Sure my hair would look great but would I stink?

1.) My hair has lost it's bounceability and I'm contemplating going old school (like 1900 old school) and rinsing my hair with vinegar because I hear it's a miracle worker on non-bouncy hair. But I need to first hear from people who have done this to find out a.) if it actually works and b.) will my hair smell like a pickling plant all day. Would someone else like to try this out first? I'll bake you cookies.

2.) I just read this article heralding the death of voice mail and I have to say hurrah for that. Because if there is one thing I am incredibly bad at, it is leaving voice messages. It stems from my fear of talking to people on the phone, although I prefer to leave a voice mail than to get the actual person on the line. Which should give you a pretty good idea of how bad I am on the phone. Gosh, I'm awkward. I jumble my words and I self-edit, which is great on a blog, but painful on a recording, and about 99% of the time I hang up and say, "Well, that was really dumb and embarrassing and now they won't want to be my friend anymore because I'm a moron who can't complete a sentence and I'm going to have to live in a Home for the Tragic and Friendless." The sooner it is dumped the better.*

3.) Last night Heather and I were down in the parking lot practicing our nunchuck skills and my home teacher drove by with the missionaries. Naturally, they had to get out and watch. And then one thing led to another and both the elders had the nunchucks and were beating on each other. It was the most enlightening/hilarious/horrifying thing I have seen because even though missionaries are servants of God, they are still 20 year old guys. And 20 year old guys will take any opportunity to beat each other up that comes their way. They will especially do it if given something as cool as nunchucks. This is one of the biggest differences between men and women. The girls and I just stand there and practice our moves. We would never dream of hitting each other because we know, from painful experience, that they really hurt. But the very first thing the elders did was start swinging at each other. And then they would take turns hitting each other really hard to see exactly how much it hurt. And they asked questions like, "Do you ever get to spar with each other?" (not yet but soon) and, "Have you learned how to kill a man?" (I think that's next month).

*Although it would also mean that I won't get anymore voice messages from Liz, who leaves THE BEST VOICE MESSAGES EVER. Seriously. You will laugh until you cry when you listen to them.

For the Birds

I think the birds of the world are up to something. They're hatching some kind of diabolical plan to take over the world and it's up to us to stop them!

Here's how I know:

1.) Liz was attacked by one. It's a good thing she's a C.N. (Certificated Nunchucker)

2.) One infiltrated Andrea's building (maybe to tap the phones or plant explosives or check out the snack situation in case of a lengthy stand-off.)

3.) Early in the morning the birds that live in the trees outside my apartment have been having some kind of heated war counsel. They shriek and chirp and yell at each other for hours. I'm pretty sure that they are rival gangs who have no choice but to come together in the name of Total World Domination. But they're not happy about it.

4.) There are plump little fledglings all over Las Brisas (I know they are fledglings because Liz pointed them out to me. She knows a thing or two about birds. Specifically birds who are trying to kill you.) They hop around the parking lot, looking adorable, and I have a feeling that while I'm distracted by their chubby cuteness the heavies are pecking away at the gas line in my apartment.

5.) Birds are suddenly ignoring my car. Three times in the last week I have come very close to squashing birds with my car because, even though they're looking right at me, they refuse to get out of the way. Yesterday one took off about a second before my car ran it over and instead of flying away from the car, it flew into my windshield! These birds are playing chicken with me and I don't like it. Their boldness is terrifying.

6.) I have seen four dead birds this week. FOUR! One just this morning. This is the one that really gets me because I think the birds are sending us a message that says: see what we did to our friends who resisted us? Imagine what we would do to our enemies.

I wonder if they're upset that the swine flu has kicked the avian flu to the curb

This Blog is a Fat Joke

The 5K was a success! Except that it was not a 5K. Or even a 5K+ like they advertised. It was a 6K+. We passed the 1K sign in no time and then like 18 hours later we passed the 2K sign and we figured that something was up so I just mapped it out on Google Earth (don't you love that feature?) and it was 6.3K. Of hills, I might add. It was more of a hike through residential areas than a walk. But it was fun and the weather was lovely and we had a good cry beforehand as they introduced all the cancer kids we were doing the race for (seriously, I was not prepared for all those tears.) and at the end of the race we got medals and a pancake breakfast. I've decided that everything should end with a pancake breakfast. Wouldn't that be great if, say, at the end of cleaning your bathroom or balancing your checkbook or weeding your garden someone made you pancakes?

Funny story about that breakfast, but first some background: If you've spent more than 5 minutes with my sister Camille you have heard her call something a fat joke. Like if a chair is really small she'll say, "This chair is a fat joke." Or if she's trying on a shirt that doesn't fit right, "This shirt is a fat joke." You get the picture. So we started and finished the race at Chino Hills High - Home of the Huskies, and the breakfast was held in the school's courtyard and (this is where I wish I had my camera on me so that I could post the picture but you're just going to have to take my word for it) above the entrance to the courtyard was a sign that said, "Husky Student Entrance". The ultimate fat joke! We laughed and laughed...as we piled pancakes and bacon on our plates.

One race down, one more to go. There is still time to donate to the cause. A good question was asked about it being a one time donation or by the mile. It's a one time donation. By the mile would be pretty sad as it is only a 3 mile race.

And good news on the musical headliner: Michael Bolton! HILARIOUS!

PS. I didn't get any pictures of us at the race but you can see what we looked like after the race as we jackhammered our parent's backyard. I think the medals are a nice touch.

Why can't they make it a 1K

Somehow I have signed up for not one, but two 5Ks over the next 2 Saturdays. I know. Who am I? This is the walking variety 5K. The only time I think it's appropriate for me to run is if I'm being chased by zombies. And it's not like zombies can move very fast. So unless there are zombies chasing me, I'll be walking.

Tomorrow I'm doing one in Chino Hills for the Let it Be Foundation which helps terminally ill kids. That's worthy, right? We get to briskly stroll around Chino Hills State Park and enjoy a pancake breakfast afterwards.

And next Saturday is a slightly larger one in LA. The Revlon Run/Walk for Women's Cancers where you get to walk around the seedier side of the city and end up at the Coliseum where an 80s band will be playing. One year it was Kenny Loggins. Last year it was the Go-Gos. I'm praying it's Boston this year.

I just registered for it and they give you the option to start up a fundraising page, and because I'm such a follower, I did. So if you would like to donate to the cause just click here. I particularly hate asking people to donate to things. No really, I do. I failed at all those school fundraisers and that was for things like new kickballs. Not for cancer research. But I know that you're a lovely group of people and if you're feeling generous or have an extra buck or two that you'd like to toss this way, head on over. The site automatically sets the outrageously high goal of $2000. But no worries, the Wealthy Benefactor will make up the difference, I'm sure.

And if you'd like to join us (it's just me and Katie so far) go ahead and register. We can wear matching t-shirts! We have to leave insanely early in the morning but I can promise you witty conversation after 7am. And if there are zombies you get to see me run.

National Jim-Jam Day

After a riveting episode of America's Next Top Model, wherein Tyra taught us all how to pose for the camera so as not to appear so short and hippy (it's like she was speaking just to me), Katie and I ended up watching a fascinating program on PBS about Bhutan. I don't know what that says about us, being able to go from Tyra to Bhutan in 3 minutes, but I like it.

Bhutan prides itself on having the happiest people in the world. Seriously. They take surveys and everything to measure their Gross National Happiness. Cute, huh? They chalked it up to clean living, fresh mountain air, hard work, a stable government and economy, Buddism, national and cultural pride, strong families, and centuries of isolation in the Himalayas. All that may have contributed, but I think their real happiness came from something else. Here's the standard Bhutanese day wear:

I can tell you for sure that if I got to wear my bathrobe everyday, I'd be pretty happy too.

Don't you think we should institute a weekly jim-jam day? I think it would do wonders for the National Funk we're in right now. We would all still have to go to work and live our lives, but we could do it in our jammies, without anyone judging us.

I should admit right now that I do judge people who go out in the PJs or lounge wear. Remember a few years ago when wearing lounge wear out to the grocery store was all the rage? People would show up in the produce aisle wearing plushy track suits, and it would infuriate me because when did it become acceptable to walk around looking like you just rolled out of bed? Have some dignity people! It's one thing to put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and throw your hair back in a pony tail, but at least you look like you've made an effort. So I'm against such loose standards.

But, if it were, say, National Jim-Jam Tuesday and everyone could wear their over-sized flannel pants and an old t-shirt and scuzzy slippers they can't bare to part with, all in the name of Freedom and Democracy and the American Dream, well, that I could get behind.

Music on the Brain

It's a little interesting to me that I have music on the brain since I opted out of listening to any this morning at the gym (Pain update: Abs and arms have apologized for their bad attitudes. Hamstrings are still angry*.) I always listen to music when I work out. But for some reason I didn't want any today. Guess what I listened to instead. My incredibly loud breathing. Knights of Columbus, I'm a loud breather when I work out.


But I do have music on the brain. And here's how it came about: I recently read a comment on an old post on my other blog that Courtney left**, which made me remember that once upon a time I asked for music recommendations and Courtney recommended Andrew Bird to me, particularly one song, wherein we learn that there will be snacks at the end of the world, that has since become one of my favorite songs. I seriously love this song. But as much as I love it I often wonder if it would make it to my Top 10.

I wondered it this morning as I was listening to a song that would make it on my Top 10***, if one actually existed, because I don't have a Top 10. I can't pin down songs like that. I guess I have a short list for the Top 10. It has about 50 songs on it. I suppose I could just call it my Top 50 but then how do you even determine what goes in the 20s and what goes in the 40s?

So I don't have a Top 10, or a Top 50. But I know what belongs there when I hear it. It's generally a song that has been with me for a few years. One that doesn't get skipped when it comes up on the shuffle because you can listen to it in any mood.

Because we're friends, and I'm curious like a cat, I think you should tell me one song that would be in your Top 10.

*Does anyone know how to combat this? I always stretch before and after working out but my hamstrings are always sore the next day. No matter what exercises I do.

**Dear Courtney, This is me responding to you. I don't know how to do the clapping on "Underdog" and it kills me every time because I know in my heart that I will instantly be 10% cooler if I could just get it down. I am now dedicating my life to learning it and promise to share it with you as soon as I crack the code. Love, Rachel

PS. I'm sure you've heard this already but I think it needs to be publicly declared that yours was officially the Funnest Reception I Have Ever Been to in My Whole Life, Hands-Down.

***"Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" by Paul Simon.

Ouch

I've been trying to think of a good metaphor for how sore I am today. One does not exist. I will tell you though that I painted red curbs for a few hours on Saturday which has caused my hamstrings to stage a revolt. They will no longer let me sit, stand or walk. And yesterday at the gym I worked my abs, which from the looks of things don't actually exist on me, but let me tell you, they do. You can't see them but if you listen closely you can hear them screaming. I'm pretty sure they have pitchforks. And last night at nunchucks we had to practice our blocking. We do blocking every week but it's just the motions. This time we actually had to block foam sticks coming at our face. Guess what happens when you block a foam stick about 100 times. Your arms fall off. I'm typing this with my nose, which is the only part of my body still working.

I am 80.

They should just call it manure.

Let's say you're an intrepid first-time gardener and on a whim you decide to plant some squash seeds in a little pot to see what would happen. As squash seeds often do, they sprouted and grew and got too big for the pot so you replant them in a much bigger pot, one that has space down at the bottom that you can fill with water so that the roots have a constant supply. This particular feature wasn't as much of selling point for you as the nice shade of green. You really don't know what you're doing and are easily wooed by pretty things. But you water your squash plant and say nice things to it and you constantly move it around your wee balcony to get the maximum amount of sunlight on it and every day you check the water level to make sure it's not dying of thirst and you notice that the water level is not going down. You're squash is refusing to drink! But you know that a squash is a squash and squash, by their vary nature, are big time water drinkers. They don't worry about water retention or having to pee all the time. So you start inspecting. Everything looks normal. But you notice a distinct smell. A smell from your youth growing up in a dairy community. That is to say, the smell of cow poo. And you remember that smell from when you bought your potting soil and pretty green pot but at the time you thought that it just meant that it was full of lovely nutrients that would help your squash grow nice and plump. But now you're wondering if it really was potting soil you planted your first squash plant in. So you check the bag and realize that it is not, in fact, potting soil, but rather garden soil. As in soil you put on top of the existing dirt in your garden. Which, you realize, is just a pleasant way of saying manure.

So, if you were this gardener, what would you do? Would you:

a.) Leave the plant where it is and call it a science experiment to see how well squash grows in manure.
b.) Replant it in actual soil, even though the plant is getting really large and you're afraid that it won't handle the move very well.
c.) Chuck the whole thing and buy squash at the market. Who were you kidding, anyways?
d.) Hope that one of your super smart friends is a squash whisperer and will know what to do and will comment on your blog with reassuring words and helpful advice.

Promotion

"Hey, what's that over there?"

Oh, that? That's just my nunchuck certificate of promotion.

Take THAT 9th kyu! We took you DOWN TO CHINA TOWN! (Visualize me now doing a fist pump and a high kick.)(Why would you be laughing at that? Is it because my legs are 2 inches tall?)

Liz, Katie, Heather, and I all promoted last night and it was pretty awesome. We got to class and the first thing Sensei said to us was, "You know what's really good for you? Stress. YOU'RE TESTING RIGHT NOW!" Eek! Nerves! And on our first official night with wooden nunchucks even! So Sensei Sam took us aside and made us go through the 9th kyu moves individually. We've been practicing these moves for a month now and when I'm doing them down in the parking lot of Las Brisas I'm a pro nunchucker. But try doing them in front of Sensei Sam when a certificate is at stake. And a belt!

But we were great. At the end of the class we all lined up and Sensei gave us each certificates and we get our first belt next week. We actually can't wear it until we have our gi and we've all agreed to not get a gi until after we get our yellow belt (Which is next. Right now we're white belts with yellow stripes (which is really just yellow electrical tape (fancy))) but you know I will be sporting it around the house. Possibly to church. The good folks at Stater Bros. will definitely be seeing it.

When I started the class I had no idea how fun this would be. I knew that by it's very nature it would be hilarious, but learning all these new skills is really cool. After we tested, the class had a challenge, where two people would get up and perform the same move to see who could do it best. We got to see some of the higher belt moves and they are really impressive. And along with being amazed by them I thought, "I really want to do that!" Because it looks awesome and fun. And would be really impressive at a ward talent show. It's been a dream of mine to have a talent show talent. And now I have one and a certificate to prove it.

My arms are tingling

I'm feeling weird today. Not sick, just weird. Kind of jittery and sleepy at the same time. And my arms are tingling. Does this mean I'm dying?

Possible reasons for this are:

1.) I donated blood on Saturday and it always takes me a while to get over it.
2.) I had a pretty bad headache all day yesterday that has dulled but is still hanging around like that last person at a party you're throwing who won't leave, even after everyone else has gone home and you're doing the dishes and yawning and mentioning how tired you are and you just can't wait to get into bed. Dear Headache, It is time to go home. Love, Rachel.
3.) I got approximately 2 minutes of sleep last night.
4.) I didn't work out this morning and my body knows that it's suppose to work out on Monday morning and is now all, "I'll make you feel weird until you get up and move." Dear Body, Back off! I got 2 minutes of sleep, alright? Love, Rachel.
5.) I went cold turkey on my Easter candy and now my body is all, "But I need the chocolate. Gimme, gimme!"
6.) It's hot today. And it was hot yesterday. And spring was just so nice and pleasant and now we've entered into 6 months of summer and I'm just not prepared for it.
7.) Zac Efron.

I've put a poll up. Let me know if I'm dying or not.