, however, if I said it to, say, my mom, or my sister-in-law, or my high-school chemistry teacher, they would totally fall for it. Why? Because I, who never did my homework if there was something more pressing (like, say, staring out the window at a blank wall) to do, who never have all the projects to put in the fair that I say I will, who occasionally still show up to a Bible study without a chapter summary because I put it off till the last minute -- I have all my Christmas ducks in a row a full day ahead of time.

I know. I should have warned you so you could have been sitting down. I'm sorry. But the sewing projects are done (have been for almost a week), the presents are wrapped, everything's sitting nicely under the tree waiting for tomorrow morning. All I have to do today is bake a cheesecake in case C is well enough to go to her immunocompromised grandmother's house for Christmas dinner tomorrow, and then tonight I have to fill T's stocking, and that's all. I could conceivably be in bed at nine or some totally unnatural hour like that.

That is, if I don't decide to stick to my original resolution to have that dratted typing project done before Christmas. But maybe I'll just put that off.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

well, it wasn't a ridgepole...

The reason it hurts me to type this is that I was taking a picture, and I was standing on top of a fence (shut up. everyone stands up on a fence to take a picture now and then, right?) and when I went to move to get down, there was a rotten board, and I fell from about four feet up and landed on my back on the edge of an open metal trash can.

Yeah, I flinched too. Even just typing it.

I tore a muscle or something (nice attractive ridge of swelling going across the right-hand side of my back; the bruises are going to be amazing, I can tell), and hence I can't use my right arm much at all. As soon as we get home from voting, I'm going to seek oblivion with a muscle relaxant and a soft, horizontal surface. Hey, at least I won't have to fold laundry for a while.

P.S. The Nikon is fine (whew!).

P.P.S. Here's the picture. For what it's worth.

Friday, September 23, 2005

because I'm myself...

I'm all packed and ready to go, with a duffel bag by the door with a sleeping bag and pillow on top just like a junior high kid heading off to Methodist church camp; I've tidied the house, and even done a little reorganizing, so that it's not TOO much to expect it to be reasonably tidy in two days when I get back. I am leaving in an hour and a half, after the Jane-Austen-film-adaptation-assisted laundry-folding spree on which I'm about to embark. And five minutes ago I got a strong, distinct, solid, acid-reflux-inducing conviction that I've forgotten something essential -- either something I'm supposed to do here at home before I go, or something I'm supposed to pack. Tonight at approximately 11:15 I will remember it, whatever it is. I hope it's not something that results in some sort of disaster on the level of, say, a conflagration that consumes our home.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

misadventures with the nikon

Today was a gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous day. Bright blue sky, puffy white clouds, temperatures in the 70's, the whole thing. T was home and I was out for a walk when I decided to sit down in front of the courthouse, set up my camera on its mini tripod, and take the time-lapse cloud-motion video I've wanted to take (with the courthouse in the foreground) since I got my camera. So I went to the library, conveniently located right across the street from my planned subject, and I got a few books. (Since apparently September is Kidlit Month for me, I got two E.L. Konigsburgs that I'd never heard of, along with The Secret Life Of Bees, which I keep thinking I should probably read, but never actually do.) I set things up and had a pleasant two hours of quiet solitude, during which someone played the bagpipes across the square at the funeral parlor for a funeral, which made me cry a little, because my ordinary day was someone else's really sad day, which is, of course, always the case anytime anyone has an ordinary day. Anyway. At the end of the two hours, I stopped the movie, took a few more pictures, and looked at the results before packing up to walk home.

Which was when I realized I hadn't locked the auto-exposure to match the first frame, so the whole Quicktime movie had this really annoying flashing sort of strobe effect as the exposure changed due to the (frequent) movement of clouds between myself and the sun. Nice.

Then just as I got home and thought about sitting down to watch the strobe-ish video clip, I realized that I'd taken it in a vertical orientation, which made for the best composition, except that it also made for a sideways orientation when viewed on the screen, since as far as I know you can't rotate video files with any of the software I have (read: anything free). The funny thing about this is that I had just read a discussion about this very mistake on a photography-related e-list, and thought, whew, I'd better watch out because that sounds very much like something I'd do. Apparently I was right.

THEN, sometime between my camera and the memory card reader, the video file and half of the photos I'd taken on my walk were rendered unreadable while they were still on the memory card. FANtastic.

Ah well. At least I got to sit in the shade for two hours and read, before I came back to a house where everyone has been a bit on edge all evening, mostly because nobody got enough sleep last night, what with girls giggling till just before eleven, and me reading until two, and the boys coming home from the observatory at three, and LT and his friend and C and her friends all getting up at eight to play. Oh, yes, I am so ready to collapse in a sea of oblivion and rejoice that this day is at least finally over.

Friday, September 02, 2005

If my head were not bolted on

JUST TODAY (and it is only 10:22 AM as I type this), so far, I have lost:

1) My library card. (eventually found in the change compartment of my purse.)

2) The cordless phone, about four times.

3) My purse, three times. And the thing is... I haven't moved it. I just keep forgetting where it is.

4) Our water bill. NO CLUE where it is. Important documents should always be printed on fluorescent-colored paper, don't you think? Man, that would make my life so much easier.

5) My gas card (not that I could afford to use it). Called to request a new one. It was cracked anyway; that's my excuse.

6) a new little vat of Carmex, purchased yesterday.

Also in the last couple of weeks I've lost one of my two mini-tripods (the one I liked better), a tube of Chapstick (see above re: "Carmex, purchased yesterday"), and innumerable hair elastics.

It's a good thing T's here to keep an eye on the kids; otherwise I'd probably lose them too (actually I DID think that LT was outside working on his fort for half an hour when really he was sitting silently on the couch behind me, reading The Hardy Boys). I am hoping that somewhere buried in all this clutter I'll actually find my mind, which I've evidently lost as well, but I'm not counting on it.

Sunday, July 31, 2005

the conspiracy of inanimate things continues

I just want to go on record as saying the following: I strongly suspect that our family's barbecue grill is a sentient being, and that it hates me with a flaming orange passion and wishes me ill with every particle of its essence. The chicken never catches on fire when anyone else is cooking it.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Resolutions

Kristen has the gall (and good fortune) to MOVE AWAY FROM CALIFORNIA. I mean, come on, it's not like I have friends coming out my EARS here, and she's taking one of them all the way across the country. That is not very nice.

However, it happens that she'll be nearer to my neck of the woods than usual before she goes, so it is possible that I may be able to travel to San Francisco and meet her. So, in the event that that should occur, here are my Serious Resolutions.

1. I will not snort when I laugh (please God).
2. I will attempt to assess at least a few the things I am going to say before I say them, so as to avert a small amount of the usual self-flagellation on the way home over having said really goofy embarrassing things.
3. I cannot guarantee I will not be clumsy. I do, however, resolve to avoid injuring Kristen, if at all possible.
4. I will try (although it will be hard) not to drive Kristen crazy with my whole stopping-every-three-seconds-to-take-a-photograph habit. Although I think I may as well apologize in advance for breaking this one. Sorry, Kristen.
5. I will not say "crap" or "freaking". I do, when I'm nervous. Some women giggle. I pseudo-swear.
6. I will not get so involved in conversation that I lose my children. Hey, it could happen.
7. I will occasionally stop for breath, and to let Kristen get a few words in. She may have to smack me a few times until I remember this one, though.

P.S. On a totally unrelated note, I could use your help over at my photo blog in the next few days. Please?

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

such a Rachel-ish thing to do

This is so embarrassing that I almost couldn't blog about it.

Almost.

Anyone who's read this journal for oh, say, three nanoseconds knows that I am, well, not exactly graceful. And that's putting it really nicely. I usually manage to keep my klutzishness to a livable level, with only occasional embarrassing moments, which I hope I manage to have in separate locations most of the time, so that it's not always the same people seeing me make hideous writhe-worthy mistakes.

Which means that I think maybe I should never go back to our grocery store again. Can I move to a different town? Because tonight I dashed out to the store to buy a Cadbury Roast Almond bar and a bag of Jolly Ranchers (yes, as a matter of fact, I DO have a transcribing job I'm starting tonight), and some coffee and apples and a magazine for T. On my way out of the store, after I swiped the wrong side of my ATM card through the machine which was embarrassing enough in its own small way (I think a three-year-old knows which way to orient an ATM card in the swiping thingamabob), I was carrying my bag of groceries in one hand and sort of leading the cart out of the store with the other (because I'm not the high-maintenance sort of person who leaves the cart there at the checkstand for the prepubescent bagger to have to push outside), when the cart banged into the sliding door of the store and knocked it off its track. Not only the door that slides, but the stationary door behind it. And of course these aren't your simple little roller doors like you have in your shower or closet. These are heavy-duty whack-proof-except-when-Rachel's-around pieces of equipment. And I managed to, um, well.

That's right, people, I BROKE THE STORE.

(The one door went back on its track-thingie really easily; I pushed it back on right away. And the manager, a stock boy, and a customer with a screwdriver worked together to fix the other one, while I stood there with my very best "please don't sue me" look on my face. So it's not like, you know, I'm going to have to pay to replace it or whatever. But augh, I will have to shop there again someday, because while I actually like the owners better at the only other store in town, it can not be relied upon to have any given perishable item on any given day, and it never has fresh broccoli. I will never EVER live this down.)

Sunday, June 26, 2005

sigh

T is still gone. He'll probably come home tomorrow night at his regular time. We hope. He was supposed to have a four-day weekend (well, Thursday he had to go to the lab, so he took it off, but whatever) and ended up getting called on Friday evening to go in early Saturday. So the last any of us saw him was Friday night, because no, I did NOT manage to stay up till 3:30 and make him pancakes. I've done it before in situations like this but I just couldn't this time; I was nodding off sitting up, and finally headed to bed around 12:30 or 1:00 in a sleepy haze of guilt.

I have a papercut (from a paper plate. What kind of person gets papercuts from a paper plate? Oh yeah, me. Nevermind) right in that web of skin between my finger and thumb on my left hand. A papercut has always been right up there with a hangnail as favorites for sarcastic excuses for getting out of work, as if they're these negligible little nothings. Well, I did do some work today, but I am here to tell you that papercuts and hangnails hurt. They really do. Whine.

Also, VBS starts tomorrow (that's Vacation Bible School, which lasts a week and takes all morning, for those of you who are either child-free or not from the Evangelical Christian planet). I did not sign up to help this year, but odds are I'll be helping anyway, since I have nothing else to do during the four-hour duration of the event. I'm certainly not driving home (15 miles) and back (15 miles again) when I don't have to and gas is still at European-style prices. The night before something like this I always dread it, and try to figure out ways to wiggle out of it, but the fact is that the kids are really looking forward to it. Well, C is. I think LT could probably do without VBS just fine and never miss it, but C is a little social animal who loves her fun and games. And once I'm actually there I'm always glad we went.

However. I have been a good girl this weekend and actually stuck to my diet, overall. I hate that word -- it's right up there with "blog" -- but it sounds even lamer to say something else, like "healthy eating plan" or what have you. So diet it is. For those of you who joined us late, I lost 30 pounds in the fall/winter of 2003/2004. Which is great, except that I wanted to lose 45 pounds, but I just sort of stopped at 30, way back over a year ago, last spring, and in the last few months I've actually gained five pounds back, and that is just purely unacceptable. So this past weekend has been that really fun time at the beginning of a new way of eating when you're basically starving all the time, especially in the afternoons and evenings, when I feel like I could eat a Mack truck if someone would deep-fry it and serve it with ranch sauce for dipping. If I hang in there for a week it'll get better, I know this, but augh. Oh, wait, that was a happy thing. Yay.

And I've been catching up on laundry. And the house is clean. I figure the least I can do for a man who leaves the house at 4:00 to go work two or three nineteen-hour days to feed our family when he thought he'd be at home relaxing (well, working. On projects. But... whatever. It's relaxing to HIM) is to have the house comfortable for him when he walks in. Now watch, tomorrow it'll get totally destroyed just in time for him to come in the door.

And I watched "The Phantom of the Opera" again tonight. My new favorite part this time was the Don Juan scene where the Phantom has just offed the male lead guy and taken his place on the stage and he's singing and Christine and Raoul and Madame Giry and Mssrs. Firmin and André have all just figured that out and the tension is just palpable and augh must NOT put it in again must NOT must go to BED.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

I'm still alive

Ever have one of those days where every single thing you do seems to go wrong, but not in a big life-altering way, just a little driving-you-absolutely-out-of-your-skull-insane kind of way?

If you haven't, don't tell me, OK?

Yesterday I burned myself twice (splattering grease from frying bacon beside my eye, AND scalding coffee all down the front of me because I was drinking from a thermos wrong, shut up, ANYONE could drink from a thermos wrong), spilled things a huge number of times, tripped a lot, and generally acted like a person in a cartoon while people politely pretended not to notice (at least I didn't burn the london broil. Yes, I used the barbecue. Maybe I had a death wish, I dunno.). I considered staying in bed this morning but figured that if I did, before long the whole thing would somehow manage to collapse and then we'd have to buy a new bed on top of everything else.

So far, today, I haven't endangered myself too much. I did catch my toe on the edge of the sidewalk while I was out walking and let out a loud yelp while I narrowly avoided landing on my face, but fortunately nobody was around. I think. At least I didn't hear anyone laughing.

Stupid Things Rachel Does Archives | Page 2 of 5

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