Grasping for Objectivity

Pop-Up Pageant.

by Rachel on January 27, 2012

So I know that The Miss America Pageant was two weeks ago.

I’ve been busy – what can I say?

Plus, I just got the opportunity to re-watch parts of the pageant with Ali for our annual viewing party of “The Princesses of the States”.

And really, The Pageant is like a Pixar movie – you need to watch it at least twice to pick up on all of the beautiful subtleties.

Granted, some things were easily appreciated the first time watching it through, as I was checking my favorite annual moments off like a Sequin-Covered Scavenger Hunt.

Such as…

Who will make this year’s flatulence joke?

“Just like a Las Vegas Buffet, we have more natural gas than any other state – I’m Miss West Virginia!!!”

Who will come out gift-wrapped?

Thanks for taking that one, Miss Alabama.

Who will take America’s breath away with her humility and down-to-earthness?

“I think that once you get past the pretty hair, the perfect makeup, the great body, and the beautiful smile, what I want America to know about me is that I have a heart for people.” – Miss Louisiana

Who will bring it all back around to the real reason for the Miss America Pageant, the Scholarships?

“[My evening gown] has a lot of sex appeal, with the high slit and the low cut top. But it’s just showcasing the body I’ve worked so hard on.” — Miss Illinois

But the part that I definitely appreciated more the second viewing was the talent competition, despite this year’s serious lacking of a proper yodeler.

Because we’re a Twitter generation, it would be ludicrous to assume that a 90 second song or dance could hold our attention solely on it’s own, so this year they added pop-up facts.

And the facts they chose to share with America…fascinating stuff, I tell you.

Ali and I learned that Miss Tennessee was an aspiring Cougar,

That Miss California was thrilled with the fact that .002% of her state cares about what she has to say,

That Miss Illinois was…how does that even come up in real life??

And then she had me Googling her second fact … only to find out that her first one would have fallen under it.

(Which means the Windmill fear must be especially intense, what with getting named specifically and all.)

Miss Oklahoma, however, is not nearly as afraid of getting up close and personal with large objects.

Miss Texas felt the need to state the obvious,

and then make us all ask “Well why DIDN’T you, then??”

Miss Wisconsin showed her ignorance as to the definition of the word “secretly”,

And Miss New York just made us wonder.

And finally, Miss Louisiana left me envisioning a dozen different scenarios in which this could have possibly occurred.

So this got me thinking.

What would my pop-up facts be?

Perhaps,

And of course there’s always,

If only there were pop-up facts in real life, because now I’m consumed with curiosity as to what all of yours are.

{ 17 comments }

A Culmination of Sweet, Sweet Justice.

by Rachel on January 25, 2012

in Delicious Greekness,I'm a Glutton for Adventure,Storytime,Weird Strange and True

Chris and I went to Atlanta last weekend. I had a couple of Vault parties in The Big City, and he tagged along to make it a date weekend.

Friday night, we went out to eat at Taverna Plaka with Chris’ former roommate and Roommate’s Girlfriend.

If you’ve been hanging around here for a while, the name “Taverna Plaka” should conjure up images of Greek belly dancers, us dancing with belly dancers, and maybe even Chris and his blinky-tied uncle dancing on a table with belly dancers.

But despite our many past adventures, we somehow forgot how loud it could get, and went with the intention of catching up with an old friend and getting to know his girlfriend.

Hard to do when you can’t hear each other yell an inch away from your face.

We’d only met Roommate’s Girlfriend (R.G.) once before (and it was very briefly), so we were on our best behavior. We were polite, we were complimentary of Roommate, and we tried to actually hear every word R.G. said, despite the Greek Dance Music vibrating off of the ceiling and napkins being thrown all over us.

When our drinks arrived at the table, Roommate mentioned that it was a good thing that R.G. ordered water, because she was the most notorious drink-spiller in the entire world.

Chris and I smiled knowingly at each other.

I piped up, as Chris simultaneously tried to shush me.

“Oh NO! I hope you don’t spill a drink tonight!! Spilled drinks are Chris’ ONE pet peeve in the entire world!!”

Chris got embarrassed.

“Now, now, don’t tell her that. She’ll think I’m a terrible person!!”

But you see, it’s true. It doesn’t matter if a drink spill occurs three rooms away from him and was perpetrated by an innocent one year old or by his thirty year old wife, he WILL notice and he WILL huff and puff and get all bent out of shape.

I, too, was once a drink spiller. But because of his extreme issue with this particular character flaw, I have learned to NEVER spill.

The kids, however, are still learning. Which causes us to regularly have conversations about our differing philosophies regarding reactions to accidents.

I explained all of this to her.

Chris, albeit ashamed, couldn’t deny the truth. We all have our weaknesses, after all.

R.G. was amused, and a little glad she’d picked the right man for her situation.

She and Roommate told us the story of how she spilled an entire gigantic-Mexican-Restaurant-cup in his lap on their first date, and then toward the end of the very same meal, spilled an entire gigantic-Mexican-Restaurant-cup into her own plate. And how this trend had been a constant in their relationship henceforth.

Chris was amused, and a little glad he’d picked the right woman for his situation.

The music kicked up and our conversation died down.

And then, as we sat waiting for the opportunity to continue our conversation, it happened.

For the first time in thirteen years.

There aren’t enough superlatives in the English language to adequately describe it, but it was magical.

Chris reached for his Diet Coke, and his aim was a little off.

His FULL Diet Coke.

He knocked it with his hand, and every last drop ran for gleeful freedom in my direction.

My mouth hung open in shock as the world as I knew it spun off it’s axis.

The freed drink seeped from my bra to the tips of my socks, and quite literally puddled in my lap. An impressive number of especially aggressive drops made it all the way to the other side of my chair and showered my purse, with a particular concentration on my iPhone.

I quickly watched Chris’ face, waiting for him to implode and disappear off the face of the earth.

He was sitting there, gasping for breath, having a complete internal existential crisis as he watched the laws of physics as he understood them completely betray him.

“But…I barely touched it!! I didn’t even feel it!! How did that happen?!?!?!”

I began to laugh. Hysterically. Evilly. Gloatingly.

I gasped between waves of laughter.

“You can…never…ever…ever…EVER…get mad…at…another spilled drink….ever again!!”

He somehow managed to come back to earth and unwrapped all of our silverware in attempts to use the 0% absorbent pieces of useless cloth to soak up his mess.

I handed him my iPhone.

“You fix that. I’ll work on the rest.”

I blotted and laughed. I picked up my purse, watched Coke pour out of it, and laughed. I felt down to the bottom of my now-carbonated boots and laughed.

Roommate and R.G. looked on, confused.

“So…I take it this has never happened before?”

My eyes shone with the victory that can only be found in a long-fought battle. “I have been waiting for this moment for THIRTEEN YEARS. And it is glorious.”

Epilogue:

Roommate and R.G. now both think that we’re a little batty, especially since I continued to break out in spontaneous whooping laughter for the remainder of the evening.

Chris is beginning his process of acceptance of the world as it now is, which is crushing to his soul.

And I, still slightly damp and a bit sticky, am shouting “TAVERNA!” at the top of my lungs the minute anyone spills anything. FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.

{ 38 comments }

Alabama’s Recurring Nightmare.

by Rachel on January 24, 2012

in Tornadoes

Thank you all for your concerned tweets, comments, emails, and Facebook messages yesterday.

We are okay.

Living in Alabama, as much as I adore it otherwise, is beginning to feel like a nasty game of Tornado Roulette.

Just the mention of tornadoes has a vastly different impact on me (and most likely the rest of the state) than it did before last April. Combine that anxiety with knowing an entire day beforehand that a potentially severe tornado outbreak is coming in the middle of the night, and it becomes nearly beyond bearable.

They began talking Sunday morning about what was to come between midnight and 6 AM. We were driving back from Atlanta, and we began to dread the night.

I laid in bed for hours Sunday night, wide awake, mind racing about a dozen different things, but with an ever-present anxiety over what could happen in the coming hours.

I finally fell asleep somewhere after 1 AM.

At 3 AM, the tornado sirens began blaring. Chris’ weather radio app began beeping loudly. And the wind began howling.

Chris started watching the satellite radar on his phone. Being that I had only been asleep for two hours, I somehow stayed in that bizarre state of not-awake-but-not-asleep, even though it seemed like they had set the sirens to some sort of tortuous yet merciful continuous repeat cycle.

Chris stayed awake for two hours, eyes glued to his iPhone screen. Our weather radio app has street-level drill down capabilities, so he was able to watch in detail as the EF-3 tornado progressed through the county.

Knowing that he would wake me if we needed to run to the basement, I somehow managed to keep half-dozing.

As it came toward us, we were within two streets of being included in what is known as The Polygon, which is the area of possible tornado track. Just as Chris was ready to jump up, grab Ali and tell me to grab Noah, the tornado jogged northeast.

He went back to sleep at 5, only to be woken again at 6:30 by his phone ringing. I listened in my grogginess to murmured phone call after phone call.

The tornado had hit the street that his office is on.

The power was out, but the building was okay.

Some of the employees who live closer to the office than we do were trapped in their neighborhoods by debris and trees.

Main roads were completely inaccessible.

I listened to his end of the calls through my grogginess.

No, no, no!! Why do we have to go through this again?

This just isn’t supposed to happen in January. This isn’t supposed to happen in January!!

After the kids and I woke up, ate breakfast, and finished our morning routines, I began to look at the local news.

The images … chilled me.

Although I haven’t been able to get out to any of the damaged areas myself, my television screen has been filled with sights like this,

And this.

Just like last time, just a mere twenty minutes away from our house.

The stories made me bite my lip to hold back the tears.

…A father and son, yanked out of their house and deposited into the family’s swimming pool – they lived through it. The mother, severely injured but alive, was buried under debris. The sixteen year old daughter, still on her mattress, eyes closed as if still peacefully asleep, was found dead 40 feet away from their house.

The damage was not nearly as widespread as it was nine months ago, but to those hit, it was just as devastating.

So far, three are known to have lost their lives.

Over a hundred were injured.

Countless houses were lost, businesses were destroyed, and neighborhoods were ravaged.

And they are still digging through the debris.

I groaned at the thought of reliving it all over again.

But I was also thankful.

Thankful that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Thankful that so many lives were saved by the plentiful warnings ahead of time.

Thankful that Alabama knows how to handle tornadoes and that so many are already jumping into action.

So very thankful that my family, yet again, was safe.

James Spann captured my feelings best with this fabulous photo.

Though the destruction is great, our hope is greater.

For those of you who have asked how you can help, here are a few ways:

1. Keep praying!! Your notes that you were praying for Alabama meant so much.

- Pray that if there are any more survivors in the rubble, they would be found and helped immediately.
- Pray for the families that have lost everything as they try to cope with their new reality.
- Pray for the recovery workers’ strength and safety.

2. The Christian Service Mission has done such an excellent job at providing immediate and practical help to Alabamians in need, so I set up a Causes page to allow anyone to make donations directly to them. They were the backbone of the last tornado relief efforts, and they are already stepping up to do more than their share of recovery again. Since they are locally based and do not have large amounts of overhead, supporting them goes a long way toward helping the community.

Specifically for other Alabamians wanting to help:

1. If you blog about your experience with this week’s or last April’s tornadoes and link it here, the Alabama Disaster Relief Blogging Program will donate $25 to the Christian Service Mission.

2. I’m sure there are many churches offering support and relief, but the one I know of so far is Northpark Baptist Church on Deerfoot Parkway. As of yesterday afternoon, they were in immediate need of Water, Snacks, and Plywood.

3. If you have goods to donate to the Christian Service Mission, they will be accepting them at their downtown warehouse starting tomorrow. You can also like their Facebook Page to keep up to date with their needs.

I will update this list if I hear of other opportunities.

Thank you all for your kindness and support!

{ 19 comments }

On Being Truman.

by Rachel on January 23, 2012

in Blogging: the therapy.,I'm a Blog Geek,Kids: The Experience.

This post has been written and in my drafts folder for over a month, hence the Christmas references. I went back and forth about publishing it or not because there are parts of it that could be construed as me being arrogant about blogging. I don’t ever want to come across that way. I am well aware that I am not some super-popular blogger, and I don’t want to ever give off the “internet celebrity” vibe, seeing as how it is quite untrue. However, Ali’s feelings about my blogging is something that people often ask about, so I still felt that this post had some intrinsic value and potential interest.

(Can you tell that I might have a problem with overanalyzation? Just a tiny one. Nothing major.)

So, I shall publish this post, as long as you promise not to shake your head while saying something along the lines of “boy, she must really think SHE’S something.”

Okay?

Okay.

“Hey Mommy? There’s something that I’ve always wondered, and I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time.”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Are we in a story?”

“Well, actually, we are. You know about my blog? It’s where I write stories about what we do and about other things, and people come and read them.”

“So if we’re in a story, are we in real life too?”

“Yes – we’re definitely in both.”

“How do you get out of a story? Do you have to go to heaven to escape?”

“Well, I guess I could quit writing it… do you want me to?”

“No…but we’re in real life too, right??”

“Yes. Don’t worry – I promise we’re real.”

At first, I thought this was a random four year old conversation. But the more I thought about it, I realized that Ali must be finally picking up on the fact that some people seem to know her even if she doesn’t know them, and they always seem to know what she did last week.

Whenever this happens to her (often at Church, or if we meet a blog reader for a playdate or something), she gets very shy and uncomfortable, and I guess she wasn’t quite clear on how exactly these people knew everything about her.

…not that this new understanding helped her deal with her life voyeurs…

The next day, we went to eat at one of our favorite restaurants, Nabeel’s. Ali was admiring the murals on the wall, and began asking our waitress about them. The waitress kindly told her all about them and the man who painted them. While she explained, she addressed Ali and Noah by name.

When she walked away, I explained…

“Remember yesterday when we talked about the stories Mommy writes on her blog? That lady reads them – that’s how she knew who you were. Isn’t that fun?”

(I swear this doesn’t happen often – and I already happened to know that this waitress read my blog.)

Ali immediately clammed up and looked shocked. She seemed even more disconcerted than ever about her real-and-not-real existence.

A few days later, we received several Christmas cards from blog readers, and a sweet little package from one especially awesome reader.

She had hand stitched tiny stockings with all of our names on them, each one having a different design.

Fabulous, no??

Ali absolutely loved these ornaments, and proceeded to play with them for the rest of the night.

I once again tried to help Ali see the positive side of blogging…

“These are from a lady that reads the stories I write on the internet. Isn’t that sweet of her to send them?”

“Yes!!”

I was relieved that maybe she was coming to terms with the whole idea.

After a little more thought, she added,

“But if she reads all about me on the internet, then why did she put my name on the snowman stocking?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my FAVORITE stocking is the Christmas Tree one. If she really reads all of your stories about me, why wouldn’t she KNOW that it would be my favorite?!?”

…And that’s how long it takes to turn a kid into a diva.

{ 20 comments }

Tangled With Party Spirit.

January 19, 2012

Caution: Overly Photoey post ahead with many vague Tangled references that only a Mom who has been forced to watch it 876 times would understand. I am not a crafty person. (Mainly because I’m an extremely lazy person.) But you better believe that when I do get a crafty spark, you’re absolutely going to hear [...]

44 comments Read More!

SurveyMommy.

January 18, 2012

I went on a second date the other day. It was nerve-wracking, because we had been hooked up over one of those internet sites for months – you know the type I’m talking about? No, not a dating site – geez, people. One of those Mommy blog things. Anyway, so blind dates are scary enough, [...]

27 comments Read More!

Coexist.

January 16, 2012

I watched as a young mom was pummeled for her choices. A steady stream of other mothers came by the blog on which she had posted her story to inform her of how horrifyingly awful she was. How heartbroken they were for her child. How selfish and unloving she was. How wrong she was going [...]

118 comments Read More!

Lurker Appreciation!

January 13, 2012

Today is National Delurking Day, which is the only national blogging holiday that I look forward to every year with great(!!) excitement(!!) (That could be because it’s the only national blogging holiday. But still.) My favorite part of blogging is the relationships with you guys. And being that I’m so not a narcissist and [...]

96 comments Read More!

The Stages of Blog Failure Emotions.

January 12, 2012

So yesterday during the kid’s naptimes, (also known as my only work time), my blog went down. Like, DOWN down. Like, so down that I couldn’t even get to my admin page down. And then – it stayed down. For sixteen hours. One can go through a lot of emotions in sixteen hours. 1. Denial. [...]

15 comments Read More!

Price As Marked.

January 11, 2012

Friday night… “You should get the Grouper. You love Grouper, and it’s the catch of the day!!” I scowled at him. “Are you kidding? It says ‘Market Price’!! I totally don’t know how much that is!” “Oh come on. You can ask if you’re that hung up about it. I’m sure it’s about the same [...]

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