Rachel Says So

The Big Five

2012-01-30T21:03:00.000-08:00

On Thursday of last week I was weepy. For various reasons, not all of them bad. One, in fact, was quite good (Later. I'll tell you later. I don't know...I'm feeling superstitious.) I had hit that point where you cannot stop crying, even though reason has set in and the sun has come out and the Blue Bird of Happiness is chirping in the tree outside your window. And yet, you can't stop. I've talked about crying here enough times to know that there are several of you out there who know what I'm talking about. And if you don't know what I'm talking about can you bottle that magic and pass it around?

So, anyway, I was crying, and it got to the point where I had to resort to the Big Five. The five things that, when combined, form a shield of awesomeness around me and make me feel like life can go on despite all the evidence against such a feat. They are:

1.) Pajamas (life cannot be so bad if at the end of the day you get to take your bra off and put on stretchy pants.)
2.) My pink bathrobe that may as well be my boyfriend
3.) Toast with butter and jam
4.) Hot chocolate
5.) The Blue Castle. (This book is like aloe on a sunburn, like aspirin on a headache, like raw bacon on your chest when you have an upper-respiratory infection.)

It worked. On Friday morning I woke up happy as a happy thing. The world may go on.

What are you Big Fives?

My Lip Balm Addiction. I am not ashamed.

2012-01-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

How long does it take you to go through a tube of lip balm?

Me? One month. Which I did not think was excessive (mostly because when I lived in Utah it was more like 2 weeks) until I asked my dad how long it took him and he said 6 months...maybe longer. And everyone in my family nodded their heads and said, "That's about right." Like they were monks who had taken a vow of chapped lips.

My lips have always been very prone to chapping. Most childhood pictures of me include the tell-tale red ring around my mouth, thus making me look like a freckled Chinese toddler who has escaped from clown school. And that one tube has a lot of territory to cover - my lips are not demure. And I like a lot of coverage. But six months? Is there some kind of ration going on that I didn't know about?

Just writing about lip balm rationing makes me want to stick my lips in a jar of Vaseline.

Also, what is your preferred balm? I am a Burt's Bees girl. Ever since Chapstick changed their formula, which they refused to own up to when I harassed them by phone even though I could smell that it was different and it made my lips break out in cold sores, thus making me look less like a clown school escapee and more like a woman of the night. You're really going to go against my nose and my many, many years of faithful usage, Chapstick? Really?

(Side note: Happy 700th post everyone!)

Granola Confession

2012-01-23T13:23:00.000-08:00

You know I suffer from a yet to be classified by the AMA condition called weather paralysis that manifests itself in my inability to do anything but sit on my couch and watch Brit-flicks while eating cheese when it rains. Well, it's been raining all morning and I am happy to report that I exercised for a full hour and showered and ate a real breakfast, not just a bowl of Cocoa Pebbles. It wasn't until much later in the morning that I sat down with some brie and watched last night's episode of Downton Abbey (oh, that Thomas makes me so mad).

One thing I don't mind doing when it rains is baking. It just feels appropriate and it warms up my house without me having to turn on the heater (because I'm cheap and the heater makes my allergies cranky). On the docket today is granola and bread. I've been hiding the fact from you for months now but I make my own granola. Because making your own granola just seems so, I don't know, granola-y. And pretentious. Like, only people who use hemp toilet paper and brag about it make their own granola, right? And yet, here I am, chopping up dried fruits and toasting the oats and measuring out flax seed (FLAX SEED!?!) What have I become? Oh, right, I'm cheap. I started making my own granola for the single reason that's it's cheaper than buying it. The bulk granola over at Sprouts is so delicious, it's like crack, but it's also just as expensive. So, yes, I'll admit it. But that just means there's more room in my budget for cheese.

The capital of Burkina Faso is...

2012-01-19T00:35:00.000-08:00

Ugh, you guys, unemployment has made me dumb. If any of you have had a conversation with me in the last few months, you've no doubt noticed this. My brain is just sluggish. I spend most of Jeopardy! saying, "Oh, it's...um...I know this...it's...GAH!!!!" because I know the answer but because I spend my days talking to myself my ability to be coherent has evaporated. I blame the lack of problem solving opportunities. You know when you're at work and some guy comes in screaming about how he was over charged by one million dollars or you have to spend 3 hours on the phone because the coffee cups you ordered all have holes in them? I don't have these problems, which isn't a bad thing. It just means that I don't use my brain in those ways very often which means that I've become a little stupid.

And so I have decided that I need to fix this and have started doing things I don't normally do, like math problems. And logic problems. And memorizing poems. And learning new piano pieces. I've also started memorizing all the world capitals. (Which really doesn't make me any smarter, just a bigger nerd and truly insufferable at parties) Two weeks ago I started with Africa, then last week was Europe. Yesterday I dug into Asia, which has fewer countries but also has the -stans. You know, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, etc. So I've had to come up with creative ways to remember them all. Like, "Bishop Kek of the Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan 1st Ward." Or, "There's a cash tent under Tashkent, Uzbekistan." Or my favorite, for Turkmenistan, "Turks in Ashgabat wear Oshkosh B'Gosh."

Next week is South America, which should be pretty simple ("Life is more simple in Thimphu, Bhutan"). I hope that by the time I get around to the Caribbean and all those little island nations in the south Pacific my brain will be back to fighting shape ("Go back to Baku, Azerbaijan").

(The answer to the title is Ouagadougou (pronounced wah-gah-doo-goo). "Do the watusi in your bikini in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso)

They start them young in the desert, and other things I learned in AZ

2012-01-16T16:22:00.000-08:00

Camille and I went out to Arizona for the weekend because our best friends both live there. So she dropped me off in Phoenix to see Cynde and Ryan and then continued on up north to see Pam. Fun followed.

1.) Cynde and I haven't seen each other since our trip to Rome last year. (Ah, Rome.) So it was a grand reunion. And just like the last time we were together, we ate a lot of gellato. Cynde was explaining to a friend of hers, whom we ran into at a museum, that we've been friends since the tragic hair days of junior high and practically share a brain, to which the friend (a sassy elderly gal) said, "So you're half wits?" It was indecent how much I laughed over that one.

2.) Have you had fake meat? Cynde is a vegetarian and she introduced me to the world of fake meat and I have to say...I'm going to stick with the real stuff. It doesn't taste bad. It just doesn't take like meat. Plus it's squishy.

3.) Ryan got a Nissan Leaf, and 100% electric car. And driving in it was like driving to the future. It didn't make any noise at all and you half expect droids to come out and open the door for you.

4.) I was able to see my adorable friend Andrea and go to church with her. When the meeting started I noticed that there was a child sitting at the organ. And then Andrea leaned over and told me that their organist is 11 years old. ELEVEN! As in still in elementary school. But it gets better. She has been the ward organist since she was 10. I was barely playing with two hands at 10. I couldn't even spread my fingers wide enough to reach an octave at 10. I would have wet myself if the bishop had asked me to play the organ at 10. And she was good. She played like a pro. So much so that when it was announced that we would be singing all seven verses of How Firm A Foundation she played it at super sonic speed, like every seasoned organist knows you have to do in order to fight off the fatigue. Were we to have a True to the Faith battle she would school me. Are they growing organ savants out there in the desert?

5.) We spent all day Saturday at the Musical Instrument Museum. It was amazing. They have instruments from every inhabited country in the world and videos of people playing them. Totally fascinating. Here's what I have gathered: a.) most regions around the world have some form of the bagpipe; b.) people get pretty inventive when creating instruments, ex. gourd marimbas, mouthbows, Theremins; c.) third-world countries know how to throw a musical party. Nearly every video from the developing world was of some parade or hootenanny with people dancing in the streets or gathered around drums and bagpipes to shimmy, which I think makes them superior to those of us with 3-ply toilet paper. I'm not asking for Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I'd just like to have more opportunities around here to dance other than in my bedroom while listening to Abba on my laptop.

6.) I took one picture in the MIM. One on the whole trip, actually.

Elvis' jumpsuit. Naturally.

Magic Hair

2012-01-13T00:46:00.000-08:00

I had a very surprise job interview this morning (fingers crossed, kids). I got the call at 9 and told him that I could be down in an hour. To a place that was at least 20 minutes away. And I had not showered yet. And my hair definitely needed to be washed. And since I refuse to go into job interviews, or out in public for that matter, with a wet pony tail because it is a sign of defeat, it needed to be blown dry.

Now you're saying that this is impossible right? Because, considering my tumbleweediness and all of those cowlicks, my hair generally takes a solid 20 minutes to tame, which I did not have. I had 5. And yet, it happened. Because I think my hair dryer was swapped out for some sort of government sponsored top secret super machine that the Soviets would love to get their hands on. My hair was dry in 4 minutes and needed exactly 3 swipes of the straightening iron and suddenly it was the best hair day of my life. Sometimes magic happens just when you need it.

This and That and Felt

2012-01-09T15:56:00.000-08:00

A sampling of things I've worked up over the last few months of felting:

Han Solo bookmark

Princess Leia bookmark

A ballerina with a real tulle skirt. Legit!

A T-Rex. GRRRR.

Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson for contest winner Erin

A Cogsworth costume for a friend, modelled by Katie.

Mr. Darcy! (There was also a Captain Wentworth which I forgot to take a picture of.)

A Home Alone lap top cover.

Dr. Who on the front...

...and the TARDIS on the back.

An angel stocking for Eliza because...

...just look at that face. You're dying right now, aren't you?

Comma Coma

2012-01-05T22:34:00.000-08:00

Katie needed something edited so I got out a pen and started reading. And when I needed to verify a certain grammatical rule I pulled out the old Chicago Manual of Style...and spent the next 30 minutes reading it like a novel. Because what the real party girls do on a Thursday night is read up on the proper use of a comma in a compound sentence. (Conclusion: historically, yes. But used more so now only if it is needed to clear up ambiguities.)

While we're on the subject, I'd like to go on the record as stating I am for the Oxford, or serial, comma, even though it is going the way of Pluto. I think it helps in clarification, continuity, and aesthetics.

And now I'm going to go put on a muumuu and find myself a few cats because I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life if I keep talking about commas.

Resolve

2012-01-03T23:22:00.000-08:00

I have many New Years resolutions. Near the top of my list is to find out who is making the Kardashians so popular and destroy them.

What's yours?

The Great Hambino

2012-01-02T23:44:00.000-08:00

All the Knechts have returned to their homes in Utah (Dear Utah, I thing you're dumb. Please give me back my loved ones. Regards, Rachel) and I am left sighing over pictures of the Nephs and Niece. Like these on Camille's blog. Or these on Gina's which includes a brief video of Tom's tap dance routine. Whenever there was a lull we'd get the cane out and make Tom dance for us.

A few days ago we took the boys to the park and while watching them play we noticed a little butter ball of a kid. He was about three or four, short and round, his hair was buzzed high and tight and he wore a rugby shirt and grey sweatpants. He kept chasing after groups of bigger kids, desperate to play with anything that moved. I instantly wanted to take him home. To my joy he latched on to Ben who brought him over to our blanket and said, "This is Jake."

And then Jake said,

"Hi. I'm Jacob. But you can call me Jake. My dad beats up bad guys. He does karate moves on them. I know karate. Are those grapes? Can I have some grapes? Hey, Ben, let's eat grapes! That's my mom over there. Hi mom! (We all wave in a "we're not going to kidnap your son" way.) Is that a ball? Hey, Ben, let's kick this ball around. (Ben kicks the ball and Jake puts his head down and charges after it, only to pick it up and carry it back to Ben.) I got the ball! I got the ball! Ben, Ben, Ben, I got the baaaaalllll!!!!! Kick it again! This ball is great. Let's run. (The run around for a few minutes as only four year old boys can then come back.) We run. Me and Ben RUUUUNNNNN! I love to run. (We are now joined by Tom who starts eating some grapes.) Hey, Tom, share the grapes with Jake! Jake loves grapes. Let's go play in the sand. Bye, bye, bye, byyyyyyeeeeeee!!!!!!!"

This went on for about 30 minutes. Jake would come over and talk and talk and talk. His mom would follow and apologize for him lounging on our blanket and eating our grapes and I would wave her off because who doesn't love a kid like Jake?

When we got home we told everyone about this kid.

Me: "He was pudgy and cute."
Kylea: "He talked non-stop."
Casey: "He was the Great Hambino."

Yes. That's it exactly. He's the Great Hambino at age four.

Meat Juice

2011-12-29T00:36:00.000-08:00

It's been a Knecht Fest up in here. The whole fam is together and we've been yukking it up all week. Tonight we decided to let other people in on the fun and invited fifty or so friends to come over and celebrate the arrival of the newest Knecht, wee baby Levi, who is super-duper cute. So all day we were cleaning and cooking and generally getting ready and then for several hours tonight we entertained and laughed and laughed and laughed. And then everyone left and we sat around and watched Gina and Chris open all the presents and the real laughing began. Because our goal as a family is to make each other laugh. We are experts at this.

By the time we finished laughing and cleaning up and made it home we were sufficiently done in. But I still managed to trudge upstairs to water my neighbors' plants and when I walked inside I was hit in the face by the smell of rancid death. I looked around to make sure there wasn't a dead body anywhere but instead found that their freezer had exploded open and all of the contents had thawed and spilled out, leaving a rather large mess of rotten meat all over their kitchen floor. They are fit as two fit things and I believe eat a very Atkins-y type diet so they had enough meat in that freezer to feed a T-Rex and his family several meals. And now they have nothing, which makes me sick. And I'm going to have to call them tomorrow to break the news. And then invite them over for dinner for the next month.

So I went back downstairs and rally the troops (Katie, Casey and Kylea, who are staying with us.) and we gathered trash bags and mops and headed upstairs to take care of business. While Casey and Katie cleaned up the kitchen Kylea and I made a trip down to the dumpster (note to the people of Las Brisas: stay away from the dumpster - it is rank.) The bag I was carrying had about 50 pounds worth of formerly frozen meat and was already leaking a bit. When it came time to hoist my bag into the bin I was struck by how exhausted I was and started giggling over the whole situation. And then I couldn't manage to lift the bag. So I summoned all my strength and gave a mighty heave and just as the bag lifted off the ground the bottom fell out of it and the rotting contents inside fell all over my feet.

So naturally we both fell into fits of laughter. And we started scooping the rotting hamburger and ground turkey and kielbasa up with our hands, in the dark, mind you, and tossing them into the dumpster and all the while we're cracking up because we're so tired and it's so funny.

On the way back to the apartment I could feel my flip flops squish underneath my feet, leaving meaty footprints behind me, and I said what is now in the running for the title of my pending memiors: "I have meat juice on my toes."

It's Christmas, Keanu. Cheer up!

2011-12-23T10:40:00.000-08:00

Hannah needed stockings for her new husband and new dog to go with Richard Simmons.

She requested Ron Swanson

And Sad Keanu

And on that note: MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL YOU LOVELY, LOVELY PEOPLE.

The Snap Age Approaches

2011-12-20T22:47:00.000-08:00

I like to imagine when Ancient Man tried out the wheel for the first time to haul rocks with ease and comfort he said something along the lines of, "This is THE BOMB! Grog (this is Ancient Man's best friend), go tell the others that this new tool totally rules!"

Well, I have had my Ancient Man Discovers the Wheel moment with this snap attacher tool. Big deal, you say. Yeah. It IS a big deal. Snaps are pesky things to apply. They are teeny and come in multiple parts, some containing prongs that have a tendency to go all wonky if you breath on them wrong. You have to line them up exactly right and then bang them with a hammer and if they're just a hair off the whole endeavor is ruined and you have to spend a lifetime trying to pry the now useless snaps off of your project. Oh, I've had my troubles with snaps. But no more! I put in three snaps tonight on a felting project and got them all on in one shot. Like magic. I yelled out, "Katie, this is THE BOMB!" And she rejoiced with me because she was there for the Great Snap Meltdown of Christmas '010 where I openly sobbed over another felting project that had taken days, DAYS!, to complete only to be ruined when the snaps did not go in properly and then would not come out without the use of scissors and lots and lots of swearing. I went through a brief but fertile drawstring phase earlier this year where I made drawstring bags for all occasions. I sense the dawn of a new Snap Age approaching.

Holiday Antics

2011-12-18T23:14:00.000-08:00

It was one of those weekends where you just want to do high kicks all over the place because you're having such a good time. It included THREE outrageously fun parties, special occasion French Toast, a dance-off, karaoke, cheesy potatoes, a house full of Knechts, an apartment full of some of my favorite people, and lots and lots and lots of women in sequins dresses and fur stoles.

Just a couple of highlights:

1.) I wrangled a gig working the check-in table at a large hospital company Christmas party. Lucky, right? Because I LOVE doing stuff like that. Seriously. I love talking to total strangers, mostly because they give me great material. Like the doctor who came up and told me he was late because his Pomeranian didn't want him to leave and then he had to spend fifteen minute brushing pom fur off of his suit and thank goodness he didn't wear his tux like he did one year only to show up and feel totally over dressed so he just settled for his more subtle and suitable Christmas tie, which, it must be said, had dancing reindeer on it. Also, I love seeing what other people wear to parties. Oh, the sequins. And the sparkle. And the shorty short dresses. Some of their dresses were so small I was afraid they would catch pneumonia down there. Someone asked if I was having a good time and I said I was having the time of my life. And then they asked if I was being facetious and I said no because being paid $50 to sit around and people-watch with dinner and unlimited Shirley Temples included is my idea of a good time.

2.) I will just say this about karaoke. I love it and if you invite me and Camille to come along with you the next time you go we will sing a rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart that will make you weep.

3.) The annual Knecht Family Christmas Spectacular was on Friday. And I think that most of us all left feeling like it was one of the best we've ever had. Maybe Grandma and Grandpa were sending out double the party vibes now that they've teamed back up on the other side. Grandma loved her parties. And Grandpa loved basking in how much fun we all were capable of. I missed seeing him sitting in his chair and giggling at all of our antics. And you know there were antics. Antics are what we do best. And jazz hands. Which there were a lot of in this year's Knecht Sisters Holiday Number. (Some background: we took this from our favorite SNL Christmas skit that cannot be found anywhere on the internet. Trust me, we've all searched and search. Fortunately, it has worked it's way into our souls.) Enjoy, enjoy,enjoy.

The Pied Piper of Elegant Leisure

2011-12-15T21:27:00.000-08:00

Because of my unemployed Life of Elegant Leisure I get to spend more time with friends and their kids during the day. So lately I've been feeling like the Pied Piper. The kids, they're flocking. Yesterday was especially so. My friend Heather's kids have become my new best friends - they're the ones I had a coloring party with a few weeks ago. They were having a Grandparent's Day at school and since their grandparents live far away Kaiya asked if I would come as her Special Friend.

Would I!

I hung out with her in her classroom and we made a fancy construction paper Christmas tree and I chit chatted with the 7 year olds about who they liked more, Katy Perry or Taylor Swift (Taylor won out. I didn't even ask about the Bieb.) and then strolled around the book fair.

It was only the cutest thing I've ever done in my life.

When I got home from that I headed over to watch another friend's kids where we made enormous Lego towers and danced whenever we knocked them over. There was a lot of dancing.

And that's not all. Because after I got home from the Lego tower dance party Heather called to say they were coming over with a surprise. She and the kids brought me a Christmas present of multi-ethnic skin tone markers and color pencils. I did not know that these even existed! I can finally stop coloring everyone with peach skin.

Since I had a few hours of free time I invited the kids to stay over and color.

Is this not the best picture you've ever seen? We're coloring and painting and drinking hot chocolate with candy canes in them. I'm going to frame it and look at it whenever I'm having a rough day because that is nothing but pure joy.

I was just about to type that kids seem to be the way to go when it comes to having fun but then I recalled that just about an hour ago I had a Facebook exchange with my friend Andrea (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!) wherein we reminisced about doing crazy things like getting lost on a dead end road then nearly running over a hobo and wearing pioneer bonnets around Old Town Pasadena. So I will instead say that I appear to collect friends who don't mind having funny adventures with me - no matter what their age.

I want this more than I want a Slurpee machine

2011-12-13T23:01:00.000-08:00

Stephanie, my beautiful and talented and super thoughtful friend, posted this on Facebook for me:

AN ADULT SIZE BIG WHEEL!!!!!!!!

Would anyone like to buy my kidney so I can get one?

Do you need someone to cry with you? I'm your gal.

2011-12-11T22:50:00.000-08:00

Maybe you think I'm exaggerating when I talk about how I'm a sympathetic crier. How when I see someone crying I almost always start crying along with them.

I am not.

An example:

We have a Spanish branch in our stake and they were fresh out of pianists so I was asked to help out for the primary sacrament meeting program, which was today. With the exception of a few phrases and things I've pick up spending a lifetime in a southern border state (plus my love for Latin root words), I neither speak nor understand Spanish. Like a genius, I took German in high school and the only good it has done me was that one time in Tunisia when I was mistaken for a German tourist by a local shrimper. Anyway, after the program was completed the branch president got up to say a few words, very little of which I understood. A few minutes into it he got a little weepy - over what I can only guess. But those types of details do not matter to a sympathetic crier. Oh no, because there I was getting weepy right along with him. He could have been talking about that one time he lost his lucky socks. It matters not. When you are with me you do not cry alone.

Lesson Learned

2011-12-10T19:01:00.000-08:00

The girl ahead of me in line at the post office had flame tattoos running up her neck, a spiked cuff that looked like it came from Thunderdome and a beaded hoop dangling from that little flap of skin that connects your upper lip to your gums.

She turned around and said to me, "Oh wow, you look exhausted. I was exhausted the other day because I had been up all night because my boyfriend left me. Just packed all his things and left me. No note. And this was after he stiffed me for two months of rent and ran up my electric bill to take care of his reptiles. Lesson learned."

Another Blessed Nephew!!!!!!!

2011-12-08T16:35:00.000-08:00

Big News. I mean REALLY BIG NEWS!

Gina and Chris got themselves a baby boy!

Behold, Levi:

He was born on Tuesday and they signed the adoption papers this morning and brought the kid home.

Isn't he the greatest?! And the cutest?! And look at all that hair! And he has big lips just like his Favorite Aunt Rachel.!

We're all jumping for joy around here.

We've known he was coming for months now but for obvious reasons we kept it on the down low. Oh the lies we have told people when they would ask how Gina and Chris were doing. Oh, the deception. But no more! I asked Gina if it was okay that I posted it on the blog and she said, "Would you please. Let's shout it from the roof tops."

Have you counted the exclamation points? Consider it shouted.

Approximately ten spools

2011-12-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

It should be noted that when I got in line at Joann's with my two wee bits of embroidery floss totaling $.85 all the items in the basket of the woman in front of me had already been scanned and the checker was telling her, "That will be $62.71."

What followed was 10 minutes (TEN MINUTES!!!!!!!!) of the woman:

Explaining why her teacher discount card had expired

Explaining why she had an old teacher's union card

Digging around in her purse for her new teacher's union card

Asking the checker how she would go about getting an updated teacher discount card

Being informed that it was easy enough, she just had to go online to do it

Asking the checker if she couldn't just come into the store because sometimes she doesn't trust the internet to do things because once she had signed up for something online and it didn't work can you believe that.

Telling everyone around (including me as I smiled patiently) that she taught high school orchestra

"Yes, really! High school orchestra!"

Telling everyone around (including me, this time shooting laser beams out of my eyes) that she was planning on buying scarves for the orchestra to wear for their Christmas concert because she really didn't want to make them but here she was making them - sigh.

Laughing at herself for being so darn accommodating

Being told repeatedly that the total was $62.71.

Digging around her purse for her checkbook

Methodically licking her finger and flipping each previous duplicate in her checkbook until she came to the next check

Carefully writing out the check while saying out loud exactly what she was doing

Balancing her checkbook

Being handed her bags and her receipt and a "have a nice night" but refusing to move

Asking the checker if they have any Cricut books

Announcing to everyone (including me, now silently weeping into my embroidery floss) that she was planning on buying a Cricut in a few months and wanted to be prepared so she needed to know exactly where to find the Cricut books when that day came

Reluctantly walking away from the counter, only to leave her shopping cart in the aisle, thus blocking me and the five people who had lined up behind me from getting to the cash register

Moving the shopping cart after the checker beat me at shaming her into moving it but acting like she was just asked to move a giant bag of poo.

Blissfully going about the rest of her life never realizing that we were all imagining how many spools of grosgrain ribbon it would take to tie her up and dump her in the back corner with the discounted fabrics.

I'm a winner! Literally!

2011-11-30T22:09:00.000-08:00

Around 7 pm I reached 50,000 words, thus making me a NaNoWriMo winner. WOOT.

In celebration I did a very spontaneous but elaborate dance that involved lots of shimmying and jazz hands and fist pumps.

But here's the thing - 50,000 words is really just a long pamphlet. It's about half the length of a regular size novel. And my story isn't near finished. But it's definitely on the way. Also, boy is it garbage right now. There are moments of greatness but for the most part it is a jumbled mess. Which is to be expected. I wrote fast and did zero editing. I have not gone back to read any of it. I am hoping when I do I won't be completely disappointed with it. I don't think I will be. There's a good base there. We'll see how it plays out.

Things I've learned while spending November lashed to my laptop trying to convince myself to write:

1.) The internet is my enemy
2.) The more I complained about how hard writing was the less writing I did. Once I changed my attitude and started saying, "This is a piece of cake. Just a really time consuming piece of cake." my progress tripled.
3.) Cake is an excellent writing snack.
4.) Do not start reading a hard-to-put-down novel with just three days left.
5.) Writing without editing is incredibly freeing. But it makes for really crappy writing. I need to find a good balance.
6.) Writing with a goal is the best. Even when it was a daily goal. There would be days when I would say, "Okay, I'm not going to stop until I hit 3000 words for today" and then I would get there and realize that I was only 1000 words away from hitting a milestone on my total word count and then I'd get there and realize that I was just 1000 words away from hitting a personal daily best. I suppose this is what athletes do when they're pushing themselves. Just for the record, I'm sticking with writing.
7.) I always do better when there is a prize at the end - even if that prize is allowing myself an episode of Psyche on Netflix.
8.) It turns out all those wealthy, famous, published authors are right: sometimes all it takes is to just sit down and write.
8.) 50,000 was not that hard. Or rather, not as hard as I thought it would be. Relief!

Thanks to everyone who asked how the novel was coming along. Feel free to keep it up because there's still plenty of opportunities left for me to think I'm a talentless hack before it is completed. I need the accountability and encouragement.

And if you'd like - you may stop by and see my NaNoWriMo winner's certificate. I think I will get one of those double frames so it can be side by side with my nun chuck certificate.

Handel at the Nixon

2011-11-28T20:26:00.000-08:00

Just like most families, the Knechts start the Christmas season off with a trip to the Richard Nixon Presidential Library.

(Note - it's been a few years since I've been through the place but I remember loving how they simply glossed over the whole Watergate business. "Well, there was this thing with some tapes, but LOOK OVER THERE! Is that the White House china??!)

We actually go for the Messiah Sing-along that is held there every year. It is magical in many ways.

1.) It's a sing along. This blog is riddled with examples of my deep love for them. People who like to sing along to things are just more fun. We all know it's true.

2.) People dress up in period clothing. What period, you ask? Oh, any period. There were people in mid 18th century dresses - which is the period Messiah was written - with lots of bustles and ruffles and powdered wigs and tri-cornered hats, and then there were people dressed like Jane Austen. And a few more dressed like they were from ye olde Dickens novel. Basically any kind of Days of Yore attire is permitted. Which makes me want to dress like a hippie next year.

3.) The music is divine. And I mean that in the literal sense of the word. Every year the conductor tells the same story of how Handel was destitute and he came home one night and found several verses of scripture a friend left on his doorstep to give him comfort and within six weeks the entire thing was written and Handel tells everyone that all of Heaven was revealed to him as he wrote. Then the conductor always says, "I wonder what he saw," and then we sing, "Behold the Lamb of God". And then I weep like a baby.

4.) The clarinetist had the BEST toupee. I mean, it was epic. He was clear across the room from us when we first spotted him and even from that distance we all were like, "niiiice."

5.) The orchestra and choir are all volunteers so there's always a few squeaky and out of tune violins. Which I love because it just reminds me that people do this sort of thing because they love it. My voice is also squeaky and out of tune most of the time. There is no judging here.

6.) We sang the Hallelujah Chorus twice because it was so much fun.

Lydia the Tattoed Lady

2011-11-26T21:53:00.000-08:00

1.) There are four more days left in NaNoWriMo and unless a freak finger accident is in my future it looks like I will finish. That's right, I WILL FINISH! I'm only 5000 words behind on my count, which, I have learned, is nothing. I eat 5000 words for breakfast.

2.) My toenails are a shiny gold right now and they make me feel very festive and also like a superhero. It is my new favorite color.

3.) I saw The Muppets today and it was grand. I mean, really. And it got me thinking about one of my favorite clips from the old Muppet Show. Enjoy

Happy Thanksgiving Back

2011-11-24T22:33:00.000-08:00

There is a lot to be thankful for. I mean, really, a lot. And I'm not just talking about pie and stretchy pants here. I am a very lucky girl.

One of the things I am most grateful for are unintentionally funny people. To illustrate, here's a gem from tonight:

While sitting in a feast-induced coma my family ended up watching Wheel of Fortune and one of the contestants introduced himself thusly -

"Hi. I'm Andrew from Chicago. I have an adorable wife, an awesome cat named Squeemu, and I play the synthesizer." He later went on to say his favorite movie was Godzilla vs. Mothra and when he made it to the final round it was revealed he was wearing red skinny jeans.

I must have worked off at least half of my mash potato calories from laughing.

Dear Andrew from Chicago, I am thankful for you. Love, Rachel.

Nick Lachey is a Robot

2011-11-22T18:24:00.000-08:00

1.) Last night I watched my friend Heather's kids and we spent the whole two hours drawing, coloring and painting. A while ago I told them about my ridiculously large collection of art supplies and they were eager to see them so I brought them along and they were sufficiently impressed. I'm not going to lie, it's a pretty rad collection. There are hundreds of crayons (in standard, neon, metallic, glitter and glow in the dark), colored pencils, pastels, watercolors, markers, and glitter paint. It was kind of an awesome night. I love Heather's kids (K said, "I think we should start an art society," as seven year olds do.) and I love to color and now I'm trying to figure out how to get other kids to color with me because it was so much fun.

2.) I've done it. I've made amazing rolls. Year after year I try to make rolls and they always turn out sort of mediocre. But I was trying out a new recipe for Thanksgiving and I wanted to give them a test run so I made some this afternoon and THEY ARE INCREDIBLE. I feel victorious. (Fluffy Dinner Rolls from America's Test Kitchen baking cookbook. ATK has never failed me. I'm also making their sausage cornbread stuffing that I made last year and have been dreaming about ever since.)

3.) Is anyone watching the Sing Off? And is anyone else annoyed that Afro Blues was sent home? And does anyone else think that Nick Lachey may be a robot? He does not vary from his host mode at all. From the inflection in his voice to his shiny shirt/black slacks combo to the way he stands with his hip a little out to the way he drops his arm when he's done talking, everything is exactly the same week to week. It's creepy.

I hope their turkey is dry too

2011-11-20T22:57:00.000-08:00

Last night was rough. I had to fight it out with Verizon for an hour and a half.

Me: Do I need a new modem?
V: You may need a new modem.
Me: So I need a new modem?
V: Maybe
Me: Can you just tell me?
V: I'm not saying you do, but you probably do. Let me transfer you to someone who can sell you a new modem.
Me: I hope the marshmallows on your candied yams burn on Thanksgiving.

All of this went on while I was having the Worst Cramps of my Life. They were the full body kind that make you feel like someone took a meat tenderizer to your insides and then put on some brass knuckles and punched you a few times and then said mean things about your hair. They were so painful that about an hour into the phone call I felt like I was about to black out, but then I willed myself to go on because so help me if all that back and forth was for not! It turns out that it was entirely for not as this morning Katie rearranged some of the wiring and ta-da we have internet again.

Which I am grateful for. But I'm still hoping for disastrous yams.

Another thing I am grateful for...Los Angeles, and friends who want to have Adventures there. Me, Katie, Heather and Andrea spent yesterday (before the Verizon/Cramp Summit of '011) cruising the city. Andrea has lived here for several years but has never really seen anything so we took her all over the place. Beverly Hills, the Farmers Market, the Biltmore, we rode Angels Flight (which is the cutest thing you can do in LA. Best 25 cents you will ever spend.), and we capped it off with French dips at Philippe's. I've lived here my whole life and you know how much I love it. It's so much fun to show it off. Maybe I should look into becoming a tour guide. We saw a guy driving down Sunset in a van with no windows and the roof sawed off giving a tour to a family of red-heads. I could totally do that.

And it has to be mentioned: we started the morning off with breakfast at the Avocado House - Home of the Life Altering Cinnamon Swirl French Toast with Caramel Sauce. I would not be surprised if that stuff could cure cancer. At the very least it balanced out a night of cramps and a soul-crushing phone call with my internet provider.

Kwik, someone get me a sedative

2011-11-16T23:54:00.000-08:00

I'm putting Utah on notice for a gross misuse of the letter K. Over the weekend I saw the following:
Kamp
Kamping
Kampground
(none of the above were even at a KOA (which is also on notice) by the way)
Kwik
Physik
Kuantum
I get it, these people want to make their business stand out. They think they're being clever and cute and original. So I just have a few gentle words for them. YOU'RE NOT BEING CLEVER!!!! YOU'RE BEING DUMB!!!! PEOPLE THINK YOU CAN'T SPELL AND THAT MEANS THEY WON'T COME TO YOUR SHOP BECAUSE ONLY A MORON WOULD MISSPELL QUANTUM TO GET ATTENTION AND WHO WANTS TO SUPPORT A MORON???!!????!!!!!!!
Or maybe I just want people to not shop at places with intentionally misspelled words. Maybe I think we should boycott those shops. WHO'S WITH ME?! (Note to self: gather torches and pitchforks.)

Okay. Sorry about that. It's a touchy subject for me. A part of me dies when I realize grown ups do this sort of thing - as opposed to 13 year old girls, who are the only demographic who can legitimately get away with this as long as it's written in pink ink from a Hello Kitty pen.

And I'm serious about the boycott. We shall overcome!

Let is snow...somewhere else.

2011-11-14T18:58:00.000-08:00

Thursday night was a little busy for me and Katie. Our friend Andrea and her husband were in town and we had been invited over for dinner at her parent's house. And we were hosting book club afterwards. And sometime during those activities we decided that Gina needed some quality Sister Time. Now throw in packing and weekend-plans-and-responsibilities-adjusting and that made the night a late one. By 5:30 the next morning we were on the road to Utah. Adventure!

(Side note: Growing up with my dad meant we always left on trips for Utah before the sun came up. I think this hearkens back to the days when he was a kid and it used to take 20 hours to drive to Utah and you had to do it in an un-air conditioned car and you wanted to beat the heat of the desert. Or he just likes getting up early and getting miles behind him. Either way, it has been ingrained in us. If you ever drive to Utah with me, I'm sorry, but we're leaving early. I promise to bring good snacks and mixed CDs.)

So I spent the weekend in Utah, doing things like: going to the BYU Singers concert which was good but long, more good than long, but still, long; making homemade Butterfingers, (it will freak you out how close these get to the real thing); taking naps while watching White Christmas; going to Five Guys for dinner (1st timer here. I'm convinced.); visiting the other sibs and nephews and niece, who is, and I'm not even kidding here, the Cutest Sweetest Most Kissable Baby on the Planet; and going up to the Olympic Park in Park City where we were supposed to catch some bobsled races but missed it by like 10 minutes because the weather got too bad but we still got to see the athletes in their spandex man-pri uniforms. The Swiss looked a little snooty.

Speaking of weather, maybe you don't know this but I think cold weather is for chumps. And snow if for chumps with bad hair cuts. When we got out of the car at Park City I very nearly rushed back in. The wind. Oh, the wind. It was making the snow go all sideways. And it wasn't pretty fluffy snow. It was mini cannon balls of snow. Ice pellets of mass destruction.

Guess what I'm saying in this picture as I'm standing in the snow and the cold and the wind:

Here, I'll help you. I believe I was quoting Georgia, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF PANTS AM I DOING HERE?!?!?!"

This was me about 5 minutes later as we started marching into the wind towards the bobsled track:

10 seconds later I finally got smart and closed that top snap, making me all but invisible to the snow.

I will say this, snow is beautiful and this particular brand was perfect for snow balls, of which I made several. But I am a delicate flower and could only handle about 20 minutes out in the elements. The rest of our time was spent in the Olympic museum, where we watched highlights of the Salt Lake Games and I got totally pumped for the London Olympics (I want to start planning my Opening Ceremonies Party right this minute.) We stopped off for some lunch when we got down the mountain, where it wasn't snowy but still cold and I noticed several people wandering around in shorts and flip flops, like they were in Maui or something. I was aghast. Particularly when a gust of wind came by that was so chilling it almost made me burst into tears. When I asked Gina why people were dressed for the beach she said, "It's only 50 degrees." I didn't want to hurt her feelings by insinuating she had lost her California roots but around these parts 50 degrees means you had better find your can opener and head down to the bunker because the end is nigh.

No novel, but nicely trimmed nails

2011-11-09T17:00:00.000-08:00

The continuing list of things I've done instead of NaNoWriMo includes: trimming and filing my nails (I cannot be expected to type with long nails); searching every inch of my kitchen for an appropriate snack for writing (I thought it was popcorn but I was wrong); going to a friend's baby shower where I got to visit with the girls and snuggle a newborn; visiting another friend afterwards where I got to snuggle with her newborn (Oh boy, newborns. They're kind of the best thing ever.); making paper Christmas ribbons

Ack! I'm addicted. And for what purpose. It's not like I ever go out of my way to decorate presents. And it's not like people are going to keep those forever if I do. And yet, I can't stop.

For those of you interested I am officially 6051 words behind on my count. But I have a plot. A PLOT! That I'm pretty sure I have stolen from every single book I love. But at least I'm heading in some direction, right?

Do you know what else I have been up to instead of NaNoWriMo? Going to my writing group. I now belong to one with 3 friends. We all have similar goals in regards to writing and recognized the need to be brave in order to achieve those goals so we got together for the first time last night to critique. It was TERRIFYING!!!! Because you may not know this but 99.5% of every single thing I write I think it garbage. Oh, it's just so bad. And I have learned that every other writer on the planet feels the exact same way. So imagine how we all were feeling last night as we huddled around our little bits of work, anticipating confirmation that our fears are justified - we cannot write. And then it turned out to be just the opposite - we found out that we could. It was actually a really amazing experience for me. We were all kind and helpful in our critique and no one left in tears. And I came home inspired and ready to write. And what did I do this morning? Trimmed my nails and watched Gilmore Girls. But I'm getting there.

***************

In other news: I'm a little annoyed at my Jehovah's Witness best friend Jason who occasionally stops by to give me pamphlets and invite me to conventions because while I was visiting my friend her own JWBFF came by and gave her a present for the baby. What?! Jason is totally slacking on this. I was busy snuggling so I didn't get a chance to see them but had I been at the door I would have told them to pass it on to Jason that he can stop by anytime with a present. At least wrap the Watchtower magazine in a bow.

The Kids are Alright

2011-11-07T17:47:00.000-08:00

I think you all need to give me a stirring round of applause. Why? Because I was released as the Primary President yesterday and I didn't cry once...at church. At home - different story. Marvel at my self control!!! I've known it was coming for a few weeks now - which made last week's primary program even more of a tear-fest, and I actually have felt for some time now that it was imminent - I'm still the stake girls camp director and I made it clear that it was only through many, many miracles that I was able to do both this past year and that, while I was willing to do it again, maybe we shouldn't tax heaven so much the next time around. So I was prepared.

But do you know what I wasn't prepared for? How much I would love working in the Primary. Before I got in I would hear people say, "I love being in Primary. It's the best job in the whole church," and I was certain they were saying that just to make themselves feel better about the whole thing. Because who wants to spend 2 hours of every Sunday with 40 kids making sure they don't poke someones eye out when you could be having deep doctrinal discussions with adults?

Um, I do. Because those kids are awesome. They made me laugh every single week. And they sometimes said the most profound and really sweet things. And we got to sing a lot. Remember how freaked out I was about the whole thing? As all the kids were filing in on Sunday, giving me hugs and high fives, I felt like a total pro.

Next church adventure: Nursery Assistant. That's right - I'll be hanging with the toddler set, eating gold fish crackers and playing with bubbles. I'm thinking of instituting nap time.

Confetti Gun!

2011-11-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

Highlights from the Chino High School Band Review and Field Show Competition (which my sisters and I go to every year even though none of us were ever in band - we're just really big dorks and live for opportunities to cheer for people and eat snack bar food.)

1.) During the parade one of the bands shot off confetti guns, instantly making them The Greatest Band There. Those guns went off and every single person, young and old, shrieked in delight. I wonder if they have little personal use sized confetti guns. I think that would be fun to take into the bank.

2.) We ate multiple things covered in nacho cheese. WIN!

3.) We always sit right in front of where the flag girls line up just before marching for the Rose Parade judges. It is a joy to hear some of the things their coaches say to them, the best so far being, "Hands on hips, smiles on lips, ladies." Which, of course, is my personal motto. Also, we like to chat with the girls. Well, not so much chat as say things like, "You look super sparkly," or "I love your hair extensions," or "We want to see some big smiles out there," as they're waiting to step off. I like to believe it gives them that extra boost of confidence.

4.) As usual we became best friends with everyone around us. It's because we spread good cheer and crack jokes about flag girl costumes. And we're loud. We will not be ignored! Anyway, we made friends with everyone around us including Charlene the 53 year old flight attendant who came by herself even though she didn't know anyone in the competition (or have a deep rooted family tradition of going) and started off the conversation by saying, "You girls are so funny. I just came from a stand up class in Burbank and I've been listening to you and you're hilarious. I came here to meet men but you can never have too many girlfriends." She then spent the rest of the evening telling me about her glory days as a majorette and trying to convince us to come to another band competition in two weeks. I told her that if she brought her baton and stormed the field I'd consider it.

The pinata, the pinata

2011-11-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

Camille just messaged me to say that they're having a pinata at work today. She's the secretary at an Institute of Religion* and Mormon college kids are notoriously goofy, so it's not surprising. In fact, the only job I've had where that sort of thing could potentially happen was my student job at BYU in the Alumni House. We had treats every Friday and sloppy joe parties and Wear Your Overalls to Work Day (this applied mostly to our bosses (as it was the 90s and overalls were big with the kids) who were of an age that believed overalls were only worn on the farm.) On the first day of Spring every year we would all run down to the front lawn and frolic for 15 minutes. I cannot believe I didn't take advantage of the high caliber of fun that group possessed and suggest a pinata.

But now I know. Any job interview I go to from here on out I will ask, "What's your company's policy on pinatas?" A girl has got to have standards.

*Place where religious classes are taught for college-age kids. Known for their pool tables, abundance of snacks, and loitering youth.

My mantra for this month is: If Tyra can do it, so can I!

2011-11-01T11:01:00.000-07:00

I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month. That's right, folks, it's time I got around to writing a novel. By the end of November I should have at least 50,000 words and an ulcer because the truth is, I've never written that much in my life. Well, that much of one thing. I do better writing short things like blog posts and thank you notes. Every time I have attempted a novel I've gotten about 30 pages in and decided that 1.) I'm a talentless hack, 2.) I have no imagination, and 3.) I'm going to give it all up and learn how to do something that will actually make me money like cosmetology.

But can you think of a better time to do it than right now? I'm a woman of elegant leisure. I have all the time in the world. So what if I don't have an imagination. Or a plot. Or realistic and interesting characters. They say that all you really need is a deadline and November 30th is pretty firm.

But take a look at my list of activities this morning and see how this could play out:

Turned on my computer, all set to write
Checked my email
Checked Google Reader
Read a few articles in the LA Times
Read up on Kim Kardashian getting a divorce (I'm pretty ashamed about that one)
Fixed myself some breakfast
Talked myself out of playing a round of online Scrabble
Wrote this blog post instead

David Franzen (who writes big books) said he removed all games from and physically disabled the Net portal on the computer he writes on. I totally get why. Distractions are the death knell of my creativity.

But I'm determined. So feel free to ask me how the writing is coming along. Check in to make sure I'm keeping up with my daily word count goal (2000/day). Ask me if I have finally come up with a plot line that involves the characters doing more than just sitting and watching TV for 100 pages.

Tyra did it (sort of)(I mean, she wrote a lot of words). Surely I can too.

Candy Corn Cuteness

2011-10-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween (tomorrow)! My ward has already had their party. I went as a candy corn

My cuteness knows no bounds.

It's felt, natch. But the flash gave it a sheen, thus making me look like Judy Jetson in her space age ice cream parlor uniform. I added that orange band around the hat because without it looked like the Pope's.

In other news: We had our Primary sacrament meeting presentation* today and the kids KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK. They were so calm and poised and not a single one of them showed any sign of nerves. Even my little four year old who refused to say his part in any of the practices we had finally lifted his head and spoke into the mic. They all sang loud and clear and were so sweet and funny and cute. Ugh, those kids. They're the best.

*Mormon Glossary: The 3-11 year old set gets to take over the main portion of church and share what they have been learning. It is, by far, the best Sunday of the year. Aside from them being so sweet and adorable you know that at any moment one of them could absolutely lose it. It's kind of thrilling.

A stroke is no excuse.

2011-10-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

Hey, head on over to my family's blog for a Mom-fest. It's her birthday. There are cute pictures and a mention of her legendary chocolate chip cookies.

In other news, I am continuing my campaign to teach people the proper way to drive through a four-way stop. There's one near Katie's school that she has regularly written off to the devil. In the last week I have had to drive through it a number of times and she's right - it is Satan's handiwork. People seem to just go whenever they feel like it. Today, for example, I came to a stop about a second after the person to my right, which gave her the right of way. Even if we got there at the same time, she still had the right of way. But she didn't go. I gave her a very generous 5 seconds and a wave and she still didn't go. So I decided that she was having a stroke and headed into the intersection. It wasn't until I was directly in front of her car that she decided that it was, in fact, her turn to go and proceeded forward, nearly slamming into my car in the process and angrily honking at me as I drove off. Last week I went through when there was a line of cars on all four sides. Bedlam.

Maybe I'll use my current status as a Woman of Elegant Leisure and Ample Free Time to stand out there and direct traffic. I've always wanted to do that.

"Don't put too much mustard on the hotdog, Captain"

2011-10-23T22:36:00.000-07:00

The Fam spent the weekend up at Big Bear Lake. It was, as anyone who knows my family can imagine, a 48 hour laugh riot. Activities included playing games like Reverse Charades (no joke, folks, this is the Funniest Game I've Ever Played Period.), figuring out how to get the water on (we were at a friend's cabin and the city had turned the water off, unbeknownst to all of us), smoking out the game room by trying to light one measly fire, eating lots of ice cream cones, several trips down the Alpine Slide (weeeeeeee!!!!!), and watching Dad demonstrate yoga poses (could possibly rival Reverse Charades for funniest moment.)

In addition to all of that some of us took a boat tour around the lake. This was notable for two reasons.

1.) As we boarded the boat we noticed that a few people were a little over dressed. There was an old woman in a fur coat. Another with an enormous flower in her hair. And a man dressed in a slick suit with one of those collarless dress shirts that I find so distasteful. He was sitting near us and we kept calling him the Reverend. Turns out we were right because halfway through the tour Captain Jack (really) announced that we were in for a surprise. A couple was going to be married at the bow. So we all headed out to watch the ceremony. Super sweet. It was just the two of them and their moms (Fur Coat and Flower Head), one of whom was totally surprised by it. They exchanged rings that were still attached to those floating key chain contraptions. And near the end a fisherman on a nearby boat must have caught something because he gave out quite a whoop. It was joyous.

2.) After the wedding we cruised back up the lake and passed by the town of Fawnskin (which years ago I visited and wrote about while lamenting about not having any friends with boats.) Captain Jack asked if any of us remembered from earlier in the tour what the people who live there are called. I was the only one to respond, "Fawnskinians." The captain was so excited that someone was actually paying attention that I decided to take advantage of the situation and ask if I could drive the boat. Some of you may not even consider asking a captain if you can take the helm. That just shows that some of you lack imagination. One of the rules for a Life of Elegant Leisure and Grand Adventure is: when given the opportunity to drive the boat, take it. Who knows how many people you will impress when you open up a conversation with "So I was captaining a large vessel across Big Bear Lake..." I am thrilled to report that he let me. I made my way up to the wheelhouse and he handed me the captains hat and showed me how to keep her on course and continued on with the tour while I guided us to port. After deftly avoiding running over a local fisherman I waved to the crowd to let them know everything was under control and Captain Jack (or, you know, my first mate) said possibly the best line all day, "Don't put too much mustard on the hotdog, Captain." Which would become my life motto, except that I'm a firm believer in lots of mustard. You don't get to wear the captains hat by skimping on the mustard.

Me, at the helm.

My boat. A grander vessel there never was.

Nacho Cheese

2011-10-19T23:35:00.000-07:00

Camille photographed the wedding of our cousin Jessica to Alan on Saturday and I stood in as her assistant. (My main duties were basically shading her lens and holding the bouquet and saying things like, "Ooh, that's a good shot," and "Nice." My services are available to all photographers, but I don't come cheap.) Those two love birds were professionals. It's like they take wedding pictures every single day. Or have read Modelland cover to cover. They were relaxed and funny and made the job super easy. The whole day was actually quite lovely. Partly because on the way home from the temple we had decided we needed Slurpees and thought we'd do a proper gas station lunch:

Slurpees, nachos and a candy bar. The perfect meal, right? While not technically a food (and I'm not ever sure it could even be considered a fake food), nacho cheese is my guilty pleasure. It's creamy and cheesy and orange, three things I love! And my Slurpee was the perfect mixture of Pina Colada, Cherry Orange, and Citrus Blast. That is some fine dining, my friend.

What is your guilty pleasure food (real or fake)?

Pork Bun, Revisited

2011-10-18T22:18:00.000-07:00

Remember this? Of course you do, it was last week. You're no dummy.

Well, Gina and Camille have started to lovingly refer to each other as Pork Bun. The other morning Camille got a text from Gina saying, "Call me when you wake up," so she did and they chatted and at the end Gina said, "You know what my original text to you was? 'Hey Pork Bun, call me when you wake up.'" Camille asked why she didn't send it and Gina responded, "I did, except that I sent it to my friend by accident." Her friend called her and asked, "Was this meant for me?" and Gina explained. And then her friend said, "Do you really call your sister Pork Bun?"

Doesn't everyone?

Gifts from a Kiwi

2011-10-17T23:50:00.000-07:00

EEEEEEE!!!!!!! Guess what arrived on my doorstep today! A package from New Zealand!!!!!! This blog has introduced me to some lovely little Kiwis who not only are funny and sweet and thoughtful but who send me things. I love friends and I love packages. Win win! (Also, I love this blog. Who knew it would bring me so much joy.)

Tessy wanted something felty but I can't take orders from people outside of the US because of the whole money exchange business so I said we could just make a swap. I could send her something made of felt and she could send me something unique to her area, like a Hobbit.

Boy, did she. Well, not a Hobbit. She did say she looked for the One Ring but that was destroyed on Mount Doom.

But she made up for it in snacks. Behold the New Zealandy loot:

There's candies (one called Pineapple Lumps - which is the must unfortunate and unappetizing name ever - that are like Charleston Chews but pineapple flavored. Yum.) and Marmite (I'm going to give it another try after my first and only attempt 20 years ago of eating fermented yeast, which did not end well.) and Milo (a chocolate beverage which I plan to wash the Marmite down with.), some music, a lovely necklace, a book and postcards, a calendar and a NZ flag and an All Blacks flag (go All Blacks!)(that's rugby)(there's a World Cup going on right now and truthfully I don't follow the sport but it just seems appropriate now to root for them.) and a mini Buzzy Bee which is a toy that was made popular thanks to Prince William the Toddler, and a map so when I go out to visit I will know where I can find and hug my favorite people.

And for something truly unique, there is some yarn made of possum wool. You read right. Wool made from possum. I don't know about you folk but around here possums aren't the most luxurious creatures. And doing a little research it looks like possum wool is unique to New Zealand (Teresa, our resident yarn expert who only reads this blog about once every 3 months, can verify). So I'm trying to imagine in a country that has more sheep than humans why someone would look to the possum and say, "I'd like to make a sweater out of that." They must be velvety soft down there. The yarn looks and feels like regular old, non-vermin yarn so keep your eye out for some sort of scarf in the near future.

Thanks Tessy! I'm going to learn the New Zealand national anthem and sing it while marching around my apartment waving the flag.

Modelland, gross hair, cream puffs and surviving consumption

2011-10-14T23:24:00.000-07:00

1.) I've survived the consumption. Although I've had a bit of a relapse last night and today. Because yesterday I had a burst of energy after holing up in my apartment and watching countless hours of Gilmore Girls (what else is a girl to do in such a weakened condition). I ended up cleaning my bathroom, vacuuming, dusting, cleaning the kitchen, including moping the floor, shopping for fabric, shopping for groceries, visiting my mom, making a Halloween costume for a friend, making cream puffs and hosting book club. By the time the ladies left last night it hit me that I was nigh unto death and I was in bed within 10 minutes. A record. But book club is always worth it.

2.) If you're going to have a book club you should read the Wednesday Wars. And not just because it's a great book. But also because cream puffs play a dominant part in it. Which means that when your friends come over for book club they'll bring an assortment of cream puffs. We had 4 different kinds. You cannot beat that.

3.) Stacy convinced me to try not shampooing my hair. As in, get it wet and condition it and rinse it out, just don't shampoo. She's been doing it (or rather, not doing it) for a few weeks now and claims her hair has become luxurious. And truly, it looked that way when we Skyped on Sunday. So I gave it a shot this morning. EPIC FAIL. When my hair dried it looked like I had soaked it in left over cooking oil and then styled it with lard. And then it hit me - I already have decent hair, minus the tumbleweediness and robust cowlicks. Why change anything? Shampoo it is.

4.) I finished Modelland. It is the crappiest book I've ever read in my entire life. Holy Cats in a Bag, it is so bad. If I didn't love Tyra and her loony ways it would have been a nightmare for me. I wouldn't have made it past page 20. It is so bedazzled with descriptions of the craziest things - things I can't even recount or describe because there were so, so, so many. There were several moments (ok, every page) that I thought, "Is this even a book? Or did Tyra's brain just vomit all over these pages?" Which is to say, it was awesome. I will be hosting a dramatic reading from it in a few weeks. You are all invited and must come prepared to smize.

Gasp

2011-10-11T12:23:00.000-07:00

am dying of consumption...please send ice cream.

How do you say angry in Chinese?

2011-10-09T22:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm going to show you this picture first to make it clear I was an adorable child.

That's me in the hat on my first birthday. And that's Gina, flashing her knickers.

Now that we have established that, here's another picture:

Gina's all "Look at my luxurious bangs." And I all, "Who stole my pork bun?" Because I have clearly morphed into a very angry 80 year old Chinese woman.

A short list of good things

2011-10-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

1.) Watching Casablanca outside on a big screen and remembering that it's an awesome movie.

2.) Warming my hands on a cup of hot chocolate after watching Casablanca outside and fah-REEZING.

3.) Finding out the Tigers beat the Yankees while warming my hands on hot chocolate. WOOT!

4.) Coming home and Katie remembering that she brought me a left over Lil' Debbie brownie. Ah, childhood.

5.) Watching Parks and Recreation while bundled up in my Dodger snuggie.

6.) Finally getting around to switching to October on my Abba wall calendar and finding this picture:

Nice overalls, Bjorn.

Pajama Day

2011-10-05T23:44:00.000-07:00

It was a pajama day.

For the record, I did change out of my jim-jams today. I changed from a shorter pair of jammy pants to a longer, warmer pair of jammy pants and put on a different t-shirt, which I then covered with a sweatshirt, because suddenly it's all cold and fall like around here. And also, for the record, I showered and washed my hair and shaved my legs. And I put on a bra, which connotes some level of responsibility, right? But I wore pj's all day long.

Even though I spend the majority of my time at home these days I still make it a point to get dressed and do my hair and put on mascara because it makes me feel more like a human being who is an active part of society. I find that I am way more productive when I get myself ready for the day, even if it is just to fill out online job applications. But the odds were stacked against me today.

1.) It rained all day. I have mentioned here before that I have a made-up condition called weather paralysis which means that I feel like I am not capable of doing anything but eat cheese and watch Pride & Prejudice when it's cold and rainy.

2.) I have two of the largest zits that have ever sprouted on any face in the history of all zits. And faces. Which is a really long time. What I am saying is that they are enormous and if mascara and non-stretchy pants makes me feel human, these zits make me feel like an alien from the planet Sad And Tragic.

3.) Also from the planet Sad And Tragic, I woke up with a sty. Gah.

4.) Did I mention is was cold and rainy?

So, you see, it HAD to be a pajama day. And I did, in fact, eat cheese and watch Pride and Prejudice, all 5 hours, while hunched over my crafting desk, submerged in felt. Apparently I can be productive without mascara.

This and That and Tyra

2011-10-04T00:13:00.000-07:00

1. We don't watch a lot of Wheel of Fortune around here but when we do Katie kills it. She's a Wheel savant. It will be a 15 word phrase and she'll get it with two letters up there. I usually don't even have it by the time the contestants have bought all the vowels and they keep spinning to get more money. So I felt pretty good about myself tonight when I got one before she did. Woot! But what I really felt great about was recognizing one of contestants as a very bit character from Gilmore Girls who's maybe been in like 10 scenes total. And there she was spinning for cash. So I'm a Gilmore Girls savant.

2. After dinner I said, "I could use some chocolate cake right now," and Katie said, "There's a recipe for individual microwave chocolate cake in the Food Network Magazine," (which, for the record, is a great magazine. Trust your friend. You'll want to make every recipe.) I am very suspicious of things being cooked in a microwave. Warmed up in a microwave, sure. But baked? I don't know. (I wonder if the folks in Days of Yore felt this way about the gas range.) But a girl has got to take a few risks if she wants cake. And ta-da! It worked. Chocolate cake in under 10 minutes. Revolutionary! It's more souffle-ish, and it could definitely use some whipped cream or frosting or chocolate sauce, and the recipe makes more that I could eat (can you believe that?), but who am I to complain about such speedy results?

3. I'm reading Tyra Banks' book Modelland and it is the Capital of Crazytown. I'm marking my favorite passages and I think I need to host a dramatic reading. Who's interested?

Beware the Waters!

2011-10-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

For the last month the water here has both tasted and smelled like dirt. I asked Katie and she said she didn't taste or smell anything. I went out to eat with Holly to a place in Claremont where the water also tasted like dirt (yeah, Claremont, even you) and she said she couldn't taste anything. I was beginning to think that I had a brain tumor that was affecting my senses. I would die a poor spinster, alone with my felt.

But it wasn't a tumor. It was just my mutant sense of smell. Because 3 days after I had the bad water in Claremont I got a text from Holly saying it was bad in LaVerne. And at the same time I was down in Chino at the old homestead and it was gross there too, and I wasn't the only one who thought so. And then suddenly Katie could taste it at our place. And then my dad told me today that he heard on the radio that the water supply for western San Bernardino County and Eastern LA County (I live about 1 mile from the county line. I'm at the epicenter of bad water.) has an algae bloom that's causing the water to taste like dirt. Fantastic. We can all rejoice that I'm not going to die alone with my felt, and they claim that it is harmless and are handling the situation. But even so, my water still tastes and smells like it's being pumped in from a pond.

On a tangential note, last night I had to make a quick run into Stater Bros. to pick up some hamburger buns and the man in front of me at the check out was buying 20 cans of Friskies cat food and 20 packets of Kool-aid mix. I initially thought that he was throwing a party for his cats but now I'm wondering if he's trying to mask the taste of the nasty water. I like his style (even though he looked like a hobo). I'm always up for Kool-aid.

The Haftan

2011-09-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

The nice thing about not having any extra money to spend is that I can try on whatever clothes I want without having to worry about the cost. Everything is outside of my budget so why not try everything on? I had an hour to kill before the movie last night so I headed over to Macy's to play dress up and while perusing the selection came across this little number:

You guys! It's an orange and cream zebra print halftan!!* Because of the spending moratorium the only price that would have worked for me was free but oh how I laughed myself silly in the dressing room. It is so Golden Girls! Doesn't it just make your day?! And don't you wish it came with a turban, a pair of silk pants, and a stack of personalized stationary? If it did I could go as a legitimate Woman of Elegant Leisure for Halloween.

I'm not sad about leaving it in the store because twice before I have found pieces that I loved during a spending moratorium and have gone back months later once I could spend again and have found them significantly reduced and in my size. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. And then I can get down to some serious lounging. A turban should be easy to make, right?

*A caftan that only goes to the hips. Rotating the picture cut off the bottom.

The community who watches musicals together stays together.

2011-09-29T22:24:00.000-07:00

There's a very large outdoor mall around here and they're showing old movies out on their grassy knoll on Thursday nights. Tonight was Singin' in the Rain so Katie and I headed over. I cannot pass up Singin' in the Rain. It is one of my favorites. Also, I cannot pass up watching a movie outside on a balmy autumn night while eating Mexican food. Perfect? If a Slurpee had been involved it would have been.

The group sitting next to us were clearly super fans. You know how much I love super fans. One of the guys was laughing at (and I'm not exaggerating) every single funny line, like it was his first time seeing it, and also like he was drunk, which I don't think he was. I am a big proponent of communal events such as this for the simple reason that people who go to these types of things go with the intent of enjoying themselves. It makes for a nice crowd.

It's Victoria Gardens if any of you locals are interested. Next week is Casablanca, if you'd like to join us. The movie starts around 6:45.

Because I'm curious, what is your favorite musical? Mine - The Sound of Music. Duh.

Chocolate Frosty is Redundant

2011-09-27T20:19:00.000-07:00

Does it bother anyone else when you order a Frosty at Wendy's and the drive-thru gals asks, "A chocolate Frosty?" As if a Frosty, by it's very definition, isn't chocolate. I know that Wendy's is coming out with all of these other Frosty-like concoctions but a Frosty is first and foremost a CHOCOLATE frozen treat. If it's not chocolate it's not a Frosty. If I wanted something vanilla (I'm just being hypothetical here) I would have specified.

I never say anything because I remember how it was way back in the day when I worked the concession stand at a movie theater. Normal, functioning, educated people turn into blithering chimps when they order food. At least once a night someone would ask for a Coke, I'd hand it to them, they'd drink half of it and proclaim that they wanted a Dr. Pepper. People would walk down the length of the counter looking in every single candy case, which were all stocked with the same things, and ask for Jordan Almonds, which we did not sell. They would ask for fresh popcorn, meaning they wanted us to stand right next to the kettle, wait for it to pop out and catch it in the bag for them. And then they'd eat half the bag and ask for it to be topped off.

I suppose I should be happy that the kid at the drive-thru is just trying to be thorough. But it still feels like an affront to all that we hold dear in this country to consider a Frosty to be anything but chocolate.

The Noses Knows

2011-09-24T23:43:00.000-07:00

After one hour of sitting in a room full of women wearing perfume the skin around my lips and eyes started to get tight and tingle, my cheeks were hot, my throat burned, my eyes felt fuzzy, my head hurt, and worst of all, the deep inner ear itch set in. And even hours after I can still smell it. It's like a bad house guest has moved into my nostrils.

Wolverine has awesome claws for his mutant power. I have a nose.

Crafty McCrafterson Over Here

2011-09-21T16:11:00.000-07:00

I've been crafty lately. The hint of fall (as in, it cooled down to 80 the other day) and all this free time has accommodated that. Some recent crafty things:

1.) Oh, wait, but first, I got serious about organizing my craft desk. It's this old roll-top that a roommate left behind (Amanda?) and when I'm in the midst of a project it is a wreck. There are scraps of felt and teeny beads everywhere. And the felt is normally bulging at all points. So I got down to business and organized it all. That felt is packed so tight in there I'm afraid one minor earthquake or a sound door slam or my wonderful upstairs neighbors (whom I love, really and truly I do and they are so nice and neighborly about the whole thing and only exercise during the day so it's hard to be bothered, although I think they may be made of steel) doing their P90X and the whole collection will come exploding out of it shelves.

Things of note: There are tons of drawers and they're all filled with fabric and yarn and needles and hooks and patterns and fasteners and notions; I'm in love with my ribbon collection; That thing on the top left? it's an old train signal that belonged to my great grandpa, who was an engineer, and Katie and I borrowed if from our parents for a party we were throwing where we needed mood lighting, I think it was Liz's Beatnik Poetry Reading Birthday Party - which, it must be stated, was a resounding success.

2.) Speaking of hooks, I got tired of my crochet hooks just rolling around in the needle and hook drawer. So I made them a cute bag

You can get handy hook organizers just about anywhere but I have found that they are kind of bulky. This is compact and also, cute.

3.) My pal (and Sister In Arms in the Pursuit of Social Awkwardness and Anxiety)(T, I'm going to needlepoint that on a pillow for you) Teresa, commissioned this

It's not just a cute bag (I'm clearly on a drawstring kick). Look inside.

Monkey and alligator finger puppets! For that terrifying kiddie song 5 Little Monkeys Swinging In A Tree, where the alligator sneaks up on them and snatches them out of the tree, presumably to feed them cookies, I HOPE.

4.) And finally, in the pursuit of trying to get rid of some of my crafty stuff (if only to make room for more), I have made an afghan from scrap yarn.

I like how it turned out. But, sadly, I can't keep it. Because I already have stacks and stacks of blankets. And I live in a place that doesn't often require them. And if the point of making it was to create more space then it's got to go. Which is me saying it's yours for the asking. If no one wants it I'll just hand it over to the DI, which was the original plan. But if you can give it a home, just let me know.

The Woman of Elegant Leisure Strikes Again

2011-09-19T18:11:00.000-07:00

Did you hear I'm looking for work...again. Ugh. My time at the Pod came to an end a few weeks ago. I miss everyone there, but I do not miss, among other more serious things which we will not discuss, the smell of old people or the occasional glimpse of a foot that looks like meatloaf. (Have I mentioned to you to avoid diabetes like the plague. Because I think it may actually be a plague. Like toads and locusts type of plague. Egad, the horror.) It was a good run, and I knew it would only be temporary and, let's face it, what other job would let me flit off to Africa for 3 months and still welcome me back with open arms? The answer is: no other job. So I'm grateful for the time there, but do so miss a regular income.

Being back on the job hunt has reminded me how much I hate the job hunt. Mostly because it feels like an enormous waste of time. You're basically spending a lot of time putting out feelers and sending out resumes and filling out online applications that take all morning to complete (read: this morning). Only to hear nothing but your bank account gasping for breath in the distance. I recognize the importance of all this effort (I went for an interview last week and the guy gave me an A. Like, he literally wrote it on the top of my resume. I high fived myself!) and I certainly put the time in but it gets old not seeing a whole lot of results. Also, did you know how many scam job postings there are on Craigslist? Possibly a gajillion.

So, there's that. But there's also the joy of a free schedule. I love going to the grocery store in the morning with the other old ladies. I love going to gym when the gym rats aren't there to disturb my workout with all their grunting and preening. I love writing a little itinerary out for myself every night (8:00 am, make breakfast, 8:30 am make something funny out of felt, etc.) and checking things off my to-do list. One day the Wealthy Benefactor will come along and he'll be amazed at how well I fill my leisure time. I'm a pro at it.

Girly Things

2011-09-15T23:40:00.000-07:00

At book club tonight it struck me that what we talk about is exactly what men imagine large groups of women talk about. That is: bras, cramps, chocolate, labor and boobs. We also talk about other things, like the book, but we will always come back around to those 5 standards. I'm not ashamed. Because we always have such a grand time.

Tonight, we were discussing Persuasion and the topic turned to the various adaptations. The best is the 1995 Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root version. Do not try to convince me otherwise. But the more recent and substandard BBC version came up, which meant that I had to do my impersonation of Anne Elliot as she races across Bath, leaping over baskets and invalids in the street, in search of Captain Wentworth. A scene which, by the way, did not happen in the book because it would have been a scandal. What Jane Austen heroine ever ran - except for perhaps Harriet Smith when she's being pestered by the gypsies. No, it is too ridiculous. Anyway, all that sprinting ends with The Most Awkward Kiss in Cinematic History. Naturally we had to pull out the copy and show everyone:

Oh, how we howled. We shrieked and cringed and howled with laughter.

And then we ate PMS Brownies and talked about boobs some more.

It Was a Good Day at the Fair

2011-09-14T19:56:00.000-07:00

I missed the LA County Fair last year because I was busy being hit on by Tunisian date farmers. An experience I would not have passed up, so it's no complaint. But while Tunisia does have an abundance of men offering you 300 camels to stay in the Sahara with them, it does not have many deep-fried things on sticks. So I was understandably eager to return this year.

1.) There was an entire display in the student arts & science exhibit of famous scientists made out of felt. And suddenly I did not feel so alone in the world.

Ben Franklin

Jane Goodall

Edward Scissorhands

2. I don't gamble, but were I to start it would be on horses. I LOVE watching a horse race. And not just because it reminds me of the Ascot scene in My Fair Lady (Definitely one of my all time favorite movie scenes. Ever.) It's just so exciting to pick a horse - based almost exclusively on how pretty I think it is - and cheer it on.

3. The majority of the stuff you can buy at the fair is pretty dumb. Like this toilet paper holder.

Friends, If I see this in your home I will be so embarrassed for you that I won't be able to look you in the eye ever again.

But if I see that you have purchased this:

as we did, then I will think you the smartest of all people. A slushy maker! And it really works! You put your chosen beverage in the cup with the special ice cubes and shake and in a minute you have a slushy! It is, as the sign says, magic.

4. My dream of all fair dreams is to win 1st prize for jam. Not that I'm an exceptional jam maker. I make strawberry jam every year and it turns out fine but I feel like one of these times something magical will happen and I'll make a sensational batch and that blue ribbon will be mine.

5. Let's face it, if it weren't for fair food the place wouldn't be nearly as charming. The only problem is that there are so many options you don't know where to start. Here's the trick, get one of everything and share. We had the usual, chocolate milk, corn dog, bloomin' onion, funnel cake, ice cream, but we also tried something new - the Potato Tornado:

A potato on a stick, deep fried and covered in a suspicious, yet delicious, powdery substance. Winner.

6. And finally, a tip: DON'T RIDE THE RIDES!

You guys! That is a ROLLER COASTER ON STACKS OF WOOD!!!! No doubt set up by some 17 year old carnie making minimum wage with an acne problem that is only slightly less worse than his marijuana problem. We could have tossed our stick from the Potato Tornado at it and the whole thing would have crumbled.

Wizard vs. Jedi

2011-09-12T20:38:00.000-07:00

There is a healthy debate going on in my family right now that we need your help with:

Wizard vs. Jedi.

Who would win?

Let's say Voldemort and Obi Wan were going at it. Voldemort is handy with a wand but Obi Wan has that whole mind control thing.

I have a feeling we're really late to this debate so I expect all of you to have a firm argument already prepared.

And I'll just save you all the trouble and stuff myself in a locker.

Winged Crawly Things

2011-09-07T18:25:00.000-07:00

For about an hour yesterday afternoon my bedroom was under attack. I was sitting in my reading chair when I noticed something crawling across my window sill. Something winged but not really flying. And then I saw another. And another. So I opened the blinds and saw the horror. Hundreds of winged crawly things were swarming the top of my window screen, desperately trying to get in. I shut the window and did a quick scan of the room and noticed that a few dozen had breached the barricade and were moving across my ceiling like the Spanish Armada. Who knows what they were after. Possibly the Otter Pop stash. I got right to business. Crawling bugs I can handle. Had they been using their wings I would have had to move to Australia. I pulled out the vacuum and sucked them all up. And then, armed with nothing by my wits and a can of Raid, I opened the window and took out the majority of them through the screen. This is what was left.

I then proceeded to move everything away from the walls and violently rustle my bed linens to make sure that none were hiding out for a sneak attack later on. Within the hour the survivors had retreated and the only evidence of the battle were the remains of two of their fallen comrades in the corner of my window sill that is behind my desk and thus a little hard to get to.

I'm giving myself a Medal of Valor. You're invited to the presentation ceremony.

Eating Labor Day Weekend

2011-09-06T19:42:00.000-07:00

Fancy things I ate over Labor Day* weekend

Beignets at the Appels made by James. Do not inhale when taking a bite. Or laugh. Or do laugh and revel in the powdered sugar cloud. Thanks for letting me invite myself over!

Grilled BBQ Chicken Pizza. Have you done this? Cook the pizza right on the grill? It's faster than putting it in the oven and really, really yummy.

Strawberry Watermelon Parfait whipped up by Katie. Basil lemon whipped cream is suddenly my new favorite flavor.

And, though not fancy, we did stop in at Cielito Lindo's for taquitos and horchata after our Dodger Stadium tour. If you come out to visit and I give you the Grand Tour of Los Angeles, this will be one of our stops. Because I love you that much.

*Admit it, if pressed, you would not be able to completely explain Labor Day. You think that it may have something to do with unions and Jimmy Hoffa.

Dear Nancy Bea

2011-09-04T23:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Nancy Bea Hefley - Organist for the Los Angeles Dodgers,

So I took a tour of the stadium yesterday. It was pretty spectacular. We went up to the press box.

Here's my view if the Times wants to give me a job as a sports writer.

We went to the luxury suites and choked when our tour guide told us they cost $4000-$6000 per game. Incidentally, our tour guide had the most obnoxious laugh. Camille and I like to play a game called "The Most Obnoxious Laugh" where we try to top each other with fake laughs. It's hysterical fun. Seriously, try it, you'll be in a fit within 30 seconds. Our tour guide would win in a landslide.

Anyway, back to the tour. We walked the halls and saw all sorts of cool memorabilia - including some World Series trophies.

There's me in the dug out. Yep, the one where the players hang out.

This picture makes me think of the first time I was at Dodger Stadium. It was a day game and I was 7 or 8 and all I can remember from it is green grass and blue skies and sunshine and palm trees. Heaven.

We also sat in the fancy club seats where Tommy Lasorda sits (also Frank McCourt. Had I been chewing on gum I would have left it on his seat.) And walked along the warning track. We couldn't walk on the grass (no worries, I've done it before) but we could take all the pictures we wanted.

Here's a fun one.

It's me sitting at your organ! Dream come true! When we started the tour I just wanted to do two things - go to the dug out and sit at your organ. Check and check! I didn't know we couldn't sit on the bench nor did I know we couldn't touch the organ, both of which I did. I hope you don't mind. I was very respectful. I'm showing you this picture because I want to let you know I'm gunning for your job. My qualifications are: 10+ years as an organist at church and my unwavering love of baseball and the Dodgers. Also, I can knit, which I was told you do to pass the time when you're not playing. So, work as long as you want. Retire when you're 80. But just know that when you're out, I'm in.

With love from a fellow organist,

Rachel

P.S. I've always wanted your job but finding out that one of the perks is all you can eat nachos and Dodger Dogs makes me wish you would retire tomorrow.

Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime When All the World is Green

2011-09-02T22:46:00.000-07:00

If you know anything about my dear friend Valerie it is that she loves summer. Like, love-loves it. When you read her blog (and you should) you will find yourself saying, "You know, summer isn't really the sweat inducing season of Satan's Fiery Breath that I've always thought it was. It's quite nice. Let's go have a popsicle." She wrote an ode to summer recently that made me nostalgic for it - even though it was 95 degrees today, and we still have a good two months worth of warm weather ahead of us round these parts.

This summer has been lovely. Despite some rather annoying business (which I didn't write about because, well, I just didn't. I was busy eating Otter Pops.) It has been filled with adventure and shaved ice. A lot of shaved ice. Just tonight I went in and got a free shaved ice because I filled up a punch card. Not my first punch card. Probably my 4th. I'm not ashamed of my love for shaved ice, people.

In my nostalgia I have compiled a list of Glorious Summertime Moments in no particular order because they were all supreme:

1.) Filling my first punch card at the shaved ice place (OKAY! So I'm addicted. If you come and visit me I'll take you there and then you can stop being so judgy.)

2.) Walking through Union Station with my luggage about to board a train.

3.) That first night of beach camping, after our tents were set up and we strolled down to the beach. Suddenly it was like every summer of my youth.

4.) Getting on the jumbo-tron for the second time that night at the Dodger game.

5.) The point during my birthday party when I looked around and said, "I have really lovely friends," and several people said, "I know."

6.) The architecture river cruise where it was 10 degrees cooler than the rest of Chicago (Fact: It was named the Windy City because in the summer it actually is Satan's Fiery Breath blowing down on you.)

7.) Watching my nephews eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the beach

8.) Les Miserables with my sisters, all dolled up and sitting in the box seats (as the Queen does), eating contraband peanut M&Ms.

9.) My cactus blooming not once but three times.

10.) West Side Story under the stars at the Hollywood Bowl

11.) The dance party at girls camp

12.) Singing "Living on a Prayer" at the Music Center sing-along

Oh, it's been good.

What was your favorite part of the summer?

Something different

2011-08-29T23:05:00.000-07:00

At church yesterday six people asked what I had done differently to my hair. The answer is nothing. I did the same thing to my hair that I do every Sunday which is blow it dry, flat iron a few strands of tumbelweediness and beat my cowlicks into submission. I asked Katie if my hair looked any different and she said no so my only guess is that 1.) I plucked my eyebrows after a tragically long time and it must have radically changed my face and people just assumed it was my hair that was different, or 2.) The rather thick new gray hair sprouting out of the top of my head. Both seem very plausible.

Because the World's Largest Felt Collection is about to eat my apartment.

2011-08-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

It's 100 degrees outside and what am I thinking of? Christmas. Why? Because I miss eggnog. And also because Camille recently reminded me of how harried I was last December, up to my eyeballs in felt, and felt, and more felt. Oh, the felt. And she suggested that I send out the word now that if you're interested in a Custom Made Felt Thingy I'm taking orders.

In the past I've done laptop covers:

stockings (Note, I also do regular old stockings with Christmas trees and carolers, if that's what you're looking for.)

pillow cases

book marks

and dinosaur cake toppers, which, I suppose could be used as stuffed animals for small children if you don't have a cake to put them on

Basically, just let me know what you want (rachelknecht at gmail dot com) and I'll get back to you on the details and prices and then dive into the World's Largest Felt Collection and make it happen. Because I love you and want you to be happy. And because I don't want to be stitching felt until my fingers bleed on Christmas Eve.

Ho ho ho!

"She delivered a fatal karate chop..."

2011-08-22T23:36:00.000-07:00

Best line from the Best Obituary Ever:

As her involvement in the war deepened, Ms. Wake was trained by the British to kill with her bare hands (she delivered a fatal karate chop to a sentry at an arms factory), parachute into enemy-held territory and work a machine gun.

A fatal karate chop?! I didn't know those existed outside of Star Trek! Also - I did not know that was a skill I could learn. Do you think I could pop in at the dojo and ask my sensei if he teaches that in his Karate for Everyone class? Because even though I would never use it, I would love to be able to say, "Yeah, my karate chop is pretty lethal," and mean it.

And for another thing, what do you think she was wearing when she killed that sentry? I'm thinking a leather trench. With her collar popped. And cherry red lipstick. And a beret. And a silk scarf she was given by a duke who was madly in love with her. She sounds like the type of gal who would not overlook these details.

***

In other news - did you see the cute sidebar title thingies? Angela strikes again. Much like the lady spy, I like to imagine her also wearing a leather trench, beret, scarf and red lippy while issuing a fatal karate chop of style and glam to this blog.

Hold On for One More Day

2011-08-20T01:07:00.000-07:00

Were you afraid that I didn't get a Slurpee on my birthday? Rest assured, I did.

Hawaiian Punch and Pina Colada. Delish.

All day long friends were letting me know via text or Facebook that they got one. Stephanie even wrote about it on her blog. And way down in New Zealand Angela made the most of her winter surroundings and put red food coloring (or should I say colouring) on some snow and played along. I kept thinking of you all happily slurping away and it ended up being the best present. So thanks. I hope it made you as happy as it made me.

And now on to some other news, like how I met Michelle Phillips from the Mamas and the Papas.

The back story: Years ago, well, maybe 7 or 8, a group of us used to throw hootenannies. Not with guitars and folk tunes, but with the piano and show tunes and classics from the early 90s. We'd all pull out some song books and gather round the piano for hours of belting. Our favorites were Wilson Phillips songs*. We would get the thumb mics out and do the harmonies and cheer for ourselves when we finished - usually with jazz hands. So naturally when we heard that Wilson Phillips was coming to town we had to get tickets. Not that I'm particularly a fan, I don't think I owned any of their albums, but I have such great associations with those songs because of our hoots that I knew it would be a blast.

And it was. I couldn't stop giggling the entire first half. It helped that it felt like they were throwing their own hootenanny. They were flubbing the set list and roaming all over the stage and telling stories about growing up with rock legend parents. And then Carnie Wilson listed off all the over the counter drugs she had on her music stand - specifically Gas X because she gets a little bloated when she sings. The whole thing felt like it should have been at the fair grounds or San Manuel Indian Casino. But they still sounded pretty decent after all these years.

At the opening of the second set they did a whole section of The Mamas and the Papas and Beach Boy covers and they brought up Michelle Phillips, who was in the audience. Which is how I recognized her in the lobby as we were leaving. And I said out loud, "I should get a picture with her. But no..." Because it is my rule to not disturb celebrities. I've lived here my whole life so I've accumulated my fair share of celebrity sightings (just last week Stacy and I were 96% sure we saw Jay Mohr jogging at the Santa Monica beach). And I've never once approached one for an autograph or picture. Because I feel sheepish. And weird. And socially awkward. But Camille heard me saying it and then she said, "You have to," and I said, "No, I'm fine." And then she said, "Think about the blog," and that sold me. Plus, you know my love for old musicians (ie, Wayne Newton) So I asked and she was gracious and blew me a kiss as I was walking away. I refrained from singing California Dreamin' to her with the choreography I had to do when we sang it in my junior high choir. That's a victory for Team Not Looking Like a Doofus.

*We were also really great at Martika's Toy Soldiers and Madonna's This Used to Be My Playground

Get Yourself a Slurpee Day

2011-08-16T00:44:00.000-07:00

Guess what. It's my birthday on Wednesday. You all know how much I love my birthday. Because cake and presents and friends are usually involved - three things I love dearly.

So, as a birthday present to myself - because I love giving things away - I decided to choose not one but THREE winners from last weeks giveaway. Three of you get bookmarks!!! This is so thrilling.

The following names were pulled out of the sombrero (which I got from Chevy's on a birthday many moons ago. And now I want chips and salsa. Any takers for chips and salsa on my birthday? And tacos? Because if you're going to have chips and salsa you may as well follow it up with tacos.) Right. Names: Erin, Liz Loyle, and Heidi. You win, you win, you win!

Fun facts about the winners: There are no 7-Elevens in Erin's neck of the woods. Which is un-American if you ask me. Loyle wears a Mickey Mouse watch, and Heidi puked up cherry Slurpee all over the hospital floor whilst in labor.

So, Lucky Winners, email me what you would like on your bookmark at rachelknecht@gmail.com. I'm game for anything.

Now, onto a really important observation about your answers. All of you were pretty consistent. Most of you don't wear watches, you all have nicknames, you stay clear of flying/slithering/creeping things, and you think my mom is adorable. But you were also consistent with a variation on this answer: "It's been ages since I've had a Slurpee but..."

I find this to be unacceptable. Some of you, like Erin, who live in some alternate and tragic universe without 7-Elevens, have a valid excuse. But nearly all of you live in the Promised Land of Conveniently Located and Cheap Slushy Beverages. I don't get it. Do you not like Slurpees? Do you also not like unicorns and puppies?

So, I'm going to make a Royal Decree here (because my other nickname is Queen o' the Universe) and say that August 17th, my birthday, will hereby be known as Get Yourself a Slurpee Day. And if you'd like to give me a present, get a Slurpee (or some other slushy beverage if you don't have a Sev nearby) and take a picture with it and send that picture to me.

Go on and treat yourself. You deserve it.

Because I'm curious and have spare time

2011-08-09T23:50:00.000-07:00

Announcement, I'm back to making funny things out of felt and to jump start it I'm having a give away. If you answer any of the following questions you will be entered into a drawing to receive an original felt bookmark of your choice. You want want Yoda? You can have Yoda. Mr. T? Sure. Wayne Newton? Elvis? The cast of Three's Company? It's entirely up to you.

On to the questions:

1.) Did you get your free Slurpee on 7/11? Because I did. Look how happy we are together. MFEO. Also, what is going on with my bangs? Particularly that wonky part on the left. Dumb cowlick.

Question: What is your favorite Slurpee flavor?

2.) I'm back to the ring watch. Why did I ever leave? Seeing my fingernails that long is giving me anxiety.

Question: Do you wear a watch?

3.) Katie came home from shopping and presented me with this lemonade. This will mean nothing to you unless you know that my dad's nickname for me is Hubert. It is a mystery how he came to call me that - even to him - but I've been Hubert my whole life. It makes no sense. But the lemonade was tasty.

Questions: What is your nickname?

4.) Hey, what's that black thing on the wall of my parking garage?

Oh, just a moth the size of a postcard. And not one of those cheapo 5 for a dollar postcards but a fancy large glossy one that you can find at the gift shop in the Museum of Things that Scare the Holy Cats Out of Rachel

When I got close enough to take a picture it struck me that at any moment that moth could fly at my face, pick me up by my wonky bangs and carry me across the street to WalMart, you know, to complete my personal nightmare. I felt incredibly brave.

Questions: What flying and/or creeping thing would you not get close to even to take a picture for your blog?

5.) I took this of me and my mom in Union Station while waiting to board the train to Chicago

Question: Isn't my mom the cutest? (Hint, there is only one answer to this.)

Anne of Green Gables my eye!

2011-08-08T21:29:00.000-07:00

Folks, something very bad has happened - someone has created another Anne of Green Gables movie and it is an atrocity, a sham, an affront to all Anne Loving People everywhere. I came across it this afternoon and only watched 15 minutes of it before throwing down the remote control and harrumphing about my living room, ranting about how it is an atrocity, a sham, etc. Here's what I gathered from those 15 minutes:

1.) Anne is middle aged and WWII is going on (when everyone knows that it's WWI that is happening when Anne is middle aged.)

2.) Anne is searching for her father (Who, you may recall from the books, is actually dead.)

3.) And surprise! she has a half brother whom she is also searching for.

4.) She has a son named Dominic. What?! What about Jem, or Shirley, or (Sweet Land of Liberty, I'm going to start weeping) Walter?

5.) She is living at Green Gables again.

And, this is the most egregious so hold on to your hats...

6.) Gilbert is dead and Anne is dating some other guy. AS IF! And also, NO! And for another thing, HOGWASH! I started watching during a scene where Anne comes home and takes the arm of this guy and I thought, "Gee, they could have cast a more handsome Gil." And then she called him Gene. She's dating a guy named Gene!? Is this some kind of joke? Do they really believe that the people will stand for a.) Gilbert being killed off and b.) Anne walking arm in arm with a guy who isn't Gilbert? Unacceptable.

Okay, so I'm a little passionate about Anne of Green Gables. That series of books (and really, all of LM Montgomery's books) were a huge part of my formative years. And the stories that she wrote of Anne were great. Mostly because Gilbert doesn't die! They grow old together and have kids (none of them named Dominic) and they live happily ever after, just as we all knew they would. Killing him off and giving Anne a long lost father and brother and made up son is just preposterous.

I object!

The Life of Elegant Leisure - Hobo Edition

2011-08-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

Here is the joy of beach camping, besides smores: you can look and act like a hobo without any major repercussions, namely, people thinking you look like a hobo and calling the police on you for loitering. In fact, if you don't look like a hobo you're commitment to the endeavour is instantly questioned. What is she trying to prove, putting on mascara? Camile and I went camping up at Carpinteria for a few days and we would putter around the camp grounds in our pajamas, squinty eye and hair akimbo, until the morning clouds went away and then we'd head out to the beach for a few hours of sitting and reading gossip mags. Then we'd stroll into town for lunch, covered in sun screen and hair still a mess in sandy flip flops and cover-ups, stop in at Vons for some ice and then back to the beach for more sitting. Which is basically how vagrants spend their days. Looking and acting like that at any other time or place would surely get you a couple of tragic looks, and possibly a couple of hand outs. But everyone around you is beach camping, and everyone around you looks exactly as you do. Everyone smells like sun screen and camp fire and dirt. No one has done their hair in days. Everyone slept in tents and spent their days being buried in the sand. We all look like hobos! And we all look pretty happy about it.

A metal coil thingy

2011-08-01T23:05:00.000-07:00

Conversation I had with a Target employee:

Me: Could you please tell me where I can find a Slinky.

Target Employee: A what?

Me: A Slinky

TE: What is that?

Me: ??

TE: ??

Me: It's a metal coil thingy that you play with. (Then I proceed to do the hand motions you make whilst playing with a Slinky. You know what I'm talking about.) You can throw it down stairs! It slinks!

TE: I still don't know what you're talking about. You'll have to ask someone else.

Ruby at the Ballgame

2011-07-31T22:20:00.000-07:00

You're aware of the cautionary tale of Ruby St. Germaine, former headliner of my car now occupying the cup holder and battling a heroin addiction.

To lift Ruby's spirits we took her to the Dodger game last week.

(Side note: do you see that man standing to the right of Ruby? Wearing the hat and facing away from the field? That's Sid, our number one usher and official Oldest Man Alive. We sit in those seats a few times a year and Sid is always there, answering questions and posing for pictures with girls in really short shorts. Work it, Sid!)

Ruby had a great time at the game, cheering on the Dodgers and eating some peanuts

Now, we're all used to Ruby and her tragic appearance but the guys sitting next to us thought she was a little creepy and that we brought her there for a little dark magic.

Is Ruby casting a spell on the Rockie's or just doing spirit fingers?

She'll never tell. But we won.

(Second side note: the guy sitting next to me was very nice and promised to dive in front of us should a foul ball come screaming at my head, as they are wont to do in those seats, which is all I ask of a neighbor at a baseball game, even if he was on his 5th beer and was a bit of a leaner.)

Oh, these are my casual glasses

2011-07-28T21:39:00.000-07:00

While flipping through a magazine I came across an article on how to do a mini makeover just by changing some things about your eyes like plucking your eyebrows or going bold with your shadow. One of the makeover candidates had a pair of eyeglasses that the good people of the magazine thought were "too casual". Too casual? Is this a thing? I did not realize that glasses have a level of casualness. Are some styles the equivalent of cutoff shorts and flip flops? What makes glasses fancy? Rhinestones? If there are no cutoffs or rhinestones how are we suppose to know if the glasses are appropriate for the opera? I would not be so interested in this if the gal's glasses did not look exactly like mine. But they did!

I've been walking around wearing laundry-day glasses.

Chicago, Chicago. That toddlin town.

2011-07-26T23:36:00.000-07:00

On to Chicago.

Hog Butcher for the World,

Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;

Stormy, husky, brawling,

City of the Big Shoulders:

I've always loved that poem. I read it years and years ago, when I was just a kid, and ever since I always want to shout out HOG BUTCHER TO THE WORLD! whenever someone mentions the place. Although that also makes me think of The Jungle and then I have to curl up in a dark corner and think of vegetables and green fields.

We got off the train on Monday afternoon and spent three days wandering around and having a great time.

To the List!

1.) The heat. What Carl Sandburg neglected to leave out of that poem was that Chicago is also Satan’s Sauna. It is the steam room in the Fiery Pits of Hell. I did not know that such oppressive heat even existed - and I've been to Phoenix in July. I’ve heard this phrase all the time - It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. I’m going to needle point that on to a pillow because never have truer words been spoken. I can honestly say that I have never sweat so profusely and so constantly as I did in Chicago. I live in a place that has temperate weather 300 days out of the year and I am a delicate flower who wilts in that kind of heat. I looked like this all week:

Droopy. Only my dignity stood in the way of going without clothes. In fact, when one of the museum attendants heard we were going to the Cubs game she said, “Girl, you better go naked.” I will also be needle pointing that. We were told that this was freakish weather. But I’m here to say that if that kind of weather is even a possibility and they are known for their miserable winters as well, that just means people who live there are dummies.

2.) But also very helpful and friendly dummies. People were offering to help us with direction every few yards. It’s that Midwestern charm you hear about.

3.) The heat created a weird steamy fog over Lake Michigan that was so thick I didn’t actually get a good look at the thing until our 3rd day there. I was skeptical that it even existed. Here's my view of the "lake" from the Ferris wheel

We took an architecture boat cruise up the river, starting in the steamy fog and doubting that we would be able to see anything, but when we got through the lock the sun was out and we got to see all sorts of cool buildings and wave to people on the bridges above. You know how much I love to wave at people from boats and trains. It makes me feel like I'm in a parade.

4.) Did you know the first Ferris wheel was created in Chicago? And that it held 2400 people? And it took an hour to make a full rotation? I did know, so I was excited to ride the one they have at Navy Pier, even if the visibility was no farther than your toes.

5.) On the hottest day there we went to Wrigley Field and watched the Cubs get shamed by the Phillies.

Oh, it was a miserable game for them. But it was awesome to be inside such a cool ball park. They have a manual scoreboard and all that ivy on the wall. We ate peanuts and cheered for the Cubs and stayed for the entire game, which is rare for Dodger fans.

5.) Maybe I’ll be stoned for saying this but I wasn’t all that impressed with the deep dish pizza. I mean, it was delicious, but I don’t think it lived up to the hype. Give me a normal depth pizza anytime.

6.) The popcorn though. They sell this stuff called Garrett’s popcorn and I plan on stuffing my coffin with it when I die.

7.) I viewed this trip almost entirely through Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Who wouldn’t? So when I was in the Chicago Institute of Art I have a very Cameron moment in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte. And I said “heybattabattabattabattabatta sa-WING batta” multiple times at the Cubs game and when we went to a fancy restaurant I wanted to say we were with Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago.

8.) That restaurant, Gibson's, served me the Greatest Steak I've Ever Eaten. Period.

9.) Heather did a lot of brave things on this trip. She sat through an entire baseball game, she walked across questionable bridges, she spent a week with three Knechts. But the bravest thing she did was walk into the Plexiglass box on the 103rd floor of the Sears Tower

She refused to look down. I don't blame her because when I looked down I thought "Well, at least I got to eat Garrett's Popcorn before I plummet to my death." I am not afraid of heights and I wasn't nervous to walk out but once I was out there I was wishing I had a parachute or at least some common sense to not do crazy things.

10.) More pictures, because I love you.

Cloud Gate

In about 5 minutes that kid on the fountain will spit water out of his mouth. The frolicking that went on there was adorable.

This is the Carbonite and Carbon building. In a city full of great buildings this one was my favorite.

There was a lovely stained glass museum at Navy Pier. It was free and air conditioned which made it a winner.

The lake finally confirmed it's existence.

To sum up: Chicago is great. And I'd love to return...when it's not trying to sizzle me like bacon.

All Aboard!

2011-07-23T11:24:00.000-07:00

While in Chicago we would tell people we took the train out from LA. At first no one believed us. And then once they were finally convinced, they didn't believe it was worth it. So let me tell you: IT'S WORTH IT. People, listen to your friend - train travel is for winners. I haven't had such a fun time getting from one place to another - ever. I don't ever want to fly again. Mostly because it made me realize that the airline industry hates us. They hate us and want us to suffer. The train industry, on the other hand, loves us and wants to give us cozy beds and newspapers every morning and glorious views of America. It took two full days to get from LA to Chicago and it felt like nothing. It took us 4 hours to fly from Chicago to LA and it felt like 2 days. And the train doesn't make you take off your shoes and walk through a metal detector, and you can get out of your roomy and comfortable seat and walk around as much as you want. You can spread out and play games and every couple of hours there are stops in exotic places like Albuquerque, NM and Kansas City, MO where you can get out and take in the fresh air and by turquoise jewelry made my Navajo women. It is a glorious way to travel.

Some highlights:

Union Station. Love.

1.) Union Station is one of my favorite places in Los Angeles. It is grand. I've been going through there for years because if you take the train into the city you end up there and also, it is the Gateway to Cielito Lindo's - Home of the Greatest Taquitos in the World. Naturally, I've been a lot. Every time I've gone through Union Station I've been a little jealous of the people with luggage because it means they're actually traveling somewhere. So it was kind of a dream come true to walk through there with my suitcase and board a train.

All Aboard!

Katie and Dad, consulting the map.

We are giddy with excitement in our wee roomette.

2.) When you take your train trip be sure you book a sleeper, for a couple of reasons. 1.) Hello, bed. Maybe you're one of those magical people who can sleep sitting up, I am not. The first night was a bit rough because I wasn't used to all the jostling, but the second night was much better. 2.) Hello, 1st class. Booking a sleeper automatically puts you in first class which means your meals are included and you get a newspaper every morning and a bonus golf cart ride to your platform, like the royals get. 3.) Goodbye coach. I walked through that coach class. It was like a war zone in there. It was dark and there was trash and baggage scattered all over the place. The seats didn't look all that bad, they reclined pretty well and had a footrest, so if you're only going a short distance, go for it. But it reminded me of that Seinfeld episode where Jerry says that once you've been in first class you can't go back. He's right.

The chairs in our room folded down to make a bed and a bunk folds down from the top to make the other. I look so cozy.

3.) It is the Way of The Knecht to make friends with everyone. Before the train even pulled out of the station we were best friends with our porter, Riley, and our conductor, A. Findley. We later because tight with the dining car guys as well, Mel, Robert and Jerry. They were so nice and friendly and would joke around with us and basically made the trip awesome.

A. Findley! Our first and favorite conductor.

4.) In order to appreciate train travel you have to like leisure time. I do. I love to sit and read a book, or play games, or watch corn fields go by, all things we did for long periods of time. People have asked, "So there's no tv on the train?" There isn't. If you're going to travel by train you have to make your own fun, of which I am a big proponent.

5.) At Raton, NM we picked up a feral pack of Boy Scouts. The mega scout camp Filmont is near by and these scouts had spent a week or two out there and were heading home to New York. So you can imagine the state they were in. There was a distinct rancid teenage muskiness to them which anyone would recognize as a combination of Doritos, crusty socks, old hot dogs, and farts. Multiply that scent by 30 and you can now imagine what the lounge car smelled like the last day of the trip. Reason number a billion why you should get a sleeper: scouts sleep in coach.

Feral Scouts boarding the train.

6.) We crossed several rivers. The most impressive: the Mighty Mississippi

And the Majestic Los Angeles River

7.) We passed through Grants, NM: Birthplace of Katie, where I lived from the ages of 1 to 3. I have only glimpses of memories from it and this was the first time I've seen it since. I think it's strangely beautiful and very wild west-y. I happened to be reading a Louis L'Amour book through here. Kind of perfect.

8.) Do you know what they grow in Missouri, Iowa and Illinois? Corn

And soy beans

This is what we saw for miles and miles and miles. This was my first time traveling through the Midwest and I was mesmerized by it.

While waiting to board the train we overheard a man in line with us say that he came out to LA on the train and it was the most horrendous experience of his life and that his return trip was going to be his last. To that I say, great, more room for me. Because train travel is the greatest.

Up next: how I had a great time in Chicago despite the fact that it was trying to melt me down like an ice cube in a broiler.

Movies to cry along to.

2011-07-15T23:53:00.000-07:00

I went to see Harry Potter 7.2 tonight and to say that I cried a lot of tears is to say that Niagara Falls drops a lot of water. It was a wet-land preserve in that theater. Algae started to form in the pools around my feet. A loon swooped down and snagged a fish. Some guy was offering air-boat tours. You get the picture. There was a point in it when I was nearly in convulsions attempting to contain the sobbing and howling and renting of clothes. At the end of it Lindsay, Katie and I all agreed that we can't remember a time of such sustained crying.

What I'm saying is: I loved every bit of the movie and can't wait to put myself through all of that again.

After we had taken several very deep breaths and began the discussion part of the evening we tried to think of where this would fall in the Pantheon of Movies That Make Us Weep. For me it is pretty high up there. Most movies just contain a scene or two: when Shelby dies in Steel Magnolias, when Matthew dies in Anne of Green Gables, the attic scene in Shadowlands, the end of Million Dollar Baby. But I could basically add the entire last hour of this movie to the list. Naturally my sentiment for the entire series and my inclination to cry at everything makes me more weepy than the average girl but I was not exaggerating about those convulsions. (It was Snape, by the way. Sweet Land of Liberty! That part did me in.) Incidentally, we were shocked at the lack of sniffling we heard. Were we the only ones losing it? Can people really make it through this film and not shed a single tear?

Questions: Do you cry at movies or do you not have a soul? And also, what movie would you add to the list. Do not say Twilight.

Oh right, Chicago.

2011-07-13T22:55:00.000-07:00

Here's what I keep forgetting: that I'm boarding a train on Saturday afternoon bound for Chicago. How totally exotic and old-timey, right? (Except that, should you see the room we're in (or roomette, as they call it) the word exotic may not apply) It's kind of a dream come true, to travel across the country by train. Mostly because to me, long distance train travel involves large hats, Cary Grant, and intrigue. All things I love. I don't want to go as far as to say that if I don't get to solve a murder I'm going to be a little disappointed, but, well, I'm going to be a little disappointed. And I've never been to Chicago so I'm pretty excited for the whole experience - Cubs game, museums, architecture boat cruise, pizza - we're doing it all.

But I keep forgetting about it because of one thing - Harry Potter. I have my ticket for Friday night (no midnight showing for this 80 year old) and I spend my days reading articles and watching clips and basically being a total Potter Dweeb. AND I AM NOT ASHAMED! Today, for proof, I read something that reminded me of a part in the book that destroyed me (Snape...you know) but conveniently blocked out, because I am emotionally stunted,and when what happens came back to me I started to lose it and I had to promise myself a shaved ice to cheer myself up. (Aside: this is quickly turning into the Summer of My Shaved Ice Addiction.) I have not come to terms with the sad fact that by 11 pm on Friday the whole thing will be done. There will no doubt be some sighing on the long train ride to Chicago. Were I a character in an Poirot mystery I would be described as the melancholy girl with the remnants of a lightening bolt painted on her forehead.

Even baby chimps know how to crack their own peanuts.

2011-07-10T21:48:00.000-07:00

Much like the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, I had a very Southern California Weekend (incidentally, I was at the gym when the news cut in with their landing at LAX and I wanted to shout, "Welcome to my home, you Adorable Royal Couple! Stop on over for some cookies!")

I went to the Dodger game on Friday night (we won!) and the beach on Saturday morning (no sun burn!) and the Hollywood Bowl on Saturday night where we watched Westside Story (probably my second favorite musical - after Sound of Music, natch) with the LA Phil playing the score live, in sync with the film. And if you're wondering - IT WAS AMAZING.

But back to the Dodger Game. We got free fancy seats (thanks, Uncle Rob!) and there was a couple sitting in front of us with their son and his friend, both about 6. Katie and I sat in total wonder as the mom spent the entire 4 innings that they were there doing everything for those two boys, such as breaking their hot dogs into smaller pieces, telling them when something good happened and making them clap, and cracking the peanuts out of their shells and handing them to the boys. When she wasn't wiping ketchup off their faces or fixing their hair she was taking pictures of them. The kids didn't seem to mind having their baseball experience micromanaged like that and the mom seemed like it wasn't a hassle to her. EXCEPT: (Cranky Spinster Woman Disclaimer: I don't have kids. What do I know about anything.) isn't one of the joys of childhood learning how to crack a peanut? And can't a kid just sit with his friend and laugh at silly 6 year old things without constantly being told to clap or smile or eat this bite-sized piece of hot dog? I felt bad for the kids. But I also felt bad for the mom because 20 years from now her son is going to be calling her up from the Dodger game asking why she didn't pack shelled peanuts in his lunch?

Nothing says freedom like ice cream and hats

2011-07-05T20:55:00.000-07:00

My Fourth of July weekend was everything it should be. Complete with:

A movie

Eating out a lot

A very serious conversation over Bert & Rocky's ice cream with Amanda, visiting from the Frozen North, about the importance of ice cream placement in your cup/cone - your favorite goes on the bottom - and how shocked we are that people don't grasp this. Also, our shock over people liking vanilla ice cream. They always follow up this admission by saying, "But you can add things to it." And to that we say anything that needs to be added to is AUTOMATICALLY INFERIOR!!!! Clearly we are passionate about this. (Sorry for the rant. Vanilla makes me cranky.)

Sleeping in, brunch, swimming, lounging, BBQ, homemade ice cream, fireworks

Trick photography

It also included a frenzy of hat making. My friend is throwing a bridal shower tea party and she saw the hats I made for the Royal Wedding and asked if I'd make some for it. As it is officially my new dream to live in London and make hats for the Queen I decided it would be good practice. So I took the gig.

Here, let me model them for you:

The white one, with its explosion of feather's shooting out, makes me feel patriotic. But I promise to not rib the Queen about losing to us all those years ago when I am the Royal Milliner.

A Cautionary Tale

2011-06-30T23:14:00.000-07:00

If you've been in my car you have probably met Ruby St. Germaine - Former lounge singer and fallen woman. She's a little doll who used to sit on my dash board, underneath the wee disco ball that hangs from my rear view mirror but through a series of tragic events she has ended up in my cup holder - bitter and burned out. A cautionary tale of the seedier side of show business.

Life in the cup holder has not been good to her. Her hair is mussed, her dress is fraying, she has lost her microphone (although has still held on to her jewelry). And her face looks like she's had more than one hot chocolate spill on her. She's a tough cookie, but today I saw how bad things have gotten. This morning I ate my breakfast in the car on my way to work and I left my spoon in the cup holder with Ruby. This is what I found when I got back in:

Rudy is holding the spoon which has some sort of white substance on it. This can only mean one thing: heroin.

Ruby, nooooooooooo!!!!!! You have so much to live for! Looks like someone is going to rehab.

2011-06-28T20:42:00.000-07:00

One of the many perks of working for a podiatrist is when you walk in limping he can ask, "Is something wrong with your foot," and you can reply, "I don't know. You tell me." And he can! And more so, he can do something about it. Which is how I found myself today getting an injection of some legal controlled substance into the soft tissue between a couple of toes.

If you haven't had this done I'm going to give you my thought process so you can be prepared.

Hmm, not bad. Just a little pinch, like he said. Maybe a little more painful than giving blood. Okay, now he's wiggling it around. Still manageable. There's a bit of a burning sensation, he must be injecting it. Gosh, I'm grateful I got that pedicure last week. But now I'm wishing I got the callus remover, even though we all know it's a scam. How can he handle touching feet all day? Because all those 90 years olds are not getting pedicures, that's for sure. This is taking longer than I expected. But it's not asSWEETLANDOFLIBERTYKNIGHTSFOCOLUMBUSFORTHELOVEOFALLTHATISGOODANDHOLYOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've been hobbling all day, just like all those 90 year olds, and the pain is significantly worse than the pain the injection was supposed to help but I've been promised that in a few days I'll be as good as new - able to return to my carefree, frolicking ways.

Dinorific!

2011-06-26T23:18:00.000-07:00

My dear friend and personal patron, Hannah, got married and moved to Washington. Boo - I mean to the WA part. Married - hooray! And I couldn't make it to her wedding because it was during girls camp. Double Boo! And to prove what an extreme sacrifice it was to not be there I will just tell you they had live band karaoke AND a taco truck. To say that I was heart broken about missing it is an understatement. Not only because of the tacos but mostly because Hannah has been one of those friends who just lightens up your life. We bonded over our shared love of The Blue Castle (you've read it, right? RIGHT?!) and it has been nothing but unicorns and felt stockings every since.

So when she asked if I would make her cake topper I had to say yes.

Some background: 1.) Hannah has been a firm and faithful believer in the funny things I make out of felt. 2.) She and her husband wear glasses. 3.) He likes dinosaurs. A lot.

This is what she requested and I was thrilled to do it (let's not talk about the crappy nature of these photos):

Love you Medici! Remember that felt is cheap to ship.

The New Me

2011-06-24T21:31:00.000-07:00

If you're reading this on a reader head on over to the actual blog and have a look at the makeover. HURRY, HURRY, HURRY!!! Because it's awesome!

Some time last fall I asked Angela, my dear (internet) friend from way, way, way down south, if she'd be interested in making my blog a header. She was. But she needed a picture of me and as those are hard to come by she patiently waited. And waited. And waited. Until lo, a few appeared. And within a day the magic was done. Plus a button, if your so inclined (see sidebar). And I love it. Well, Tyra is there. How could I not love it?

Thanks Angela!!! You are kind and good. The next time I'm in New Zealand I'll give you a hug.

The advent of summer

2011-06-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

1. Happy Summer!!!!!!! I love the beginning of summer above all other seasonal beginnings because it feels so open and full of potential. It's a bit of wild card season. You know in the fall there will be school and in the winter will be Christmas and in the spring you'll have allergies. But summer is so full of surprises and possibilities. It is when your friends are most likely to call you up out of the blue and say, "Hey, I'm heading down to the beach to ride bikes. Wanna come?" I celebrated the advent of summer with a little shaved ice and am now ready for adventure.

2. Does the rest of the world have Funeral Potatoes, or is it just the Mormons? This afternoon I was helping out at a dinner after a funeral for a man who was a Mormon, long, long ago, but his family was not and we had, naturally, 3 pans of Funeral Potatoes (a casserole made of cream of something soup, sour cream, cheese and potatoes) and none of the mourners had ever seen them before. I suppose it could be called other things, but Funeral Potatoes are what it's called around these parts because, well, we bring it to funerals. It's easy to make, it feeds a lot of people, and it is the epitome of comfort food. At the end of it all I was chatting with the man's daughter, who was marveling at the amount of food we brought, and I had to explain that Mormons only know how to feed very large groups of people. I believe it's our pioneer spirit that warns us that the crickets could come and eat all our crops and we'll starve come winter and we'd better fatten each other up just in case.

3. After the funeral, I got to play the piano for one my primary kid's baptism. He comes from a very big family so I was expecting a crowd. What I was not expecting was that they'd all be early. I am notoriously late to things I have to be early to. I have nothing to blame but my optimistic sense of time. But tonight I arrived 15 minutes before it was about to start and I was super proud of myself - until I discovered that I was the very last person to arrive. I'm giving myself an A for effort.

4. I am thinking of becoming a super model. Behold.

Moth Attack!

2011-06-17T22:32:00.000-07:00

Girls Camp is over and I think we should all celebrate by taking naps. Long naps in our own beds with no moths trying nest in our hair.

Oh, those moths. One night I was the last one up, writing letters in the lounge across the hall from my bedroom and when I opened the door to walk the three steps to get to my room I found (and I know from time to time I am prone to exaggeration but THIS IS NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES!) thousands of moths. There was a wall of fluttering, spastic moths and it took me about 5 minutes to convince myself that I would be fine and to just be brave and step out into the hall and get to bed. But then I tried it and as soon as I got into the light THEY SWARMED AT MY HEAD!!!!!!!!!!! And I ran back in and decided that death-by-winged-insects was a horrible way to go. Fortunately there was another door and I slipped out that one and ran downstairs and turned on every single light in the entire lodge and found the can of bug spray and did battle with them for 20 minutes. The bug spray didn't kill them, by the way. It only made them kind of mellow. But mellow enough to where I could turn off the hall light and wait for them to leave the hall and I made it to my room where I whimpered myself to sleep.

Other highlights include: attempting to demonstrate canoe dancing to the girls I was paddling with, teaching the girls how to french braid, going from cabin to cabin each night and singing to the girls, hanging out with really great and funny women all week, 2 water balloon fights, a dance party, less crying than I expected, less drama than I expected (100 women and girls with bad showering facilities and too much sugar = drama), and nobody died. Success!

How hard can it be to accidentally be shot into space?

2011-06-12T22:34:00.000-07:00

1.) Remember how I told you that my niece was cuter than your niece? I meant it. She is Miss Eliza Jean the Beauty Queen.

2.) In other news: KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS, COULD PRIMARY HAVE BEEN ANY MORE OF A MAD HOUSE TODAY? To say that being both the Primary president and the stake girls camp director was kind of a big undertaking is like saying the Grand Canyon is kind of a big hole. But for the most part they have only converged slightly over the last 5 months and I've had a lot of help from very wonderful people and it's been manageable as well as miraculous. So it just figures that on the day before I leave for camp we are short eight people - EIGHT PEOPLE - in primary and the kids seemed to have OD'd on lunatic pills.

3.) In other, other news: I watched Space Camp the other night (jealous?) for the first time in years and found myself a little let down that I'm not an astronaut. It was my dream as a kid to go into space. The first time I watched that movie at a cousins' slumber part at my grandparent's house I vividly remember thinking, "Those kids are SO LUCKY to have been accidentally shot up into space." And I was desperate to go to space camp because, you never know, maybe I could be so lucky. Who wants to join me in my letter writing campaign to NASA to 1.) reinstate the space shuttle program (let's not talk about my heartbreak over that) and 2.) institute a new Writers of Humorous Anecdotes in Space program. Also, did you know that Joaquin Phoenix is in that movie? As a young lad? When he went by the name Leaf? Crazytown.

Aack!

2011-06-08T16:09:00.000-07:00

I have a lot on my plate right now. Girls Camp is next week, Primary needs some major attention and stuff has been happening at the Pod that make me want to hide in the super secret hidden room they have there with a pillow, a blanket, and a James Taylor CD. Plus, I've been going through it all while suffering a bout of the old PMS which means I have a very full plate with a side of tears and bloating.

Which is how I found myself in the grocery story this afternoon putting about 20 pounds of snack food and chocolate back on the shelves after it mysteriously appeared in my basket. It was as if my rational and composed self was abducted by aliens and was replaced by a Cathy cartoon.

My niece is cuter than your niece, and other important stuff

2011-06-06T23:11:00.000-07:00

My niece is cuter than your niece. It's true. She has a blonde mohawk and two dimples, people. It's not even a contest.

I spent the weekend basking in her cuteness, as well as the cuteness of the Blessed Nephews. And laughing with my brothers and sisters. And not thinking about Girls Camp, which is in a week. I have a very long list of big and small things that still need to be done for it but I'm trying to have some perspective. Like, it's not going to matter if certain things get done before I leave. I just finished chatting with my friend Amanda, who has her own major stresses right now, and I gave the advice to make a list and prioritize it and put "cleaning your house" at the bottom of it, because we'll all survive if the bathroom sink doesn't get the thorough scrubbing it probably needs. I'm warning you that I'm going to take my own advice on that one so if you come over to visit between now and next Saturday, there may be a few strands of hair lurking near the faucet. I know that you're a kind a generous friend who won't judge me for that.

More Pink

2011-06-02T22:53:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning (oh, so early) Camille and I leave for a weekend in Utah to meet the new niece, Miss Eliza Jean. Ever since finding out that a niece would be arriving I have purposely been avoiding the wee little clothing sections. Primarily to save my bank account. Because I've only had nephews and, let's face it, boys are boring to shop for, clothes-wise. It's nothing but stripes and teddy bears and fire trucks and sports themes. During the colder months you can buy sweater vests but other than that, it's a dud. But little girls have so many pink ruffly things and I knew that if I wandered into that territory I would buy every cute frilly item I saw. So I stayed away, until today, when I found myself in Target clutching pink rompers in both hands. Who's genius idea was it to put babies in rompers? I need to find out so I can shake their hand. I nearly died from the cuteness. Hooray for the Niece!

Pink

2011-05-31T18:24:00.000-07:00

Things that have gone pink that shouldn't be pink:

1.) My eye. Once again, I have some weird eye infection that has turned my entire right eye pink - and oozy. Bleh. I'm pretty sure it's not actual pink eye because it doesn't hurt or itch or feel like my eyelids are made of sand paper. But it does leak a whole lot. And I think it's all allergy related because it has always come when I'm having a particularly difficult time with them. But whatever the cause, it is disturbing and gross and I'd like for it to go away.

2.) My neck. Or rather, a ring around my neck. We had a glorious Memorial Day that involved more time in the sun than I had anticipated and I now have a lovely necklace of slightly burnt skin around the collar. But it was worth it. We played bocci and went to the batting cages and ate homemade ice cream - which, in my book, constitutes the perfect day.

Canoe Dancing? YES!

2011-05-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

The Lovely Liz shared this with me and I had to pass it on. Because it will change your life.

I will be up at camp in 2 weeks where there will be canoeing. Which means that in 2 weeks I will be embarking on my new career as a canoe dancer. I got my eye on you Marc Orstein.

Inconceivable!

2011-05-25T22:57:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before how we have a continual loop of documentaries on at the Pod and how we're getting a little tired of learning about trains and surfing and animals that eat other animals. So I brought in a few movies to change things up a bit. I walked in with a stack this morning and had the following conversation with some of the girls in the office:

Me: I brought in some new movies! Beauty and the Beast, Harry Potter, The Princess Bride...
L: What's that?
Me: The Princess Bride?
L: Yeah, I've never heard of it.
M: Me neither
S: Me neither
Me: (reeling, a bit) Is this a joke?
L: No. I only have sons so I don't watch a lot of girl movies.
S: Me too.
Me: This isn't just some girl movie. It's an 80s classic. It's like saying you've never heard of the Breakfast Club.
M: I've seen that.
Me: But you haven't seen the Princess Bride? Wesley? Buttercup? The Six-Fingered Man?
All of Them: No.

This seems, well, inconceivable to me (a reference, by the way, that no one in my office would get!) It's not like I go around quoting the Princess Bride all the time, but I always just assume that when I say, "Have fun storming the castle!" or, "Wove. Twue wove," or, "Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line," people are going to know what I'm talking about. And it's not like I can blame it on their youth because both L & S are roughly my age. Is the Princess Bride as obscure as they made it seem? Have I just been living in a bubble my whole life believing that everyone knows it? Please tell me I'm not the only one shocked by this.

The Queen's Handbag

2011-05-24T22:39:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons why I love the Queen. Like how she was a mechanic in the war, and how she's not all up in our faces about being the queen (like I would be, "What do you mean you're putting me on hold? I'm the QUEEEEEEEEN!!!") But probably my favorite thing about her is that she always has a sensible handbag with her. Think I'm joking? She took one to the state dinner tonight:

She also had one when they first met up. (Sidenote: Close call, Michelle. You totally almost flashed Prince Phillip!)

Please note that it's not a clutch or some other elegant or diminutive purse. It's an old lady handbag. The 80 year old in me can relate to this habit of hers. A clutch isn't going to hold everything you might need while you're out inspecting troops and christening naval vessels. I'm sure she has any number of ladies in waiting who can hold her lip balm for her, so I appreciate that she's sensible enough to know that a gals got to have immediate access to certain items.

Let's guess what's inside, shall we?

1.) A bag of safety pins

2.) The aforementioned lip balm

3.) Altoids

4.) An assortment of snacks, like Swedish Fish and those mini tubes of Pringles

5.) A hanky with her initials on it

6.) A picture of her corgis

7.) A cell phone that would only be used to call the Prime Minister to send the troops off to war

8.) An extra pair of hose

9.) A retractable sword, for impromptu knighting

10.) A dog-earred copy of Twilight

11.) A couple of the crown jewels, just because she can

Anymore guesses?

My New JWBFF

2011-05-21T23:03:00.000-07:00

How come I didn't think to have a So We Missed the Rapture -- Let's All Eat Ice Cream party? I have heard of several people throwing their own version and I feel like I've missed a golden opportunity. Next time some wackadoo predicts the end of the world you're all invited over to my house for snacks and dancing.

Speaking of the imminent destruction of the earth, I have a new Jehovah's Witness BFF named Jason who first came by a few months ago and dropped off some reading material and then came over today with an invitation to a big convention they're having next weekend - the theme of which is "Will the Earth Be Destroyed". When I saw the flier I said, "Well, not today, right?" And he gave me a puzzled look. Then he said, "Do you think the earth will be destroyed?" And I said, "Well, that answer would take a bit of time," and giving it another go added, "but fortunately we dodged a big bullet today and you folks can still hold your convention." I feel really lucky that I didn't try to high five him right then because as it was, he hadn't heard of the rapture prediction. And he wasn't exactly picking up on my sarcasm because he proceeded to show me a handful of scriptures about the earth not being destroyed. And then he showed me more scriptures about people not being able to predict the end of days and then he went for the hard sell on trying to get me to their convention by saying on Sunday there will be live costumed productions of Biblical stories. Pass. Although I am very curious about Jehovah's Witness services and I'm contemplating, if he ever stops by again, inviting myself along with him to church.

This day is a winner

2011-05-18T22:39:00.000-07:00

There has been a bit of an annoying problem at the Pod lately and it sort of made my morning a real stinker and my grumpy mood carried over into the afternoon which made it look like the day would be a bust.

Until...

1.) The girl I wanted to win on America's Next Top Model did,

and...

2.) I became the proud and doting aunt to a niece. WIN!

I'm going to start refering to people as Old Fart. You've been warned.

2011-05-17T23:14:00.000-07:00

The husband of a patient at the Pod was sitting in the lobby, waiting for her to finish up. He was wearing a VA hat, a t-shirt with a bald eagle on it, American flag suspenders and aviator sunglasses. He was making phone calls to pass the time. (And he was also - and this may gross you out - sucking the snot up in his nose like it was his job. Not just little sniffles but full-force suckage. You know what I'm talking about. For me, this is the most repulsive sound on the planet. I haaaaaaaate it. It makes me want to punch something, and then vomit, and then punch something else. The End.) These phone calls were of the "Hey, this is Big Fat Nose Sucker. Let's get together some time." variety. There wasn't anyone else in the lobby so it wasn't such a big deal. Once the lobby started to fill up he stopped. Until his phone rang and he said, in the loudest voice possible, "WELL HEY THERE YA OLD FART! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU!" And then proceeded to spend the next 10 minutes talking to one of his old war buddies about their time in Nam. The receptionist and I just sat in our chairs, hiding our faces and giggling the entire time. He more than filled my daily quota for the Ridiculous

Old Friends New Friends

2011-05-14T21:36:00.000-07:00

1.) Old Friend

Little Rachel (I tower over her by two whole inches!), my old college roommate and one of my all-time most beloved friends was in town fighting the crowds at Disneyland all week with her family. They took a break from the fun and met me at Downtown Disney for dinner. (Motto: we're not Disneyland but we're close and our food is just as expensive and mediocre.)

Fun Fact: (And there is a connection here) I rarely throw up. RARELY. Because I hate it. So much. In fact, I have only done it 3 times in the last 12 years. The first time was hours after I returned from Rac's wedding. The second was hours after enjoying a visit with Rac during a family reunion up in Utah.* We risked getting together last year for lunch and that time is was poor Rac's turn. We barely made it 30 minutes before she lost it all. So I was a little hesitant to suggest dinner because we're clearly cursed. Especially considering her long drive back today. But we live on the edge. We had a great time and picked up where we left off (minus the barfing), like we were back at Moon Apartments painting our toe nails and watching reruns of the Love Boat. And I am happy to report that it has been 24 hours and we have checked in with each other and we're both healthy as two healthy things. Hooray! Thanks Rachel & Fam for hanging out with me!

2.) New Friends

Katie and Camille have these friends, Hayley, Heidi and April:

Sisters! Aren't they cute! I had never met them but they read this blog which is how I got myself an invitation to breakfast this morning with them and my sisters at the Avocado House. What? You haven't been to the Avocado House yet? Because why? People of Chino and Surrounding Cities: Go to the Avocado House, order the cinnamon swirl French toast with caramel sauce. Yeah, you read that right. Caramel sauce. You'll want to hug people after your first bite.

Where was I? Right, new friends. So, it's always a little weird for me to meet people who read this blog. Because I'm socially awkward and there's a good reason why I write what I have to say rather than actually say it out loud. I can edit this. But those girls are super fun and we bonded over our loud families and large heads and our love of breakfast food. Thanks for being my new BFFs ladies!

*The third was in Tozeur, Tunisia, praying that I would not die alone on the floor of a bathroom in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Oh that was hours and hours and hours and hours (so many hours) of fun.

I have deemed that word appropriate

2011-05-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

My dad and his siblings once lobbied to have the use of the word "crap" allowed in their home. They failed. But it is allowed here, so I can tell you that today has been a crap day. It has been crappy. Craptastic. Craptacular. Full of crap.

Crap-crap-crappity-crap-a-crap-crap.

It has been one of those days where a whole lot of small crappy incidents have combined, along with killer PMS, to make it a craparific day. Which naturally means that I finished off the day eating peanut butter and honey on a toasted English muffin and sipping cocoa while wrapped in my pink bathrobe. This is my one true solace. Once that ritual was complete I wrote an angry letter to one of the offenders. (Dear Fresh & Easy, You suck. Sincerely, Rachel) ("Suck" is also allowed here, even though I'm pretty certain it would not have been in my Dad's childhood home.) And now I'm going to snuggle under my covers and pray for my headache to go away and for the Bluebird of Happiness to nest back in my soul.

I'm curious - what is your end-of-a-really-crap-day ritual?

Amen

2011-05-09T20:32:00.000-07:00

Well, the Fun Family Funeral weekend has come to a close. It was said on several occasions throughout the last 4 days that you've never seen a happier bunch of mourners. Of course, there were tears. Lots of them. But on the whole the weekend was filled with more laughter than anything and I have a feeling I will look back on it more as a party and will wonder whether or not there were balloons and a pinata. Nearly everyone came into town (oh, how we missed those of you who couldn't make it) and it was a great family reunion and a celebration of an amazing man. We laughed ourselves silly at the funny things Grandpa did and said. We marvelled at all the people who pronounced that if it hadn't been for Howard Knecht their lives would have been a mess. We wept as taps was played and the soldiers folded the flag. And then we held a mini-wake at Taco Bell because it was his favorite place to eat. And not just because you don't have to tip anyone. The whole weekend felt like a resounding "Amen!" to a glorious life.

The Miracle of Rocky

2011-05-05T18:30:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your lovely comments and emails and texts and phone calls. What a wonderful group of friends you are. I have been truly touched.

I have also, and this may surprise you, been not as weepy as one would expect. Basically since Monday I have girded up the old loins and soldiered on, quite cheerfully, I might add. But today for some reason I have been just a little misty-eyed. Possibly because Grandpa's obituary came out today in the local paper and people who didn't know suddenly did and started asking about it. Anyway, I was misty-eyed and trying to talk myself out of full on crying at work when the most miraculous thing happened. But first some background. We have a giant TV up in the waiting room of the Pod that plays a continuous loop of documentaries about any one of the following topics: surfing, trains, space travel, or animals eating other animals. It gets really tedious so the receptionists brought in some different movies - one of which (and here is the miracle) was Rocky III. It is almost impossible to weep sad tears when you're listening to the Rocky theme song and watching him train with Apollo before he goes to town on Mr. T.

"Stick with me and you'll be wearing diamonds as big as radishes."

2011-05-01T23:45:00.000-07:00

My grandpa died on Friday night. And even though it was expected and hoped for (he was 90 and sick) it has still been sad times around these parts. Katie and I got the news on Saturday morning as we were pulling into the church parking lot for a service activity. And then we pulled right back out because we are not quite the stiff-upper-lip types. We are more of the intermittently-weep-throughout-the-day-while-consoling-ourselves-with-leftover-Easter-candy-and-viewings-of-Anne of Green Gables-but-skipping-the-part-where-Matthew-dies-because-who-can-handle-that-even-when-you're-not-emotionally-vulnerable types. But we turned it around today at church, even when faced with kind friends and sweet hugs and orchids left on our doorstep. Nothing breaks me down faster than kindness. I lose it when someone gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder and asks how I'm doing. "Fine (weep, weep)." But I only crumpled once! After that I could talk about it like a champ. Sunday miracle!

So I'm sad because I'll miss him, but more than anything I'm grateful for the knowledge of where he is and I'm grateful to have known him and to have him be such an enormous presence in my life. He was kind and funny and silly and gentle. He was an amazing example of hard work and faithfulness. He loved to tell jokes (What do you call a row of rabbits walking backwards? A receding hare line.) He loved to tell stories - about growing up in Watts (for real, yo!) and his time in the military during the war and dating my grandma and all those crazy jobs he had. Fun Fact: In his later years he was an exterminator so every time I'm in a place that has been sprayed for ants, where other people smell noxious fumes, I only smell Grandpa Knecht.

Once long ago he pulled me into his lap and we watched an episode of MASH together. At the time I felt like I was too old to be cuddling with my grandpa but after a short while I was nestled into his shoulder and he said, "I'm glad you still fit here." And even long after I didn't fit there, any time I would sit next to him he would reach over and take my hand and he'd look down at our fingers and say, "That looks pretty good, doesn't it." And then he'd tell me that I had something on my shirt and then giggle like a kid because he made me look. That, in a nutshell, was my Grandpa. And I'll miss him like crazy.

My invitation must have got lost in the mail.

2011-04-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I skipped work and hosted, along with my sisters, a royal wedding party, complete with fancy hats and crumpets. (For the record, crumpets are just sort of mediocre. They're a cross between pancakes and English muffins, both of which are superior.) I've heard several commentaries on how the royal wedding is a waste of time and not worth all the attention it is getting. And to that I say, Oh, lighten up you big fat crank. Because what is not to love about a royal wedding? There's pomp and tradition and the Arch Bishop of Canterbury (did you SEE his eyebrows?!). And there are gilded carriages and wee little flower girls and David Beckham in a morning suit looking dreamy. And do I even have to mention the Queen? No, I don't. Because my general rule is: Where the Queen goes, so go I. And if the Queen is going to be at a wedding that will be televised (and can be recorded so I don't have to wake up at 2 am), I'm going to watch it.

Fortunately, I don't have cranky friends. In fact, I have the opposite. I have friends who not only wanted to come to the party but gave their full support by wearing fabulous hats and squealing when Kate stepped out of the car.

Speaking of hats: I'm going to quit my job and move to England and become a milliner. Because, folks, I have found my calling. We needed fancy hats so I spent the better part of last night making them for myself, Mom, and Lindsay and then this morning I threw one together for Camille. And much to my surprise they all turned out very large and over-the-top and also, awesome. Katie could also go into the biz because she pulled off a rather fabulous floral number. This is what comes of having felt, tulle, a glue gun and a dream.

Roll the highlight reel:

Camille, with a bird in her hair.

Susan, recognizing the occasion called for a crown

Jenny brought this cake. We later celebrated the event by eating their faces.

The Spread. At one point Laura leaned over to me and said, "I like that all of our brunch food can be considered a dessert. This means the party is a success." Agreed.

Lindsay managed to make it through the day without gouging anyone's eye out with those curly bits.

We agreed that Jenny could pull this hat off at church.

I might not be so lucky. But that did not stop me from wearing it the entire day, long after everyone left. I want to wear this hat to the grocery store, to the bank, while I'm doing my laundry. I feel sparkly and triumphant in it.

This hat that Laura is wearing is from the actual milliner that Diana used!!!

When Katie put on those white bobbly beads I gasped. Genius!

Very Grace Kelly, Liz

Heather arrived looking like she just stepped off the train at Kings Cross in 1952.

Holly skipped part of her planned trip to Disneyland to be with us. That girl's got her priorities straight.

Lindsay made this hat and I'm pretty sure she needs to be my business partner when I open my hat shop

Cute, right?

We stood during the processional. Naturally.

The One Butt Kitchen

2011-04-25T19:32:00.000-07:00

Katie and I call our kitchen a One Butt Kitchen because that's about all it has room for. We cannot open the refrigerator and the dishwasher at the same time. In fact, in order to open the dishwasher we have to move the trashcan. It is wee. But even though it is the clown car of kitchens it does have some magic. Namely, two ovens. Yep. Two people can barely fit in there, but two ovens? Bingo!

Both ovens came in handy on Saturday when we had to bake for both Easter and a dessert auction our ward was having that night to raise money for youth camps. We were up to our eyeballs in baked goods. Between the two of us we made a german chocolate cake, a strawberry cream cake, a chocolate peanut butter pie, a chocolate bundt cake (which was named Too Much Chocolate Cake - as if) and banana nut bread.

Katie's - natch. They're the pretty ones

The banana bread wasn't for anything in particular - we just had rotting bananas and also, this is not our first dessert auction. I have found that when we spend all day baking only to come home without anything I get a little punchy. The banana bread was preemptive.

Later that night, to celebrate the success of the auction, we decorated eggs:

And then rolled around in all the money that was brought in.

Not true - Katie just counted it. And we marvelled once again at how generous and awesome our ward is.