Holiday Antics

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.

Another Blessed Nephew!!!!!!!

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.

Handel at the Nixon

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.

Happy Thanksgiving Back

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.

Let is snow...somewhere else.

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.

Confetti Gun!

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.

A stroke is no excuse.

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"

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.



Pork Bun, Revisited

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?

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

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

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!

This day is a winner

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!

Amen

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

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."

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.

Dear People of America,

My sisters, B & McNelch, are road-tripping across this great nation.  If you see them, ask them to sing "Oklahoma" for you. 

Hugs & Kisses,
Rachel

It used to be a Life of Elegant LEISURE

So, you know how I was in Tunisia for 3 months, and during those three months I didn't have any church responsibilities other than occasionally playing the piano for our teeny group to sing a hymn?  Well, I wish I had known then that the entire purpose of that trip was to give me a chance to take a nap in order to rest up for what has become The Season of Busy.  My life has suddenly become dominated by churchy responsibilities.  This is not a complaint.  Nor is it a nostalgic wish for a return of the good old days when I was just the Primary president.  I'm fine with the work load.  In fact, I'm amazed at how well my naturally chaotic and disorganized brain is handling it all.  Yes, fine.

Fine, except for the sad fact that at the end of the day, when I would normally sit down and type out something humorous on this blog, I find myself staring at a blank screen wondering if I saw anything funny that day.  Of course I saw something funny.  I always see something funny.  But the part of my brain that translates those moments into actual words has been taken over by the part of my brain that demands sleep.  Which means you have missed out on such stories as:  How I Saved $1000 in Car Repairs through a Very Obscure Family Connection, and The Roach I Met at Soup Plantation, and My Tragic Haircut - Volume 15.  All would-be classics. 

So, I'm a little bummed about that.  But let's not be so glum.  Let's look at this picture instead.

That's my grandpa and his brothers at Seal Beach, CA in 1924.  Grandpa is the wee fella in front.  They are, no doubt, about to rob a candy store and then find a girl whose pigtails they can pull.  This could be the Greatest Picture Ever Taken.  National Geographics should put it on the cover.  We should all have it framed and hung in our bathrooms so we can see it each morning to start the day out with a smile. 

Chris, you have a few months to make some baby ones.

Remember the dance my sisters and I did for Christmas?  Before we could take our gloves off after we'd finished my mom and aunts all said, "Wait!  We need pictures!" and without any thought or planning or an ounce of hesitation we posed like this:

Because what are we if not jazz-handing maniacs?  This is the very essence of being a Knecht Girl.

So it thrills me to say that Sam and Stacy are adding one more to our ranks.  Wee Baby Knecht Girl will have a lifetime of choreographed dance numbers and bedazzled gloves to look forward to.

Nine things about Christmas '010

1.  Nephews
2.  The most stress-free family photo session of all time, which generated this gem of Gina and Chris auditioning for a Calvin Klein ad.  Oh how we have laughed and laughed over it.
3.  Sisters Christmas Eve Pedicures!
4.  Lindsay, who is a legit massage therapist, set up her massage chair by the fire on Christmas Day (even though it was only about 65 outside.  We like to be cozy.  Okay, scratch that, I like to be cozy.) and worked us all over.  Here's a tip:  if you're sister comes to you and says, "I'm thinking about going to massage school," chip in for her tuition.  Worth it!
5.  Did I mention the nephews?  Because Holy Cats, they are the Best Thing Ever.  Seriously.  I said the phrase, "That's enormous!" to Ben and he said, "Is that a fat joke?"  I mean, come on!  The kid is 3 and has better timing than most people I know.
6.  I should also mention that my entire family was in town.  If you have spent any amount of time with my family you know what this means - lots of jokes about our heads.
7.  I didn't get out of my pajamas all day.  It was my reward for...

8.  Finishing all of my felt projects at 5:30 pm on Christmas Eve.  I sewed the last stitch onto Kylea's stocking and then did a victory lap.  I made everyone high-five me.

9.  Earlier this month I was commissioned to do this:

Yeah, it's the entire A-Team in felt on a pillow case.  It is as rad as it looks.  Nothing says, "Merry Christmas" more than Hannibal in a scarf.

Bedazzled gloves make everything better

You may recall that my sisters and I do a dance routine every year at the Knecht Family Christmas party.  It is a long and glorious tradition.  We like to mix it up so this year we did a drill team number.  It was exceptional.  Mostly because we had fancy gloves.  Have a look.