tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35509861288556841372012-02-17T20:10:16.071-06:00Feel free to buy me something prettyRachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.comBlogger5531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-90121233321413399472012-02-15T22:37:00.008-06:002012-02-15T22:46:44.578-06:00

The sound of my children playing together brings such joy to my heart. Then it's punctured by the sounds of angry reprimands to each other."YOU DON'T HAVE TO TALK TO ME LIKE I'M STUPID!" and"I'm done! I'm going to my room."That's more like it. I thought we were on the cusp of the apocalypse.Is it selfish to try to convince Ben to play basketball rather than soccer next year in high school? No?

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-39754535478591444792012-02-08T18:31:00.007-06:002012-02-08T19:45:11.591-06:00

I don't keep it any secret that I don't like to eat other people's food at potlucks. Especially at potlucks. It is a nerve-wracking experience. At the last potluck, it took two hours of convincing myself that I could find something to eat that wasn't homemade like whole vegetables or cut fruit. In the end, I couldn't do it. People have tried to be helpful and say, "Don't think about it, man" and

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-5285144237038705972012-02-07T21:47:00.006-06:002012-02-07T22:18:41.348-06:00

I had this unfortunate accident last April that prevented me from continuing my running program. It was called Remodeling. The HOA decided it was time to interrupt the fitness regime I'd carefully designed (run 3 miles/don't puke) by demolishing the workout room. Sure, I could have continued to get up at 5 a.m. and just walk around the neighborhood or -- gasp -- run outside. But it's all or

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-13031571969296884152012-01-31T20:54:00.002-06:002012-01-31T21:21:31.869-06:00

Lab occurs at 7 o'clock SHARP on Monday nights. I have one of those professors who is hell bent on giving us our money's worth. What if I only want like $25 worth? Because I would be okay with that. Like a prorated amount. By the time 9:50 rolls around, I want to weep bitterly into my coffee that is waiting for me at home, calling to me like a black viscous beacon of caffeinated splendor. Last

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-10604021895728336092012-01-23T22:48:00.007-06:002012-01-24T22:03:46.291-06:00

If I didn't think I had it in me to hate any more subjects, science comes along and reminds me, "Hey, you suck. And I saw the dress you wore to church Sunday. Your butt is flat."I started the last class of my required basics this semester, and it had to be an Earth science with a lab. I'm sure they all come with a lab because what would misery be without an extra helping of more of the freaking

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-3448749421355737132012-01-21T22:10:00.002-06:002012-01-21T23:20:53.915-06:00

Rachel Tonight was not a shining moment in parenting or even being a functioning human. I pouted because I didn't get my way. I slammed things around in an angry fashion while making dinner. I wanted to start drinking about 3 this afternoon. I thought about running away to Mexico. I'm lucky I didn't have an aneurysm. I've lamented before about the lack of realism on Facebook. Everyone wants to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-14025388887305601572012-01-17T22:32:00.005-06:002012-01-17T22:56:30.039-06:00

It's not really the first day of the rest of my life because I had that day several years ago when I decided to go back to school and git me some fancee book larnin' yuz guyz ar always tawkin' 'bout. I want to be smart like that.I hate the first day of school in college. It's not like 6th grade where you see whose class you're in and who will be there with you. There's no shopping for new school

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-45511071148373566542012-01-08T22:54:00.003-06:002012-01-08T23:27:07.007-06:00

During the service at church this morning, the pastor mentioned that he was going on a trip to Israel soon and he was going to be in charge of tips. I thought, "Well, that seems apropos since he's a pastor and all. He seems like he'd give good tips."Then he said that he was in contact with the travel agent and they gave him all the tips and he was in charge of handing them out to the cab driver,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-91816090935710650782012-01-01T23:09:00.003-06:002012-01-01T23:32:22.439-06:00

I got the last can of black-eyed peas at Kroger. The year was saved from catastrophic disaster. Well, except for all those who couldn't buy them at Walmart. And now the rest of the customers at Kroger. And those who think the world will end in December. But yay me.I love the start of a new year. It's better than the start of a new week because you have a WHOLE 365 days to make last year but a wee

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-40112480502420461632011-12-19T16:04:00.003-06:002011-12-19T16:18:07.660-06:00

With the holiday break in full swing, that means my penchant for eating healthfully takes a backseat to anything highly or disturbingly processed. All I want to do is stuff a big wad of waffle fries from Chick-Fil-A in my mouth and then wash it down with a very large Dr Pepper while shopping on eBay and watching trashy TV. While Christmas shopping today, I had a double cheeseburger and a Coke

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-25166244257983664272011-12-07T10:31:00.008-06:002011-12-09T16:38:45.976-06:00

If you've read this blog for more than 5 minutes, you would know I would never lie to you, Internet. You're like family. If you've read this blog for more than 10 minutes, you would know I am not a fashion maven. Far from it. While I do love clothes and shopping for them, most of my things -- though they are nice -- comes from thrift stores. It's not that I don't like pretty things or don't know

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-47963571105511943102011-12-05T22:00:00.006-06:002011-12-05T22:45:10.365-06:00

I took my math final exam this evening. I needed to make at least a 65 to get an A in the course. I made an 87.7 and got a 94.7 for the semester. It feels like a shallow victory. I hate making Bs. It feels dirty. I think that some of my answers might have been right due to decimal places not being specified, and I told Chris I would just have to wait to see. Chris said I shouldn't worry about it.

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-29572679615890146282011-12-02T22:33:00.001-06:002011-12-02T22:39:08.816-06:00

I love going over to other people's houses. Especially when I'm invited. Or maybe I love the thought of it. Because when I get there I invariably realize that your house will always be nicer than mine. Whatever gene or hormone or extra uterus that produces the ability to decorate your house to something that says, "Hey! I grew up and moved out of a crack den! You should too!" I don't have it.I

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-13157166795574865482011-11-30T22:38:00.001-06:002011-11-30T22:39:18.908-06:00

1. Boy in the stall at Target: "What's that brown stuff?"Mom (uncomfortable explaining the obvious): "I don't know."Boy (matter of factly): "That's poop."2. Me (trying to be motherly): "Sadie?"Sadie (computer is way more interesting than lame moms): "Yeah?"Me (missing her from five minutes ago): "Do you want to come talk to us?"Sadie (done with this line of questioning): "No."Me (hurt): "Why not?

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-84055623480959988922011-11-24T21:10:00.005-06:002011-11-24T22:51:57.972-06:00

Internet, this year I ran out of time to actually write down my thankfulness. I contemplated it, and I'm thankful for it, but I haven't written it down. You believe me, right? Here is the Official After The Thanksgiving Dinner Top 10 Thankful List. Keep in mind this might be tainted by turkey, pie, coffee, and a lackadaisical spirit, but I made it. It is what it is.1. Jesus. Internet. Find Him.

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-46082132309909868022011-11-20T22:52:00.005-06:002011-11-20T23:41:45.518-06:00

You should come over for dinner. Any of you, all of you, any time, all the time. If you're reading this: I will make you whatever you want. Grilled cheese, tomato bisque, chicken pot pie, biscuits, meatloaf and mashed potatoes, anything vegetarian if that's your thing. And then we'll have dessert and coffee. Chocolate cake, cheesecake, cookies, blonde brownies, cobbler, ice cream sundaes, sweet

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-66098817047747455682011-11-17T19:03:00.001-06:002011-11-17T19:06:31.247-06:00

Pep talker (tired of seeing so much of my drama): "Are you happy today?"Me (confused as to my current mental state): "I think so. I just can't let people control my happiness."Pep talker (really wanting to dispense with the drama): "Are you happy today?"Me (trying to convince myself): "Yes? I'm...happy."Pep talker: "Good. Now get your ass in here and get to work."I was all warm and fuzzy on the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-25289609667258789512011-11-15T14:40:00.017-06:002011-11-15T23:31:32.455-06:00

I know I say it every semester, but I'm really ready for this semester to be over. Whereas I used to love math, it now confuses me with every turn of the page. I saw my first probability and statistic in the last two chapters. I can now find a standard deviation, z-score, mean, median, whatever you want. But only for the next few weeks. After that, I'm so done with this knowledge. It will go the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-16300185250123316872011-11-02T21:20:00.003-05:002011-11-02T22:22:03.060-05:00

A. I don't know how to make people listen. Do you use words? With your voice? I find that usually helps. Once I tried the telepathy route, but then people just wanted to know why I was staring at them. So that would be my first suggestion.I wish I knew what I wanted to be when I grow up. I have no clue. I wish someone would tell me some ideas. I'm really open to anything. Writer, chef,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-19447163292093200212011-10-31T21:21:00.003-05:002011-10-31T22:05:05.442-05:00

I'm all for Halloween. Walking around, talking to neighbors? Good. Kids in costume? Great. Candy? Yes. Neighborhood moms dressed as slutty vampires or trampy pirate wenches? BRING IT. That's probably my favorite part of Halloween. If you only get to live out your fantasy of wearing your French maid outfit and fishnet stockings in public once a year, Halloween is your night. Wear your black

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-87720712539986310962011-10-27T00:00:00.000-05:002011-10-27T00:00:09.521-05:00

It makes me sad/guilty to continue on with Three Things Thursday because it's not even my tradition or idea. I totally stole it from über wonderful Bethany over at Bethany's Freelance Life. But she no longer blogs. I wonder if I could steal her talent when she's not looking. I need all the help I can get. I'm no longer a fan of this blog.El número uno (that's number one in Spanish). Sometimes at

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-67931922327695859732011-10-24T16:36:00.005-05:002011-10-27T10:38:48.344-05:00

Me (in discussion for a new Honda Fit for Chris): "There’s no way that that would be the family car. I’ve seen the inside. It’s smaller than mine. That would be your work car or our date night car if we don't have the kids. Maybe you need a Fit and I need a minivan."Chris: "Maybe I need a second job to pay for all this stuff that you want."Me: "I suppose I could want less stuff, but your idea

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-49405713735086404652011-10-22T23:06:00.002-05:002011-10-22T23:15:30.235-05:00

Do you know what's better than donuts and coffee? NOTHING. The answer you're looking for is nothing. Not kittens or world peace or clean nuclear energy or ergonomic furniture.Being a lover of all things involving sugar, donuts, and geometric shapes, Denton Square Donuts marries all three into delectable goodness. They are light, baked pillows of deliciousness topped with sundry ingredients: sweet

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-72267448519541646752011-10-16T19:32:00.001-05:002011-10-16T19:35:05.566-05:00

A. It says I like a lot of cake. A lot of it. With a lot of icing. And a side of ice cream.One time at work about 8 or 9 years ago, the girl at the front desk asked me when my birthday was. I told her it was in December. She then asked the most insightful question anyone has ever asked me:"Are you really frugal?""How did you know?" I gasped. I don't think anyone has ever seen so deep into

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-28247557140851072092011-10-07T23:59:00.003-05:002011-10-08T00:32:24.569-05:00

Frequently, I don't have anything to do for lunch. When that happens, I make plans to spend money. Sometimes spending $3 on anything makes me feel powerful, like I can conquer the world. I realize how sad that statement sounds, yet I'm powerless to do anything about it.Today I actually had something to do AND it required me to spend money. That's like celebrating Christmas and Thanksgiving

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-87946474468336963692011-10-02T20:01:00.008-05:002011-10-02T20:27:15.979-05:00

At dinnerMe: "What's the name of the girl on the cheerleading squad with strawberry blonde hair and freckles?"Ben (uninterested): "I don't know."Me (always trying to play matchmaker): "Can you imagine if you two got married and had kids? Two redheads with fair skin and freckles?"Ben (introspectively): "Two gingers...would they have souls? If two gingers marry, are they doomed to a life

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-90032632940275077162011-09-23T13:07:00.011-05:002011-09-23T13:31:28.944-05:00

When I'm sad or lonely or depressed or fat, I like to shop. As it turns out, I shop a lot. With gas prices being in the pooper, I take to eBay. Sometimes a lot. I like to look at shoes. (I also like to look at food at Target, but that just makes me want to eat. I can't eat shoes although sometimes I wish I could.) I came across these today in my perusal of footwear. My question to you, Internet,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-27642088071224633312011-09-19T21:25:00.011-05:002011-09-19T23:04:59.392-05:00

One of my favorite parenting methods is bribery. (Bonus tidbit: My other favorite parenting method is using the TV as a babysitter.) Potty training, sibling rivalry, cleaning rooms, raking leaves, sweeping floors, unloading dishwashers, washing cars, and vacuuming can all be battles won with a little bribery. M&Ms, Chili Cheese Fritos, chicken nuggets, French fries, Tootsie Rolls, donuts, Dr.

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-82534975858426076072011-09-14T20:37:00.000-05:002011-09-14T20:37:36.790-05:00

In trying to come up with something -- anything -- to make for Christmas presents for co-workers, I turned to my friend Keri, on whom I rely for pressing information. Me: "What should I make for Christmas presents for the people at work?"Keri: "Why don't you do what I do every year?"Me: "Because I don't think 'nothing' is very good gift."Keri: "Oh, well. Then I don't know of anything."If

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-39336009630648160662011-09-09T08:00:00.002-05:002011-09-09T15:46:20.704-05:00

I don't have many parenting strategies. I don't even really have any life strategies despite the good game I talk. And by "talk" I really mean "complaining and then drinking coffee and shopping all my troubles away." It's generally a good coping mechanism. I'm thinking of throwing "napping" in the mix as well. It's all about balance.Isn't parenting about balance? Or maybe it's about not crying

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-69288656534714542772011-09-08T00:00:00.002-05:002011-09-09T08:12:07.593-05:00

Oh, Internet. How I have missed you. You with your flashy articles and shiny pictures. You're like a wise old grandmother to me, only flatter, less caring, and you process things I tell you into bits and bytes and return 3,000,000 things for which I didn't even ask. That's kind of pushy, Internet. Sometimes it's too much for my feeble non-binary brain. You know what else is too much sometimes,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-75596344524764229762011-08-29T22:02:00.000-05:002011-08-29T22:06:44.502-05:00

Me (hoping to get a blessing and an extra $20): "I need a day of shopping." Chris (not understanding that I'm a woman): "Why? We just had a weekend of shopping. Shouldn't that last more than 3 days?"It's like he doesn't even know me. Me (explaining the difference between boys and girls): "I need a day of thrift store shopping. For me. Totally different."I did go shopping. Not a whole day,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-67515379465972546882011-08-22T13:00:00.007-05:002011-08-23T08:08:45.277-05:00

Ben (fidgeting in the front seat): "Ugh. I'm so nervous." Me (tickling his stomach and talking to him in a baby voice): "Do you have butterflies in your tum tum?" Ben (clearly annoyed and confused): "NO." [Ben tries to make sense of the events that just occurred.] Ben: "I feel so violated." Today marked the first day of school. I think I hear choirs singing as I write this. Ben's in 8th

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-48415160063280841072011-08-18T15:41:00.010-05:002011-08-19T11:06:29.663-05:00

I fed my family packaged food last night. This whole summer has been the summer of Dinnertime? WHY ME? and GAH -- Why are you wanting to eat AGAIN?? and Jelly and crackers IS what we're having for dinner I'm caring that way. I'm like your friendly neighborhood truck stop waitress, slinging hash to the masses. Except my twangy catchphrase is not, "Y'all come back now, ya hear?" It's more like,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-22209662117072518802011-08-12T09:30:00.004-05:002011-08-12T19:07:10.412-05:00

Miniature golf is always one of those things that sounds better in theory. Me (looking for family-friendly activities that didn't involve the loss of life): "Let's go play miniature golf!" Chris and Sadie (unsuspecting): "Okay!" By hole two, I had already cursed. Twice. By hole four, I was ready to quit. By hole five, I was ready to become an alcoholic. And the better Chris does, the more

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-60696743891913546852011-08-11T14:48:00.001-05:002011-08-11T15:01:31.901-05:00

I could count on one hand the number of times I've gone swimming this summer. I could actually count on one finger the number of times I've gone swimming because standing in the water up to my waist doesn't really count as "swimming." Sometimes I throw caution to the wind and get wet up to my shoulders. I've yet to get my hair wet. I refuse to dunk my head. I do not look like Bo Derek when I

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-31247519186320285182011-08-04T22:02:00.003-05:002011-08-05T00:15:15.660-05:00

This weekend, my saints of in-laws are taking the kids -- BOTH. OF. THEM. -- on a trip out of state. Both kids. At the same time. It's been a while since they've had both kids at the same time without any sort of blood related parental unit or SWAT team in the same general vicinity. They've taken them separately, and Sadie stayed with them for 4 whole consecutive days, though when I tried to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-44895921319265387152011-08-02T21:08:00.002-05:002011-08-02T22:57:20.685-05:00

Chris (trying to be helpful): "We got new floors."Me (indignant): "So?"Chris (clearly grasping for straws): "We got new bedroom furniture."Me (taking his straws and cutting them up into tiny, tiny pieces): "That was a YEAR ago."Chris (checking out): "Was it? Well, Ben has a mustache. He didn't have that last year."Me (coming full circle): "Oh, good. Now I have perspective."

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-35071032884781019892011-07-25T23:05:00.010-05:002011-07-27T07:35:08.362-05:00

I made the unfortunate decision to go bathing suit shopping. I rationalized that I was feeling pretty good about myself, so I thought I'd go try on tiny pieces of spandex/lycra combos to send my self-esteem into full plummet mode. I also wanted to solve the burning question, "If the StayPuft Marshmallow Man and Pillsbury Dough Boy mated, what would it look like?" Not that I adhere to any sort

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-13194028862335199142011-07-19T22:02:00.001-05:002011-07-20T07:45:13.333-05:00

When we went to the park tonight, our neighbors were there and teased Sadie (dressed in a pink flowery summer dress), "Did you dress up for your boyfriend?"Needless to say, the humor was lost on Sadie The Literalist.Sadie (indignant at the thought that her wardrobe choice would be to impress anyone): "NO."Granted, it's not hard to look super cute when you're 6 and tiny and brown as a bean from

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-34654256910817450082011-07-18T20:14:00.005-05:002011-07-19T10:55:24.044-05:00

Chris (coming in the door, unsuspecting): "Hey, how was your day?"Me (frantic, guilty): "I HAD A LOT OF SUGAR TODAY! A LOT!"Chris (wondering what I've really eaten): "Ooo...kay?"Me: "I JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW!"You want to feel better about yourself? Here goes.In addition to lunch I had a medium Cherry Slurpee (FREE thanks to 12 Taste of Dallas coupons). And a real Slurpee, none of that

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-62227393633924666322011-07-15T21:57:00.007-05:002011-07-15T22:47:38.962-05:00

We went to our first ever "Taste of Dallas." "Taste of Anything" really. I've always wanted to go but never had the inclination. Well, maybe I did. Perhaps I just couldn't muster the courage to admit that I wanted to gorge on endless amounts of food for one low price. Surely it wouldn't have surprised Chris one iota. He's seen the eating binges. Sometimes I wonder how I'm not 400 pounds of

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-28130840498047670002011-07-06T22:15:00.005-05:002011-07-06T23:20:30.045-05:00

If you leave your stuff (furniture, home decor, pies, shoes) even remotely close to the alley, I will take it. I feel inclined. And a little entitled. It's like a neighborly duty to relieve you of your cast offs. If it's still on your driveway, I will refrain from stuffing it into the trunk of my car. But if it's even *partially* on the 1" strip of grass between the fence and the driveway,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-56062869866527240842011-07-01T12:50:00.004-05:002011-07-01T13:12:26.501-05:00

We're finally replacing our dirt-colored carpet with laminate flooring. We had the option of hardwood, but we have kids; ergo, we can't have nice things. I was hesitant to believe that it was really going to happen because that's usually how things usually go with us -- disappointment looms just around the corner. They showed up on time, and I felt like an expectant mother about to give birth

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-912494625661124742011-06-28T22:46:00.002-05:002011-06-28T23:25:16.340-05:00

Me (obviously not thinking clearly): "You know what we should do!"I speak in exclamatory sentences when I'm delirious. Or desperate. Or needy. Or hungry.Chris (eying me suspiciously and cringing): "What?"Me (because I'm high from spray paint fumes): "Paint! Four entire areas! In three days! Mostly by myself! [losing my captive audience] Hey! Where are you going!"Chris (tired of me): "I'm going

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-32191360711863596792011-06-22T14:51:00.002-05:002011-06-22T15:15:29.222-05:00

I feel like when I say something like, "I hate picnics" or "I hate swimming," I'm essentially saying, "I throw newborn kittens off bridges" or "I bop babies on the head with rolled up magazines while standing in line at the grocery store" or "I go to nursing homes and pretend like I'm going to hug the residents but then I really bite their hand. Hard." For the record, I only do one of those

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-75580488201905209892011-06-16T22:41:00.004-05:002011-06-16T23:08:37.210-05:00

Boy at the park: "Slater! Hey, Slater!"I know what you're thinking. I thought it, too. Me to Chris: "Do you think his mom was a big fan of Saved By The Bell? Do you think he's like Slater So-and-So or AC Slater So-and-So?"Chris: "What did the 'AC' stand for?"Now normally I try to hide the fact that I know a lot about Saved By The Bell. A LOT. I like to maintain the mystery and allure in our

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-67816483522933005882011-06-13T23:33:00.006-05:002011-06-14T16:02:04.468-05:00

When our neighborhood workout room closed for renovations (which, as far as I can tell, means rolling the carpet into a pile and leaving it in the middle of the floor for six weeks) two months ago, I took it upon myself to stop exercising. Completely. There's no use in lying to you, Internet. The amount of Ben & Jerry's Americone Dream that's melting over the top of my pants would belie any

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-17258062495625711972011-06-07T23:14:00.006-05:002011-06-07T23:23:23.705-05:00

I need you to spot me a solid. I am a big supporter of yours. I am fanatical about recycling: I pull aluminum cans and plastic bottles out of the trash at work and wash them and lovingly place them in the recycling bin, and I am a little too dogmatic when I explain to people what I'm doing and shrill at them, "WE ONLY GET ONE EARTH, PEOPLE! ONE!" I take my own bags to the grocery store. Every

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-73100040037689782152011-06-02T18:07:00.000-05:002011-06-02T18:07:43.993-05:00

Today was the last day of school. There is no more time in the school year for Public Education to teach my children from its fount of knowledge. I've really been looking forward to the last day of school because we're going to go to Pizza Inn for dinner and I get to stuff my face full of cheap pizza. Wait. Was that out loud?Sadie had an award ceremony yesterday for kindergarten.Me (trying

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-29805002022373514732011-05-31T23:04:00.000-05:002011-05-31T23:05:10.031-05:00

With the semester finally, mercifully over, I can get back to what I do best: spend money. Lots of it. Some we don't have, some we do, some I found, some that's new. But this time, I'm spending with a purpose. Normally, I usually just go into the store and throw money on the floor and walk out. It doesn't matter that I don't take anything because I'll eventually clear it out when I make a

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-19879911903451293122011-05-23T21:31:00.005-05:002011-05-23T21:57:24.677-05:00

I had a dream the other night. No, not that kind. In it, someone asked me my weight. Thinking that this was a dream, clearly I could tell them whatever weight I wished and there would be no room for argument.Woman in my dream: "How much do you weigh?"Me (distinctly knowing the truth): "113."She gave me The Mom Look that said, "Puh. As if." Fine. I'll fess up.Me (trying again): "120."She

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-5100815003117990572011-05-16T14:33:00.000-05:002011-05-16T14:33:43.763-05:00

I cleaned the kids' bathroom this morning. As I was doing it, I imagined that this must be what cleaning a prison bathroom must be like. There's all sorts of grime and mysterious stains, blobs of things, litter strewn about the bathroom, things I don't even want to know how they got there. I cleaned it though, floor and toilet and counter tops. Then I boiled my hands.I figure if we're ever

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-45575731977912744162011-05-09T21:55:00.004-05:002011-05-09T22:45:28.855-05:00

For those of you that did college in 4 years, I doff my hat to you. It's especially easy now that I got a kicky red hat on Mother's Day for the summer. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to be a certain age to don a red hat. At least Kohl's didn't put any age restrictions on the purchase of red straw hats. College. Right. Pay attention, Rachel.People often ask me, "Are you about to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-58502537160668836792011-05-08T22:13:00.006-05:002011-05-09T07:21:54.165-05:00

Apparently there's this "study" that was conducted about how women wake before their husbands do. They supposedly found that women wake before their husbands do because they need less sleep. Internet, they didn't question our family because they completely missed the mark on that one. By a long shot. Like not even in the parking lot of the ball park. More like 4 miles down the road and stuck

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-72445214885125093892011-05-06T23:01:00.005-05:002011-05-06T23:49:17.743-05:00

There are few things that have made such an impact on me that they affect the way I socialize. I had a huge crush on this guy in high school in my pre-AP calculus class. I still remember his name: Michael M*******. As per usual, it was unrequited. I talked to him regularly in class, trading friendly banter and what have you. I tried to hide my googly eyes and speak in non-breathy tones during

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-87622058994854897452011-05-03T22:40:00.007-05:002011-05-04T08:13:54.978-05:00

I realized that I am not a meek person. I don't know why I made this realization or why it came so late in life. I've always been really good friends with women who are bold and sassy, strong and fun. They're my favorite kind. My friend Keri is a good example. I tell her everything. EVERYTHING. I would call her in the middle of the night to come get me out of jail because she wouldn't even

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-29030313835141602632011-04-26T22:18:00.002-05:002011-04-26T22:24:26.128-05:00

I am blessed. Truly I am. But why do I feel the need to crawl out of my skin if I do the same thing one more bloody time? It's good to be content. I realize that. But I feel as if I'm content one more day they might have to lock me in a padded cell. Hopefully there will be good snacks.I love change. All the time. Constant movement, making decisions, always moving, always changing. I

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-26149083970601414762011-04-21T19:53:00.013-05:002011-04-21T23:26:56.193-05:00

I try to bond regularly with the kids. I've heard that's good for their social and behavioral development. I also try to impart wisdom to the kids. On the kids? In the kids? I don't know. I just know I try to filter all the smart junk from my head into their heads. Sometimes the filter is broken.Me (trying to teach modesty): "Sadie. Put your legs down. Ladies don't sit like that."It all

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-56068536447153629712011-04-20T22:02:00.003-05:002011-04-21T08:01:07.615-05:00

For the love of all things covered in a thick layer of chocolate frosting and sprinkled with nuts WHY WON'T THIS SEMESTER END? I'm increasingly finding other things to do besides exam reviews, chapter readings, or Spanish homework. Important things like shop for summer clothes for Sadie at the thrift store (4 shirts and 3 skirts for $16.81!), cleaning out my closet, cleaning the shower,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-69455048368755195892011-04-18T21:43:00.006-05:002011-04-18T22:46:18.441-05:00

I'm convinced college is just a really expensive selection committee for life. You find your tyrants, your slackers, your princesses, your women who realize that they just really want to stay home and have a handful of babies and make pies (yes, there's that type, too). I see the point of going to college. You find out what you want to be when you grow up.And then you become leader of a group

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-50217244360222205512011-04-14T15:35:00.001-05:002011-04-14T15:36:43.147-05:00

Not to outdo anyone, but I'm far lazier than Bethany over at Bethany's Freelance Life: I stole her idea. I win. Well, she did *ask* what were my stupid happy things. I'm obliging. But I didn't even bother to try to come up an original idea for today. I had them numbered because I like enumerated lists, but I removed the numbers because I didn't want Bethany to feel like I was trying to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-27379470588398027762011-04-10T00:00:00.000-05:002011-04-10T08:01:05.212-05:00

It never fails that the day I choose to ignore detailed personal hygiene is the day that I would see someone I know. Why I elect to look like the President of The Dregs Of Society for everyone else, I don't know. They don't know my potential, so why waste it on them? To them, homeless IS my potential and I've reached it.Every (mostly) time I go out, I choose something that is (mostly) free of

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-2846751107084790092011-04-07T21:37:00.004-05:002011-04-08T08:07:11.770-05:00

A. Not always. When I was younger and prettier and thinner and a single mom, I taught Ben how to play board games when he was 4 because I was sick of cartoons. (Yes, my parenting skills are usually honed out of boredom.) I taught him how to play, tossed him a couple of easy rounds, and then began to cream him at every board game we played. I never "let" anyone win. Why would I let a kid win

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-88522714321081063212011-04-05T21:39:00.007-05:002011-04-05T22:51:49.756-05:00

I have several dreams that are unrealized. Having another baby, finally nailing down that tricky alchemy, losing 15 pounds, but mainly singing a solo in church. I sing in the car. A lot. Sometimes I sing the melody, sometimes I get creative and sing harmony. When I'm doing a phenomenal job and wonder why isn't anyone inviting me up on stage with them to sing a duet, I put my finger in my

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-67099921723708701042011-03-31T00:00:00.001-05:002011-03-31T00:00:08.939-05:00

It's good to have friends point out your limitations.

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-30131159818967354492011-03-30T12:43:00.003-05:002011-03-30T21:54:29.978-05:00

1. Talking to kids is sometimes like talking to a drunk. They stumble over their words, they run into the displays at Walmart when they're talking to you, they get belligerent when you don't understand what they mean, they get angry when you tell them no. 2. I want this:And really only because the color is Biscotti. I have no idea what the specs are or what any of that mumbo jumbo means. I

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-60564376351688827812011-03-28T07:00:00.007-05:002011-03-28T13:20:44.620-05:00

I saw this article recently about how to not look tired. It gives 10 steps on how to brighten up your look should you receive the comment, "You look tired." It's also implied that you might hear the comments, "When did you start doing meth?" or "Was your face hit by a Mack truck?" or "You should really try not to drink before 8 a.m."They're assuming you have a husband that makes ridiculous

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-23932130152581087562011-03-24T08:00:00.001-05:002011-03-24T10:21:55.097-05:00

A. At first I thought this was an odd question because I don't remember ever consulting my ovaries when shopping. I think if I did consult them on the purchase of sexy clothing, they would laugh and laugh and laugh. Then Big White Belly Flab might get all sad and droopy and feel left out because it couldn't wear that. This article hypothesizes that women want to out-sex each other in the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-35004317497335428722011-03-22T09:37:00.007-05:002011-03-22T10:01:09.807-05:00

When you have anyone with an artistic bent in your house, craft supplies are like crack. I have to hide rolls of tape from Sadie because she'll use hers, lose it somewhere under the 6" of clothes on her floor, claim she doesn't know what happened to it, and then ask if she can borrow mine. One time for her birthday I put rolls of tape on her birthday list. Party goers (questioning my parenting

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-35475641482816891972011-03-20T15:19:00.005-05:002011-03-20T23:44:18.517-05:00

Bad news: Spring Break has ended. Good news: We all survived. This weekend was no small feat because I came thisclose to having an aneurysm. For whatever reason, if the four of us are together, it is a chaotic mess. Two: Like Janet and Chrissy. Three: Like Jack, Janet, and Chrissy. Four: Someone becomes Mr. Roper. Whoever that fourth person is tends to throw the whole thing off. All four

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-9133920264155204312011-03-17T22:45:00.009-05:002011-03-17T23:23:03.255-05:00

Spring Break Day Four was all about spending very little money. I thought it would be nice to drive 45 minutes away from our house and get lost in the woods on unmarked trails on a hot day, so that's what we did. Why go see a movie in air conditioning and everyone get along when the wheels can come off your hike 15 minutes in to it? Why use clean facilities when you can use only

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-42872104234628185622011-03-16T22:17:00.002-05:002011-03-16T22:21:39.187-05:00

You know what I've learned on Day Three of Spring Break? KIDS DON'T TAKE NAPS. They don't stop. They don't sleep. They don't ever ponder how lovely it would feel to lie down in a cool, dark room with a big squishy blanket and drift away for the next two hours. It's a constant motion of moving forward, errands, eating, drawing on the sidewalk with chalk, dirtying clothes, talking, fighting,

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-68866888147200181482011-03-15T20:49:00.005-05:002011-03-15T21:04:00.265-05:00

I did not eat an entire jar of Nutella, although I have [ahem] come very close.Under our kitchen sink we keep the ubiquitous Fat Jar. It's full of fat from pots and pans, pork chops, chicken, bacon, beef, whatever couldn't go down the tubes (PVC, not Internet). Why I couldn't just wipe it into the trash, I don't know. Seems like that would have made more sense, but then we would have missed

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-51190501294240832972011-03-14T09:21:00.004-05:002011-03-16T20:04:32.835-05:00

Chris and I were watching the news this morning when he said, "Oh, yeah. Today is National Pie Day." I got excited thinking about all the ways in which we would celebrate Pie Day, like eating apple pie, peach pie, buttermilk pie, pecan pie, and sweet potato pie at various times throughout the day. Turns out it's a different kind of pie. The kind without the ever-critical "e." It's all about

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-89305310546469281062011-03-09T21:48:00.004-06:002011-03-09T22:20:20.184-06:00

A. I've been good. Or well. Whatever is appropriate here. I hadn't intended to take a week-long break from writing this scintillating blog, but, alas, it happened. There was the homework, the meltdowns, the dinners that had to be cooked because apparently kids like to eat. Then there were the nights of sheer exhaustion where I barely made it to 8 p.m. and then blissfully fell asleep on the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-81364701610074062232011-03-02T08:05:00.002-06:002011-03-02T08:13:35.134-06:00

Today is Hump Day. Now I'm not an expert on road signage (or baseball or soufflés or military strategies), but "Speed Hump" seems like it's just asking for trouble. Is it a warning? Is it a suggestion? Oh, City Planning Commission, you're so naughty!

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-81750122229095969032011-02-27T23:20:00.002-06:002011-02-28T08:30:19.322-06:00

More often than not, our conversations as married people tend to have the same circular pattern. You ask something critical like the state of your outfit, he absently answers. You have a good freak out, he tells you you just need to relax.Like the other day at the Very Public Library. Major vehicular purchases were mentioned, someone got upset, someone asked when they were going to be able to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-46917069465985721202011-02-25T00:01:00.006-06:002011-02-25T08:19:21.586-06:00

I came across this article on blogging today as I was wasting time on the Internet...I mean doing valuable research for this blog and how I can appeal more to my three readers. I'd really like to entertain the notion of adding a fourth reader and maybe a fifth by year's end, but I'm realistic about it all.I didn't know there was a set of criteria for writing a blog or perhaps I would have looked

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-25422491827045370262011-02-24T09:57:00.005-06:002011-02-24T22:36:07.440-06:00

You know what makes you feel old? Kids. You know what makes you feel crazy? Kids. You know what makes you feel short? Kids.You know what makes you feel slow? Kids.You know who started the unrest in Egypt? I don't know. Probably kids. They're always doing something. Making you feel old and short and crazy and slow and causing pandemonium. Ben's 13th birthday is approaching, and I waver

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-42589026994853422522011-02-16T12:55:00.006-06:002011-02-16T16:42:12.876-06:00

I like rules. And English. And English muffins. All three are tasty. I don't like the chalky taste grammatical errors leave in my mouth.I received a note from Sadie's PE teacher about some problem she'd had in PE. After hearing Sadie's side of the story, I didn't think it was such a grievous error to warrant a notification on poor choices. I read the note, signed it, and made one minor

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-18763851797365957542011-02-14T08:18:00.003-06:002011-02-14T09:23:07.257-06:00

As per usual, February 14 has ushered in another round of VD. I have seen a smattering of VD everywhere I look. It's smeared all over the place, and I cannot escape it no matter how much I avert my eyes. It's a deluge of red and white, a sight to behold at every corner. You want to know a secret?I hate VD.I have no use for it. I don't know if in the throes of my awkward social years (ages

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-55569243764458188052011-02-10T11:30:00.009-06:002011-02-10T14:15:26.359-06:00

If you're not a reader of this blog, you might not know that I don't have many friends. It's hard for me to make connections and develop real relationships that include activities in which regular friends might engage, like calling each other or attending each other's home births or hiding bodies. If you know me in real life, that probably explains a whole lot. You might walk away scratching

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-79652448683624495952011-02-08T15:04:00.017-06:002011-02-08T18:47:31.129-06:00

I have filled my body with an inordinate amount of chemicals. The day started innocently enough. Breakfast was oatmeal with an apple and pecans, honey and milk. That's a happy start. Then I proceeded to eat 2 pieces of cake. That cake was just *asking* to be eaten. I heard it. Since I went ahead and derailed my morning with an insane sugar crash and burn, I had to stabilize myself with a

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-85223905150261801612011-02-05T21:59:00.005-06:002011-02-05T22:44:59.764-06:00

While writing my paper on photosynthesis today, I was painfully reminded how, as a 7th grader, I wrote a paper on some type of organism for my 7th grade science class. I don't remember what the paper was about, only that I used the word "organism" a lot. When I was in 7th grade, there were no computers on which I could type a paper, edit it, and reprint it because I went to middle school in the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-57088405077452883162011-01-31T12:49:00.002-06:002011-01-31T13:18:31.720-06:00

More than preposterous, improbable situations, I love awkward conversations. They're the highlight of my day. Please, Internet, let me enlighten you on how to commence with your very own Awkward Conversation.1. Don't make a lot of money.2. Start clipping coupons in order to offset the amount of money you don't make.3. Freely accept coupons that others offer to you, regardless of their

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-77739913771180380462011-01-27T09:46:00.007-06:002011-01-27T12:11:44.702-06:00

1. The pants I'm wearing I bought for $1. They're New York and Co. and came in Drab Gray. They've also been vanity sized out the wazoo because I have other pants this size, and they are no where near this roomy. Nice try, New York and Co., but FAIL. I got them at the thrift store, obviously, because last year I wouldn't pass up pants for $1 no matter how ugly they were. I'll wear anything

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-41901836689559946102011-01-24T09:33:00.002-06:002011-01-24T10:42:12.222-06:00

1. Sometimes I wonder if after Sadie gets to school and people see her hair, they wonder if I'm drunk in the mornings. By the looks of it, I am. Sometimes I would like to be. If I have to help her get dressed in the mornings because she sleeps like a teenager, I like to put together the most random and mismatched outfit I can find. Turquoise and lime green striped skirt? Check. Purple

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-28701499381387167942011-01-20T23:00:00.001-06:002011-01-20T23:03:35.044-06:00

I made a serious vow not to spend any extra money this year. None. Not a single cent on anything I don't need. (I do need some more running shoes, Internet, to combat my gargantuan ass.) So this morning came as quite a shock when I did this:I've only told one other person this besides Chris, and I trust that my secret is safe with you, Internet. You won't tell your 6 million closest

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-16286548985025078932011-01-18T00:01:00.000-06:002011-01-17T22:30:16.160-06:00

I don't know if I've told you this (and I tell you everything, Internet) but this is the year of No Spending. Aside from the essentials (white bread, Dr Pepper, cheese, chocolate milk, fried clams, and clementines), I've decided -- nay, vowed -- not to spend anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. Nothing. Do you know how hard of a vow that is for someone who is an avowed thrift store

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-59487879428567286682011-01-14T23:01:00.009-06:002011-01-14T23:53:34.393-06:00

At one of the Apples of Gold meetings I attended, they asked us during dinner, "What do you want your legacy to your children to be? What do you want to be remembered for?" I cringed at this question because I'd just come off 6 years of subpar parenting. We'd faced an extremely difficult, very tense 2 weeks prior, with no end in sight to erratic behavior. I knew if you'd asked the kids then

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-85006948833074447632011-01-13T08:24:00.005-06:002011-01-13T09:11:58.304-06:00

or Deplorable Behavior That Would Get Your Kids GroundedorAdults Should Have Their Mouths Washed Out With Soap, TooI called the College of Arts and Sciences twice last week -- TWICE, Internet, that's key -- to inquire about going in to fill out a concurrent enrollment form for taking classes at the community college while also attending The Big University. The lady told me, "We're taking

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-20698031074216196572011-01-11T15:17:00.006-06:002011-01-11T16:34:04.256-06:00

I seldom admit when I like truly trashy TV. If it's good trashy, sure. Extreme Couponing? Awesomeness. 16 & Pregnant? Of course. 19 Kids and Counting? A big fat YES.What I do try to keep under wraps is anything broadcast on VH1. They're typically not known for their highbrow documentaries. Perhaps it's the break from thinking/conceptualizing/opining that allowed my thought processes to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-89534176925880027592011-01-08T18:46:00.001-06:002011-01-08T18:46:48.976-06:00

Did you stuff this extra butt into my pants this morning? I'd like an answer. Because these previously baggy-in-the-rear pants are...ahem...a little tight.While I'm going to try to hold you accountable, Internet, I *might* know from whence it came. I am no longer going to live in denial about my atrocious holiday eating habits. That would be the 16 pounds of sugar I consumed in the past 2

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-17078861987615350212011-01-04T22:32:00.005-06:002011-01-04T23:19:19.159-06:00

Mandy commented that she would really like to know how the coupon efforts go without buying processed food because we are, not to sound to stalkerish, foodie sisters even though she lives across the country and I've never actually met her. But I would totally be the black sheep sister because I don't buy organic because I can't afford it. Let me tell you, The Year of Couponing very nearly

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-67707389022700385732011-01-01T21:58:00.001-06:002011-01-01T22:01:55.504-06:00

I figured now is as good a time as any to work on all my many faults. I know. You're shocked I could have any. Or perhaps you're shocked I have so many. I'm riddled with them. But this seems like a perfect time to work on goals that are actually attainable. Once I tried to be more cheerful and delightful because I'm drawn to those women that come by it naturally, but it made my head hurt to

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-74972077925459054752010-12-30T00:16:00.006-06:002010-12-30T01:01:22.005-06:00

I was hoping that this break from work and school would allow me to focus on more refined things like art and music and leisurely reading. I have focused on one refined thing: Sugar. And this Christmas vacation has been successful in my acquisition of one thing:It's a gift I give myself once every couple of days. The running doesn't seem to be helping. What would help is abandoning the

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-35606313839112041242010-12-27T00:51:00.003-06:002010-12-27T01:09:19.253-06:00

My entire Christmas vacation has consisted of the following activities:* Drinking coffee* Staying up late* Sleeping late* Drinking coffee* Eating sugar* Watching TV* Cooking with sugar* Complaining about the muffin top I'm growing* Complaining about how tired I am* Complaining about how my kidneys are about to give up the ghost and move outThis has been the most stressful of all Christmases. I'm

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-49512740462247705642010-12-22T23:30:00.009-06:002010-12-23T08:53:14.017-06:00

Today ushered in Year 33. A run-down if you will:1. Closed on the refinance of our house. It looks more expensive now. There were no hardwood floors installed when we got home. Dang current homeowners not doing any updates. Stop being so cheap!2. Got Starbucks and an almond biscotti as my second breakfast.3. Took Sadie for donuts. I didn't have any!4. Went to library to fill my head with

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3550986128855684137.post-52215564610493877202010-12-21T00:07:00.002-06:002010-12-21T16:08:55.095-06:00

I went to my very first college basketball game on Sunday. It was sensational! Why have I not been watching basketball this whole time! It was even better because the tickets were free. And if I'm not mistaken, free is even better than cheap. We sat in Row E. For those of you counting the alphabet on your fingers right now, that's a mere FIVE ROWS away from the floor! Free seats! For my

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248502540593046096noreply@blogger.com0