Haha, I really don't know what to say. I said I would write. But I didn't. I probably would be wise to not mention it and therefore, not draw attention to the date, but there's really no hiding it. I officially stink at this blogging thing.
So anyway, I was thinking about a couple stories I gathered in the past weeks, and surprisingly there really weren't any good ones from the holidays. Sure we had fun, ate too much, and spent way too many nights up and doing things that weren't really that important. (Like that dumb dollhouse, I swear, Emma didn't even notice it was painted on the outside...)
Besides the normal holiday things, there really wasn't anything outstandingly funny.
So instead I'm going to write about what happened after Christmas and New Year's.
Nearly my entire family had gotten together to go to lunch, the exception being my brother, and we were on our way there, all crammed into the old suburban.
Now, the squirrels in my neighborhood, and I believe everywhere, always seen to think that the opportune time to cross the street is right when you happen to be passing by.
So as we were driving, we saw one of those same suicidal squirrels, darting back and forth in the street in front of us. My mom is no squirrel killer, but my dad might as well have been at that moment. That darn squirrel wouldn't make up its mind, even after he'd slowed almost to a stop in front of it as it continued to have spasms and dart back and forth, as if it's memory was so short it couldn't even remember which direction it had originally been running. Finally, my father, loosing all patience for that pathetic excuse for an animal, starts yelling, "Commit! Commit!" So loud that I was sure the neighbors could have heard.
The squirrel finally did choose a side, but not after we'd all nearly peed our pants laughing.
It was actually this same experience that influenced my decision to write about this next story.
I've mentioned the horseplace a couple times in my entries and now, I'm going to mention one person in particular. River.
Now this seven year old is beyond having an attention disorder. He's down right atrocious. However, his total inability to focus only makes you fall in love with him more. That is, up until the point where he leaves your protective side and darts around the legs of a thousand pound animal that could kill him with one kick. Than you want to kill him yourself.
See, River is the kind of kid that has to have it happen to him, before he knows something is bad. Like, for instance, getting stepped on by a horse. My boss and I had told him only a million times that putting your feet underneath the horse not only results in extreme pain, but the likely possiblity that all five of your toes could be ground into beef they use to make hamburgers. But of course, this being River, he had to test what we told him and one day, as we were leading his faithful old horse Blaze, to the ramp, he decided it was the opportune time.
"What happens-" He began, as he jutted his foot out and underneath the horse. "If you stick your foot here?"
Immediately Blaze stepped down right on top of him and it was only our quick thinking that kept him from losing all his toes that day. I laughed, and my boss simply said, "That happens."
Honestly though, I have never met a kid who spouts so much nonsense, while somehow finding the ability to ignore every single thing you say to him.
One time, as we were trying to ask him to turn his horse to the right, he interrupted saying, "Who babysits the sun?"
Julie (my boss) and I just looked at one another.
"Oh right," River finishes. "The moon does."
Then the same day as we passed his mother, sitting on a picnic bench, reading a book, and waiting for us, he suddenly blurts out, "Melissa!"
Looking up alarmed, his mom asks, "Did he just call me by my first name?"
Julie nodded and we both just shrugged. At this point, we were beyond wondering what River was thinking.
And it was then, that I couldn't help but think, as River's mind jumped from one thing to another-"Can we pet the rabbit? What's that? Blue is my favorite color. Why? Why do we have to do that?"- That he was a little bit like that squirrel, that couldn't make up its mind about crossing the street. Even his bulging brown eyes reminded me of a squirrels at that moment. I laughed and just pictured in my mind my father screaming at River, "Commit! Commit!"
There were two fabulous quotes by people these past two weeks. I couldn't decided between the two (as always) so I threw them both in just for the heck of it.
When talking about the land owner who had made our lives more troublesome than I thought humanely possible, my friend Tracy said, "I know she's not evil, but I'm pretty sure there's a little spot in Hell for her..." It made my day, year, entire career working there.
And my brother, when talking about the prospect of getting a turtle: "I'm going to go to the turtle pound."
If there was such a place, I'd love to see it. Maybe while they're at it, they should make a rehabilitation facility for those suicidal squirrels...
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Sugar is a dangerous weapon
To begin another one of these blog entries with reasons and excuses why I haven't written in months, would be boring. So for the sake of not only my sanity but the rest of my readers (which mainly consists of my poor mother and father, and one loyal friend) I will not enter into another tirade.
Instead I will focus on what I am doing. Which is nothing.
My dilemma you can see, is one hard to overcome.
Boredom is something often hard to shake, it seems, and I've found that the best cure to boredom is to voice it to everyone you know. Eventually any good natured person will grow so annoyed with your self pitying monologue, that they will personally remove all boredom from your life.
Like with sugar.
You know, most mothers are normal. They like shopping, talking about boys, and giggle over funny stories only girls giggle over. This seems to be the common "Mom" I encounter, so I often ask myself how I ended up with my Mom.
I've mentioned her in previous stories, but I think to fully understand my mother, I have to tell you a story that happened only a week ago, while we were waiting in the car outside of our local grocery store.
Mom and I weren't alone, the rest of my little siblings were all crammed in the car with us, making far too much noise for the claustrophobic interior to handle. We'd been arguing over something and it was about this time that I brought up my boredom with the week, my life, anything I could think of.
I was doing one of those annoying teen moves where I was adding a whine to my tone and saying, "I'm just SO bored. There's NOTHING to do. My life SUCKS." You know, stressing the words that you totally shouldn't stress in front of your parents.
I thought I'd hit a nerve and we could launch into a motivational conversation where my mother gave me all these great ideas about what I could do (Something, I might add, that has NEVER happened.) However, instead of remaining calm and collected, like most mothers do, mine picked up a magazine resting on the console and threw it at me, a nasty smirk on her face.
"Hey!" I cried, throwing up my arms to block the magazine. So instead she picked up a pencil and pelted me with that as I continued to cry out in alarm, "Hey! Stop!"
"Start the violins!" She retorted, laughing at my alarmed face.
I grabbed the leftover Burger King bag I'd been dying to throw at somebody and nailed her in the back of the head, right as she whirled around, armed with a napkin, which was frankly pretty pathetic since it just floated down in front of me and sank to the floor.
I laughed at her latest week attempt and geared up to toss one of my brother's Crocs at her, when out of nowhere I felt a shower of dust hit me like a hurricane and every muscle in my body froze.
She did NOT just go there.
Looking down I saw a thick film of pink powder covering me from head to toe, sparkling in the sunlight.
"MOTHER!" I shrieked, trying not to move too quickly and dump the remainder of the sugar into my shoes.
She turned around lazily and burst out laughing when she saw that, yes, the packet of sugar she had just thrown at me had indeed been OPEN.
Grumbling in pain as she stomped her feet in hysterics in the front seat, I brushed the dust onto the floorboard and tried not to smile.
Yeah......so my mother's not normal.
However, I've come to believe none of my family is. When you're a family with eight kids and you're homeschooled, well things aren't ever normal.
And the best part of living in a big household, is there's always every emotion going on. One person is crying, while the other is laughing. I'm mad, my mother's VERY happy. Having a family this huge is like the biggest contradiction.
It's also a know fact that accidents WILL happen. Like dumping a soda onto the brand new couch the minute it arrives or running into a wall with glass in your hands or slipping down the stairs because your dumb dogs left their stinking bone on them and you just happened to step on it.
Those things are just going to happen.
The key I believe, is to not try and prevent them, just develop stellar reflexes so you can look super ninja like when they happen. Though I have to admit, falling down the stairs today, I couldn't really look cool doing that.
I know this hasn't been the funniest of blog entries, but cut me a break, I've been out of it for awhile. I'm getting back into the rhythm now, especially since holidays are coming along and everything always goes wrong when it comes to the holidays. Like the time our thanksgiving turkey took till midnight to cook or when my parents forgot to get the groceries needed for our Christmas feast and had to run out right before the stores closed on Christmas Eve. Things are just always unexpected.
So EXPECT more blog entries from me.
And the quote for the entry definitely goes to my brother Paul, who I haven't actually mentioned that much.
We were driving home from church and I was remarking to my parents how my three little brothers wouldn't leave me alone anymore. Ever.
So I said, "I liked it more when my brothers hated me rather than loved me."
And of course Paul chimed in saying, "I still hate you Rachael!"
Thanks Pauly......thanks.
Instead I will focus on what I am doing. Which is nothing.
My dilemma you can see, is one hard to overcome.
Boredom is something often hard to shake, it seems, and I've found that the best cure to boredom is to voice it to everyone you know. Eventually any good natured person will grow so annoyed with your self pitying monologue, that they will personally remove all boredom from your life.
Like with sugar.
You know, most mothers are normal. They like shopping, talking about boys, and giggle over funny stories only girls giggle over. This seems to be the common "Mom" I encounter, so I often ask myself how I ended up with my Mom.
I've mentioned her in previous stories, but I think to fully understand my mother, I have to tell you a story that happened only a week ago, while we were waiting in the car outside of our local grocery store.
Mom and I weren't alone, the rest of my little siblings were all crammed in the car with us, making far too much noise for the claustrophobic interior to handle. We'd been arguing over something and it was about this time that I brought up my boredom with the week, my life, anything I could think of.
I was doing one of those annoying teen moves where I was adding a whine to my tone and saying, "I'm just SO bored. There's NOTHING to do. My life SUCKS." You know, stressing the words that you totally shouldn't stress in front of your parents.
I thought I'd hit a nerve and we could launch into a motivational conversation where my mother gave me all these great ideas about what I could do (Something, I might add, that has NEVER happened.) However, instead of remaining calm and collected, like most mothers do, mine picked up a magazine resting on the console and threw it at me, a nasty smirk on her face.
"Hey!" I cried, throwing up my arms to block the magazine. So instead she picked up a pencil and pelted me with that as I continued to cry out in alarm, "Hey! Stop!"
"Start the violins!" She retorted, laughing at my alarmed face.
I grabbed the leftover Burger King bag I'd been dying to throw at somebody and nailed her in the back of the head, right as she whirled around, armed with a napkin, which was frankly pretty pathetic since it just floated down in front of me and sank to the floor.
I laughed at her latest week attempt and geared up to toss one of my brother's Crocs at her, when out of nowhere I felt a shower of dust hit me like a hurricane and every muscle in my body froze.
She did NOT just go there.
Looking down I saw a thick film of pink powder covering me from head to toe, sparkling in the sunlight.
"MOTHER!" I shrieked, trying not to move too quickly and dump the remainder of the sugar into my shoes.
She turned around lazily and burst out laughing when she saw that, yes, the packet of sugar she had just thrown at me had indeed been OPEN.
Grumbling in pain as she stomped her feet in hysterics in the front seat, I brushed the dust onto the floorboard and tried not to smile.
Yeah......so my mother's not normal.
However, I've come to believe none of my family is. When you're a family with eight kids and you're homeschooled, well things aren't ever normal.
And the best part of living in a big household, is there's always every emotion going on. One person is crying, while the other is laughing. I'm mad, my mother's VERY happy. Having a family this huge is like the biggest contradiction.
It's also a know fact that accidents WILL happen. Like dumping a soda onto the brand new couch the minute it arrives or running into a wall with glass in your hands or slipping down the stairs because your dumb dogs left their stinking bone on them and you just happened to step on it.
Those things are just going to happen.
The key I believe, is to not try and prevent them, just develop stellar reflexes so you can look super ninja like when they happen. Though I have to admit, falling down the stairs today, I couldn't really look cool doing that.
I know this hasn't been the funniest of blog entries, but cut me a break, I've been out of it for awhile. I'm getting back into the rhythm now, especially since holidays are coming along and everything always goes wrong when it comes to the holidays. Like the time our thanksgiving turkey took till midnight to cook or when my parents forgot to get the groceries needed for our Christmas feast and had to run out right before the stores closed on Christmas Eve. Things are just always unexpected.
So EXPECT more blog entries from me.
And the quote for the entry definitely goes to my brother Paul, who I haven't actually mentioned that much.
We were driving home from church and I was remarking to my parents how my three little brothers wouldn't leave me alone anymore. Ever.
So I said, "I liked it more when my brothers hated me rather than loved me."
And of course Paul chimed in saying, "I still hate you Rachael!"
Saturday, August 20, 2011
What NOT to do if someone puts you in the sink
So, I know it's been awhile since my last entry and basically there's no excuse. I should've posted something during the months I was at camp, but I didn't. Why? Well, I'd been waiting for something funny to happen which when you think about it is quite ridiculous, I laughed more there than practically anywhere else. So why didn't I write?
Cause I'm lazy......
Now I'm going to tell you a little story about the Round-Up CIT's of 2011. I'll be honest, when I first met them, I didn't quite know what to think. I'd never been thrust into the midst of eight teenagers, all very sarcastic, before. I'm pretty sure the first couple days I was like a deer in the headlights. Freaked.
I guess I'll tell you their names at least, that way we don't get confused as this story progresses.
There's Ron, David, Gabe, Nic, Victoria, Liza, Hayley, Galen, Jeffrey, and now Tyler. I know what you're thinking, Rachael that's definitely NOT eight, and yes I know that. But Galen moved down to Sky Valley camp and Jeffrey went home after first session so technically there is eight, not including me.
I know what I'm saying, don't be alarmed.
So anyway, where my story takes place is in the dish room. See the CIT's (counselors-in-training) are in charge of doing the dishes every meal, which is great bonding time, even though it turns your fingers into raisins. Something to be aware of though is that water fights are prohibited at Round-Up because the food preparation area is so close to the dish room. However, this hardly stopped us in the beginning. We'd hose each other down or splash bubbles in secret, laughing all the while, even though it was bound to end badly.
One day, during stay-overs, Ron, Nic, and I were in the dish room washing dishes with Hayley and Galen and acting super sarcastic with each other, unaware of the impending doom approaching.
Now the dish room is split into two halves, pots and pans and dishes. Hayley and Ron were doing the pots and the rest of us were on dishes. It was a bright sunny morning and the day was suppose to evolve into an outing with all the CIT's. The cooks were almost done cleaning up breakfast and everything was going pleasantly as planned. Then........
This is the point in the story where scary music would suddenly come on.
So we were washing dishes pleasantly and suddenly it happened. A jet of water shot over the counter and nailed Galen in the chest. In horror we all froze and looked at Hayley, who was smiling and trying to hold back her laughter. In a fit of rage, Galen ran over to the pots side, picked Hayley up, and put her in the sanitiser sink. Unfortunately as she was being dumped in, she reached for the shelving that holds all the pots and pulled it over, making every pan that we owned fall to the ground.
The sound was like an avalanche tearing through the dish room.
Instantly, Ron, Nic, and I dropped everything we had, bolting for the door as we see Heather (the cook) walking over, arms crossed, holding a spoon. It was a terrifying sight. That's why I was glad to escape it.
We had many scary incidents at camp and in the dish room in particular. It was like a battle zone. You had to be constantly prepared for an attack at any instant.
Like when you walk into your cabin after a long night in the dish room, you don't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen. Then your camper comes flying out of nowhere, throws you against a wall, and begins drilling you on your life. And let me tell you, as the torrent of questions are launched at you and you sit there helplessly trying to fend off the really messy ones like, "Who's this boy I heard about?" There's really nothing you can do.
Except maybe sit on her and tickle her till she can't breathe and therefore, can't ask anymore questions, but who would do that? Ahem......Is it hot in here?
There were a couple moments this summer, where I was seriously concerned for the rest of mankind. Especially boy kind. I mean, we were releasing these girls BACK into the world. What had we done?
I'm mainly referring to the Ice Cream Incident of Bunkhouse Night 2nd Session. Nugget South was the culprit. We'd started off our cabin experience quite nice, gentle laughter, juicy stories, and all around fun. However, once we'd gone to the kitchen and they'd gotten Ice Cream in them...I swear...It was like a higher power took over. There was nothing my fellow counselor and I could do. Let me just say, that before the night was up they'd managed to smear Ice Cream all over their faces, my face, the other counselors face, and probably terrified the entire male species. At one point I vaguely remember leaping into a boy campers face with chocolate ice cream surrounding my lips and screaming, "WE'RE CRAZY!"
The poor boy, clearly flustered, could only say, "I believe you."
Sheesh, that night brings back memories.
As does all of camp, an incredible experience to the beholder. This summer I did things I'd never done before, like get thrown in the water trough, stalk a cross-dresser, chase down my boss and tie her to a chair using bandanas, eat chocolate cake at 3 AM, almost get squished by a semi-truck, and go to a Tea factory. The last one however......Let me tell you how awkward it was going with Tyler, standing there in a freaking BLUE hairnet, gagging in the peppermint room because I HATE mint, and being on a tour with only old women and babies. Two teenagers. Alone. Ugh.
Besides, I don't even like tea......
So anyway, I guess to talk more about camp would be overkill, but I just feel like its been so long since I've written I have to make up for it somehow. Of course, writing millions of stories about my campers will eventually bore you so I'll stop.
Remind me to tell you about the Tree and Horse Incident of 2nd Session sometime though....
Now I debated just what to put as my quote of the day, since there were so many good ones this summer, but I think the one that hands down made me laugh the most was one Tyler said.
Oh Tyler......If you knew him you'd understand why I'm laughing now just thinking about it.
Okay, on with it.
Hayley, Tyler and I were sitting at a table in a small cafe, talking about going riding the following morning. The conversation went like this:
Hayley- "So Rachael, you want to go riding tomorrow morning?"
Me-"I don't know, JT wanted to go riding and teach me something. We were going to go alone." (JT was my other boss)
Hayley-"Ooo...Alone..."
I rolled my eyes as Tyler leaned forward and said, "If you two kiss, Imma be pissed."
Another eye roll.
Hayley- "He has a girlfriend, Tyler."
Tyler points a finger at me and says, "And so does she."
He'd just called himself my girlfriend, instead of boyfriend. Hayley and I burst out laughing and couldn't stop. It was too funny. Tyler just sat there, a smirk on his face, like even HE couldn't believe he'd just said that.
It had to be one of the funniest things I heard at camp.
He'll probably be mad that I added that, but I don't care. Sorry Ty, it was just too good.
So anyway, this is Rachael, signing off, wishing everyone a very good night.
Oh, and if someone tries putting you in the sink......well, you know what NOT to do.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Screaming over spiders and stick shifts
Tonight my mom and I met with old family friends who we hadn't seen in ten years, and as we were circulating stories, I thought about a couple funny ones that all happened fairly recently.
Now everyone knows that driving a stick shift car isn't something that's entirely easy, especially if you haven't done it before, but how often do we actually talk about the process of learning to drive a manual.
Really? Think about it, we usually hide those stories, and for good reason. Believe me.
Like anyone who reaches the ripe old age of sixteen, I began to grow an interest in driving last year. Being the reckless person I was, my parents rightfully blocked me off from my license until I'm eighteen. Which means that yes, I still don't have it. (I think they also didn't want the insurance going up.)
However, I ended up learning to drive a manual because of the Horseplace. You see, out there we have a large, orange Kabota tractor that could easily take out a building if we wanted it to. So of course this is the first vehicle I learned to drive. A fellow volunteer, Ivan, taught me because no one else could reach the pedals.
After almost running over Taylor, flattening a fence, and taking out the hay barn because I forgot to set the emergency break and it started rolling down the hill, Ivan decided my tractor days were over. For awhile at least.
Nate however, thought differently. The minute he found out I could drive a stick shift, he belted me into his VW Bug and told me to let her rip. In terror I sat behind the wheel, my hands in a two-in-ten position, eyes fixed placidly on the road. I tried to push the clutch down and gently ease into the gas, nice and steady, but my foot wasn't obeying and I sent us lurching forward, right up till I planted both feet on the brake at the stop sign. We stopped then.
"Easy," Nate said, laughing nervously, probably regretting the whole idea just about then. "Now gently push the gas down and switch over to two."
So of course I stalled. In the middle of the main street. With traffic headed in my direction. Yeah.
"Okay," He laughed even more nervously. "Go now."
I tried getting it to move forward and it wasn't. "Rachael......Go!"
Shoving it into third, I floored the gas pedal and shot across the street, spinning the wheel to make a U-ey while still doing thirty.
"WHOA!" Nate screamed as I felt the back tires skidding behind us, his face now totally pale.
The minute I was realigned with my street, I shot back towards home, forgetting to down shift as I slowed to a stop in front of my house. I opened the door and slammed it, even as he was still trying to catch his breath. Then throwing the keys over at him, I said, "I'm never doing that again."
A smile broke out on his face. "You almost killed us."
I rolled my eyes. "Did not."
"Oh my God, that was crazy! Hey Mom! Dad!"
So yes, I guess my parents had very good reasons to keep me as far away from a drivers license as humanly possible. Though I am a little better now. I don't hit the gas quite so hard anymore.
Aren't screams just the best though? Especially since they always sound different and never like you'd expect. Boys sound like girls and girls like boys a lot. Sometimes they're out of sheer terror, others just to get attention. Screaming is definitely something to avoid doing if you are: 1. In a echoey room. (The ricochet is ear piercing.) 2. In front of a "respectable" group of people (You will never see so many stern faces in your life.) and 3. If you're trying to get people to quite down. (You're just adding to the noise.)
However, my counselor Ryan proved to me that screaming can not only be necessary in some cases, but crucial for survival in others. It can also make a strenuous backpacking trip a lot funnier.
Ryan, Sara, Heather, and I were hiking in the Rocky Mountains, on our decent from the last mountain we'd peaked, when we came across a waterfall caused by glacier run off. It was pretty big and so beautiful that we sat down to take pictures and my two counselors got the wonderful idea that they wanted to sit under it. Because of course, this is naturally your first inclination when its freezing cold, you have no change of clothes, and there's a waterfall made from ice in front of you.
So as Sara and I got our cameras ready to take pictures, they crawled out under the water and stood there, gasping and yelling from the cold, while we laughed.
However it wasn't until after this that the screaming comes into play. Sara and I had decided to hike ahead of the two and were around two hundred feet from the waterfall, when we heard the ear piercing, shrill scream. Followed by Heather screaming, "Snake!"
Sara and I froze, staring at one another, unsure of whether to run or go back and help. We didn't know what to do if one of our counselors was bit. Then we saw Heather calmly walking towards us, with a shaky Ryan behind her, and we couldn't understand it. Why the false alarm? Who'd screamed?
"Why'd you yell snake?" Sara asked when they caught up to us.
"Snake?" Heather said. "I said wait."
"OH..."
"Then why the scream?" I looked at Ryan when I asked this and got the feeling he was spooked over something. Heather started laughing.
"That was Ryan."
"Why'd you scream?" I asked him. Ryan looked down at his feet with an ashamed smile and said, "'Cause I fell through a spider web when I was climbing down the boulders."
Looking at one another, Sara and I burst out laughing. "So?"
"SO?" Ryan was obviously distressed. "SO, I couldn't find the spider afterwards!"
And that just about sent us over the edge and into hysteric land. There was no coming back. We were laughing the entire rest of the trail until we reached camp and even then, I kept picturing Ryan's scream in my head and it just made me giggle more.
There were many funny stories with that group, but this simple one is one that I remember the most and laugh the hardest over. The scream, the spider, and the response were all perfect.
Today's quotes are from my Dad, since he says so many things I thought I should give him his own section. My dad and I are constantly at war with one another sarcastically and more than once have nearly destroyed the other. So in memory of all our best "debates", I quote:
"You're like the energizer bunny and I'm constantly looking for the off switch." - Dad
"You know, you should take up martial arts, because with a mouth likes yours you'll need to know how to defend yourself." - Dad
And last but not least:
Dad: "Well, thanks for hanging with me for three hours."
Me: "I was bored out of my brain."
Dad: "Me too, let's NOT do it again soon."
Thanks Dad, for making my arguments so much more fun to have.
And thank you, Ryan, for screaming over spiders that you couldn't find.
Now everyone knows that driving a stick shift car isn't something that's entirely easy, especially if you haven't done it before, but how often do we actually talk about the process of learning to drive a manual.
Really? Think about it, we usually hide those stories, and for good reason. Believe me.
Like anyone who reaches the ripe old age of sixteen, I began to grow an interest in driving last year. Being the reckless person I was, my parents rightfully blocked me off from my license until I'm eighteen. Which means that yes, I still don't have it. (I think they also didn't want the insurance going up.)
However, I ended up learning to drive a manual because of the Horseplace. You see, out there we have a large, orange Kabota tractor that could easily take out a building if we wanted it to. So of course this is the first vehicle I learned to drive. A fellow volunteer, Ivan, taught me because no one else could reach the pedals.
After almost running over Taylor, flattening a fence, and taking out the hay barn because I forgot to set the emergency break and it started rolling down the hill, Ivan decided my tractor days were over. For awhile at least.
Nate however, thought differently. The minute he found out I could drive a stick shift, he belted me into his VW Bug and told me to let her rip. In terror I sat behind the wheel, my hands in a two-in-ten position, eyes fixed placidly on the road. I tried to push the clutch down and gently ease into the gas, nice and steady, but my foot wasn't obeying and I sent us lurching forward, right up till I planted both feet on the brake at the stop sign. We stopped then.
"Easy," Nate said, laughing nervously, probably regretting the whole idea just about then. "Now gently push the gas down and switch over to two."
So of course I stalled. In the middle of the main street. With traffic headed in my direction. Yeah.
"Okay," He laughed even more nervously. "Go now."
I tried getting it to move forward and it wasn't. "Rachael......Go!"
Shoving it into third, I floored the gas pedal and shot across the street, spinning the wheel to make a U-ey while still doing thirty.
"WHOA!" Nate screamed as I felt the back tires skidding behind us, his face now totally pale.
The minute I was realigned with my street, I shot back towards home, forgetting to down shift as I slowed to a stop in front of my house. I opened the door and slammed it, even as he was still trying to catch his breath. Then throwing the keys over at him, I said, "I'm never doing that again."
A smile broke out on his face. "You almost killed us."
I rolled my eyes. "Did not."
"Oh my God, that was crazy! Hey Mom! Dad!"
So yes, I guess my parents had very good reasons to keep me as far away from a drivers license as humanly possible. Though I am a little better now. I don't hit the gas quite so hard anymore.
Aren't screams just the best though? Especially since they always sound different and never like you'd expect. Boys sound like girls and girls like boys a lot. Sometimes they're out of sheer terror, others just to get attention. Screaming is definitely something to avoid doing if you are: 1. In a echoey room. (The ricochet is ear piercing.) 2. In front of a "respectable" group of people (You will never see so many stern faces in your life.) and 3. If you're trying to get people to quite down. (You're just adding to the noise.)
However, my counselor Ryan proved to me that screaming can not only be necessary in some cases, but crucial for survival in others. It can also make a strenuous backpacking trip a lot funnier.
Ryan, Sara, Heather, and I were hiking in the Rocky Mountains, on our decent from the last mountain we'd peaked, when we came across a waterfall caused by glacier run off. It was pretty big and so beautiful that we sat down to take pictures and my two counselors got the wonderful idea that they wanted to sit under it. Because of course, this is naturally your first inclination when its freezing cold, you have no change of clothes, and there's a waterfall made from ice in front of you.
So as Sara and I got our cameras ready to take pictures, they crawled out under the water and stood there, gasping and yelling from the cold, while we laughed.
However it wasn't until after this that the screaming comes into play. Sara and I had decided to hike ahead of the two and were around two hundred feet from the waterfall, when we heard the ear piercing, shrill scream. Followed by Heather screaming, "Snake!"
Sara and I froze, staring at one another, unsure of whether to run or go back and help. We didn't know what to do if one of our counselors was bit. Then we saw Heather calmly walking towards us, with a shaky Ryan behind her, and we couldn't understand it. Why the false alarm? Who'd screamed?
"Why'd you yell snake?" Sara asked when they caught up to us.
"Snake?" Heather said. "I said wait."
"OH..."
"Then why the scream?" I looked at Ryan when I asked this and got the feeling he was spooked over something. Heather started laughing.
"That was Ryan."
"Why'd you scream?" I asked him. Ryan looked down at his feet with an ashamed smile and said, "'Cause I fell through a spider web when I was climbing down the boulders."
Looking at one another, Sara and I burst out laughing. "So?"
"SO?" Ryan was obviously distressed. "SO, I couldn't find the spider afterwards!"
And that just about sent us over the edge and into hysteric land. There was no coming back. We were laughing the entire rest of the trail until we reached camp and even then, I kept picturing Ryan's scream in my head and it just made me giggle more.
There were many funny stories with that group, but this simple one is one that I remember the most and laugh the hardest over. The scream, the spider, and the response were all perfect.
Today's quotes are from my Dad, since he says so many things I thought I should give him his own section. My dad and I are constantly at war with one another sarcastically and more than once have nearly destroyed the other. So in memory of all our best "debates", I quote:
"You're like the energizer bunny and I'm constantly looking for the off switch." - Dad
"You know, you should take up martial arts, because with a mouth likes yours you'll need to know how to defend yourself." - Dad
And last but not least:
Dad: "Well, thanks for hanging with me for three hours."
Me: "I was bored out of my brain."
Dad: "Me too, let's NOT do it again soon."
Thanks Dad, for making my arguments so much more fun to have.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Donkeys like dragging people
I don't think I've mentioned the therapeutic riding stable I volunteer at yet. Let's call it the Horseplace.
Funny thing about stables, at least ones that aren't run "professionally", things get very chaotic quite often. In fact, just about every time I go out there, something out of the ordinary happens. Well, maybe not out of the ordinary, since if it happens every time I go out there then it is ordinary......
Okay where was I? Oh yes, talking about chaos. You know, I think I use that word too often, maybe I should say 'turmoil' or 'havoc', or even go all out an say something like 'pandemonium'. A word that is way too long to belong in my vocabulary. But again, I think I'm straying off point.
Today I woke up at six in the morning to catch a ride to the Horseplace, even though when my alarm clock went off I seriously considered throwing it out my window or smashing it against the wall like people do in movies. The point was: I did NOT want to be awake. It was torture just rolling out of bed. Somehow, I managed to pull on a pair of jeans and my boots, chug down some cereal, and hastily brush my teeth in time to walk a block down the road to my friend's house. See, we carpool all the time, and it was one of those days where I was the one catching a ride with her.
After nearly falling asleep multiple times between the walk over, the car ride, and the rhythmic feeding of thousand pound animals, Taylor and I finally realized that we had forgotten the house key. The woman who runs the stable had gone out of state for a wedding and left us in charge, so naturally she gave us a key. Only Taylor had insisted on taking it home and the only other copy was with the hired hand, Steve McQueen. (That's a nickname so don't be alarmed.) So after much bellyaching and grumbling, I summoned the courage I needed to text Steve McQueen for help.
"Could you come by and bring the house key?"
"I thought you had one?" He answered.
"Taylor forgot it."
"......Yeah, I'll be there in 30 minutes."
So of course, we sat and did nothing until he arrived.
Now about this time, I bet you're beginning to wonder where the donkeys in the title come into play? Well that's the thing, it was later in the day that it all happened.
We were sitting in the kitchen, the three of us, Steve McQueen, Taylor, and I. My ride and Taylor's as well were on their way to pick us up, so after much arguing over the fact (and a water fight to settle it) it was decided that she and I were to be head wranglers. So gathering our battle gear, which was basically a rope to lasso them with and a bowl of food, we set off across the property to find the two donkeys that were loose and take them back to their pen.
Now there's something else you need to know about these two donkeys, Domingo and Sassy. One: They're both girls. Mamma and baby. So the trick is to capture Mamma donkey (Domingo) and baby (Sassy. Who's really not that small or baby like at all anymore.) will follow. Two: All donkeys are deceptive. They are smarter and stronger than they appear. Something I thought I knew but definitely had confirmed today.
And three: Well, our donkeys are just plain naughty.
So as Taylor and I approached the two of them, Sassy already heading over to the food bowl, I didn't think twice before lassoing Domingo because I'd done it before. I thought I knew them well enough to predict their every move.
Boy, was I wrong.
The second the rope slid around Domingo's neck, it's like something snapped inside her. She went berserk. And unfortunately the moment she did, I was turning around to make some snide comment at Steve McQueen who was acting as the spectator, and was completely unprepared. She took off and man, literally, took me for a ride.
I was dragged halfway across the property, tripping over everything she intentionally ran me into, and desperately trying to hold onto her.
"Hold on!" Taylor cried, running after me.
"Grab ahold of her!" Steve McQueen yelled, taking off after me too. "Wait...Don't let go!"
"Ah!" I screamed.
I was slammed into a stone wall and a railing, and when I finally felt myself flying forward into a face plant, I let go. Steve McQueen tried grabbing the lasso after I released it, but he was dragged a couple feet and then had to, in turn, let go or risk the same fate as me. We watched as Domingo and her faithful daughter, Sassy, turned into a trail of dust.
Doubling over in hysterics, Taylor and I gave up to the laughter that was racking every part of our body. There were two trails in the dirt from where my heels had been digging in, trying to stop the crazy donkey, and add that to the dismayed look on Steve McQueen's face and there was no stopping us. I couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard and Taylor didn't look in much better condition, while the whole time our stern faced, hired hand sat with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It was too funny not to smile.
Lucky for us, the donkeys got the message and we found them waiting by the door to their pen, after we'd gotten ourselves under control and walked back up to the barn. So I guess the whole ordeal had been for no reason.
You can't really top experiences like that though. I can only imagine the surprised look that had been plastered on my face as I was dragged around the ranch. It must've been quite the sight.
So there was my story for this entry, it's not old at all, it happened today. But I guess that's the great thing about life, you can always expect the best day you've ever had to be today. New opportunities rise with the sun.
Today, when my family went to lunch, Taylor came along and I think it's only right that she be the one I quote today. Forgive me if I get some of this wrong:
"Justin Bieber was born in Stratford, Ontario in Stratford General Hospital, in room 112, at exactly 11:56 a.m." (Hopefully I got that right.)
My mom: "That's creepy."
Taylor: "I know right? It's only because of my friends that I know that."
Me: "Just tell me one thing."
Taylor: "What?"
Me: "Was it a boy or a girl?"
To all you JBiebs lovers, my apologies. I couldn't help it.
However I had to give her credit for knowing all that, no matter how creepy it is, it takes effort. So Taylor, you are the star for this entry.
Along with Domingo, my new donkey nemesis.
Funny thing about stables, at least ones that aren't run "professionally", things get very chaotic quite often. In fact, just about every time I go out there, something out of the ordinary happens. Well, maybe not out of the ordinary, since if it happens every time I go out there then it is ordinary......
Okay where was I? Oh yes, talking about chaos. You know, I think I use that word too often, maybe I should say 'turmoil' or 'havoc', or even go all out an say something like 'pandemonium'. A word that is way too long to belong in my vocabulary. But again, I think I'm straying off point.
Today I woke up at six in the morning to catch a ride to the Horseplace, even though when my alarm clock went off I seriously considered throwing it out my window or smashing it against the wall like people do in movies. The point was: I did NOT want to be awake. It was torture just rolling out of bed. Somehow, I managed to pull on a pair of jeans and my boots, chug down some cereal, and hastily brush my teeth in time to walk a block down the road to my friend's house. See, we carpool all the time, and it was one of those days where I was the one catching a ride with her.
After nearly falling asleep multiple times between the walk over, the car ride, and the rhythmic feeding of thousand pound animals, Taylor and I finally realized that we had forgotten the house key. The woman who runs the stable had gone out of state for a wedding and left us in charge, so naturally she gave us a key. Only Taylor had insisted on taking it home and the only other copy was with the hired hand, Steve McQueen. (That's a nickname so don't be alarmed.) So after much bellyaching and grumbling, I summoned the courage I needed to text Steve McQueen for help.
"Could you come by and bring the house key?"
"I thought you had one?" He answered.
"Taylor forgot it."
"......Yeah, I'll be there in 30 minutes."
So of course, we sat and did nothing until he arrived.
Now about this time, I bet you're beginning to wonder where the donkeys in the title come into play? Well that's the thing, it was later in the day that it all happened.
We were sitting in the kitchen, the three of us, Steve McQueen, Taylor, and I. My ride and Taylor's as well were on their way to pick us up, so after much arguing over the fact (and a water fight to settle it) it was decided that she and I were to be head wranglers. So gathering our battle gear, which was basically a rope to lasso them with and a bowl of food, we set off across the property to find the two donkeys that were loose and take them back to their pen.
Now there's something else you need to know about these two donkeys, Domingo and Sassy. One: They're both girls. Mamma and baby. So the trick is to capture Mamma donkey (Domingo) and baby (Sassy. Who's really not that small or baby like at all anymore.) will follow. Two: All donkeys are deceptive. They are smarter and stronger than they appear. Something I thought I knew but definitely had confirmed today.
And three: Well, our donkeys are just plain naughty.
So as Taylor and I approached the two of them, Sassy already heading over to the food bowl, I didn't think twice before lassoing Domingo because I'd done it before. I thought I knew them well enough to predict their every move.
Boy, was I wrong.
The second the rope slid around Domingo's neck, it's like something snapped inside her. She went berserk. And unfortunately the moment she did, I was turning around to make some snide comment at Steve McQueen who was acting as the spectator, and was completely unprepared. She took off and man, literally, took me for a ride.
I was dragged halfway across the property, tripping over everything she intentionally ran me into, and desperately trying to hold onto her.
"Hold on!" Taylor cried, running after me.
"Grab ahold of her!" Steve McQueen yelled, taking off after me too. "Wait...Don't let go!"
"Ah!" I screamed.
I was slammed into a stone wall and a railing, and when I finally felt myself flying forward into a face plant, I let go. Steve McQueen tried grabbing the lasso after I released it, but he was dragged a couple feet and then had to, in turn, let go or risk the same fate as me. We watched as Domingo and her faithful daughter, Sassy, turned into a trail of dust.
Doubling over in hysterics, Taylor and I gave up to the laughter that was racking every part of our body. There were two trails in the dirt from where my heels had been digging in, trying to stop the crazy donkey, and add that to the dismayed look on Steve McQueen's face and there was no stopping us. I couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard and Taylor didn't look in much better condition, while the whole time our stern faced, hired hand sat with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It was too funny not to smile.
Lucky for us, the donkeys got the message and we found them waiting by the door to their pen, after we'd gotten ourselves under control and walked back up to the barn. So I guess the whole ordeal had been for no reason.
You can't really top experiences like that though. I can only imagine the surprised look that had been plastered on my face as I was dragged around the ranch. It must've been quite the sight.
So there was my story for this entry, it's not old at all, it happened today. But I guess that's the great thing about life, you can always expect the best day you've ever had to be today. New opportunities rise with the sun.
Today, when my family went to lunch, Taylor came along and I think it's only right that she be the one I quote today. Forgive me if I get some of this wrong:
"Justin Bieber was born in Stratford, Ontario in Stratford General Hospital, in room 112, at exactly 11:56 a.m." (Hopefully I got that right.)
My mom: "That's creepy."
Taylor: "I know right? It's only because of my friends that I know that."
Me: "Just tell me one thing."
Taylor: "What?"
Me: "Was it a boy or a girl?"
To all you JBiebs lovers, my apologies. I couldn't help it.
However I had to give her credit for knowing all that, no matter how creepy it is, it takes effort. So Taylor, you are the star for this entry.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Blowing up limbs and other important things
So tonight, my older brother, Nate, and his girlfriend Lena came over for dinner. Just like my normal family dinners, there was a lot of laughter and story telling. At one point Emma Lou was running around the table yelling, while Dad was nearly sawing through the table in an attempt to cut our ice cream cake, and Nate was telling a story that was making everyone break into hysterics. You can imagine how hard it is to concentrate on anything when activity like that is going on. You get so enraptured in the stories and laughing along with everybody that you forget to even think. You just are. Being there, at that moment.
At least, that's how they feel to me.
Now however, I'm going to take you back a couple years, when I was still in elementary school. In the middle of the Wisconsin farmland, surrounded by corn, in a small log cabin built on a hundred acres. This is my summer home. Sure, it's not the Hamptons, but it fits my families personality. The sun beaming on the golden field stretched out in front of the one room cabin, an icy river running right through our property, and wildlife everywhere. I have so many fond memories of this magical place, completely secluded from the rest of the world.
The one I'm going to tell you about though, is the Bottle Rocket story. (Yes, we've actually labeled these stories.) See my uncle has a problem with buying tons of fireworks every year we go up there. Even though he vacations there before us, he always leaves a bunch for us to set off, cause he's so awesome.
So Nate, Erin, Meghan, and I got a great idea to see how many bottle rockets we could set off at once.
We set them up where the road split into a V, making its overall shape a Y. Now the problem with our innocent idea was that the canister holding all the bottle rockets wasn't very wide, so when we crammed fifty of them in there, they didn't just poke up. They were at all angles.
I don't quite understand why my parents thought it would be okay to let us try it, but they did, and when we lit the fuse it was all in good fun.
Then of course, it exploded.
Naturally all of us hit the turf, but as I was lying there tucked in a ball, I got a bad feeling and immediately afterward a rocket exploded right next to my leg and burnt me. It didn't hurt but it scared me so bad that I got up and took off running, straight down the road, away from the cabin. And I swear, it felt just like a movie, with bullets whizzing past you as you ran and felt explosions at your feet. The feeling was identical as all fifty of those bottle rockets shot into the air and lit up the sky.
I also remember thinking that it was the coolest feeling I had ever felt.
So naturally we did it again and this time I got my siblings to run with me. They thought it felt awesome too, so we did it over and over again until we finally ran out of bottle rockets.
Crazy that no one stopped us sooner, I'm surprised we didn't light the field on fire. But I'm glad no one did, because that's one of my favorite memories from the Cabin, shooting off the bottle rockets.
Isn't it weird how some of your most memorable stories can be the most insignificant ones?
Like, in the long run, there is no grand purpose for setting off all those fireworks. It was just a lot of fun, and definitely good bonding time with the siblings. I also learned not to do that again, unless you're prepared for the consequences. Like getting your leg nearly blown off.
Unfortunately I don't see bottle rockets in my future anytime soon though. I'm almost positive the state of Wisconsin has permanently banned my family from setting them off. Ever.
So anyway, I've started gathering quotes from the people around me, because sometimes they say things that are way more funny and clever than celebrities. Like for instance:
"You've got a little bit of Spaghetti, all over your face." (There's the Spaghetti reference again)
And: "What's that movie called again? Justin Bieber: Just Say Never?" (My dad said that and he was not joking.)
So it'll be interesting to see what I come up with. I'll try and keep remembering them so I can put them in this blog too. After all, I talk so much about my family and the people around me, it's only right that they should get a direct quote in here somewhere.
Right now I'm sitting in Meghan's room, probably bothering her by being in here when it's so late, but she's reading a book called Something Borrowed, so I guess she's fine with it. For now.
Just like everyone in my family, it's hard to tell when she'll suddenly turn on you, teeth bared and claws out. In fact, she did that once when I scared her coming out of the bathroom. The hallway was dark, so I couldn't actually see how badly I had spooked her, but when I felt her nails clawing at my face, I knew I was in deep trouble. Meghan was always the terrorist in my family. The one who would tickle you till you puke or suffocate. So when her hands reached for my face, I ran for my bedroom, even as she football tackled me through the door. After that, all I remember is being dimly aware that she was sitting on me and Erin was looking up from her book and asking what had happened.
Luckily I came away from that night with only a couple new scars.
We get along though, so don't you worry.
And since we were talking about pranks, here's a hilarious compilation that I just had to add.
Scaring people is a lot of fun.............
At least, that's how they feel to me.
Now however, I'm going to take you back a couple years, when I was still in elementary school. In the middle of the Wisconsin farmland, surrounded by corn, in a small log cabin built on a hundred acres. This is my summer home. Sure, it's not the Hamptons, but it fits my families personality. The sun beaming on the golden field stretched out in front of the one room cabin, an icy river running right through our property, and wildlife everywhere. I have so many fond memories of this magical place, completely secluded from the rest of the world.
The one I'm going to tell you about though, is the Bottle Rocket story. (Yes, we've actually labeled these stories.) See my uncle has a problem with buying tons of fireworks every year we go up there. Even though he vacations there before us, he always leaves a bunch for us to set off, cause he's so awesome.
So Nate, Erin, Meghan, and I got a great idea to see how many bottle rockets we could set off at once.
We set them up where the road split into a V, making its overall shape a Y. Now the problem with our innocent idea was that the canister holding all the bottle rockets wasn't very wide, so when we crammed fifty of them in there, they didn't just poke up. They were at all angles.
I don't quite understand why my parents thought it would be okay to let us try it, but they did, and when we lit the fuse it was all in good fun.
Then of course, it exploded.
Naturally all of us hit the turf, but as I was lying there tucked in a ball, I got a bad feeling and immediately afterward a rocket exploded right next to my leg and burnt me. It didn't hurt but it scared me so bad that I got up and took off running, straight down the road, away from the cabin. And I swear, it felt just like a movie, with bullets whizzing past you as you ran and felt explosions at your feet. The feeling was identical as all fifty of those bottle rockets shot into the air and lit up the sky.
I also remember thinking that it was the coolest feeling I had ever felt.
So naturally we did it again and this time I got my siblings to run with me. They thought it felt awesome too, so we did it over and over again until we finally ran out of bottle rockets.
Crazy that no one stopped us sooner, I'm surprised we didn't light the field on fire. But I'm glad no one did, because that's one of my favorite memories from the Cabin, shooting off the bottle rockets.
Isn't it weird how some of your most memorable stories can be the most insignificant ones?
Like, in the long run, there is no grand purpose for setting off all those fireworks. It was just a lot of fun, and definitely good bonding time with the siblings. I also learned not to do that again, unless you're prepared for the consequences. Like getting your leg nearly blown off.
Unfortunately I don't see bottle rockets in my future anytime soon though. I'm almost positive the state of Wisconsin has permanently banned my family from setting them off. Ever.
So anyway, I've started gathering quotes from the people around me, because sometimes they say things that are way more funny and clever than celebrities. Like for instance:
"You've got a little bit of Spaghetti, all over your face." (There's the Spaghetti reference again)
And: "What's that movie called again? Justin Bieber: Just Say Never?" (My dad said that and he was not joking.)
So it'll be interesting to see what I come up with. I'll try and keep remembering them so I can put them in this blog too. After all, I talk so much about my family and the people around me, it's only right that they should get a direct quote in here somewhere.
Right now I'm sitting in Meghan's room, probably bothering her by being in here when it's so late, but she's reading a book called Something Borrowed, so I guess she's fine with it. For now.
Just like everyone in my family, it's hard to tell when she'll suddenly turn on you, teeth bared and claws out. In fact, she did that once when I scared her coming out of the bathroom. The hallway was dark, so I couldn't actually see how badly I had spooked her, but when I felt her nails clawing at my face, I knew I was in deep trouble. Meghan was always the terrorist in my family. The one who would tickle you till you puke or suffocate. So when her hands reached for my face, I ran for my bedroom, even as she football tackled me through the door. After that, all I remember is being dimly aware that she was sitting on me and Erin was looking up from her book and asking what had happened.
Luckily I came away from that night with only a couple new scars.
We get along though, so don't you worry.
And since we were talking about pranks, here's a hilarious compilation that I just had to add.
Scaring people is a lot of fun.............
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Eating It: The old fashioned way
What story should I tell today? You know I have to admit, this is already harder than I thought it would be. Writing a story from your life is definitely not as easy as you think it is, let alone doing it every single time you publish an entry, but it would be silly to give up now. So let me think......
Maybe I should tell you about Bitey Boy a.k.a. our dog Toby who we used to lure down the basement stairs with Oreos until he would sprint after us, jaws snapping for the cookies in our hands, and leap on the mattress we so subtly had scooted off the edge of the bed. I'm sure you can imagine that poor dog's face as his world flipped upside down, but I talk about dogs too much.
So maybe I should talk about going sledding on the huge snow hill during the winter time, zipping down the small slope only to straighten out and then drop furiously again until we had reached the end of the run. Nate always waiting at the end to ram us with his own tube. But again, I'm mentioning Nate. Got to think of someone else.
How about the fort Erin and I built in the basement? That's interesting, though we didn't really build it, it was already there.
For some reason my parents had this section of wall where a bunch of mattresses were stacked on their sides in a row. There was at least six of them, nestled in that far corner of the basement, hidden away from everything else. Not long after we moved there, Erin and I discovered this wonderful hideaway.
By pushing our backs against one mattress and planting both feet on the other one, we figured out a way to walk up them so that we could sit on the tops, hidden from everyone else's view. Now at the time, we didn't realize that by sitting on them we were slowly breaking the box frame, so it was all innocent fun. We went up there to make Christmas presents for people, tell secrets, plan pranks, and vent about getting in trouble since we always did. It was the perfect hideaway and it was all ours.
Until my parents threw out the old mattresses.
But I think the main point of these ideas is that they all happened in the same place, the Kansas House, which we call our old home. We lived there for only nine months, but they were fun and adventurous. My mother grew up in the same house and when my grandparents could no longer take care of it, we all packed up and moved there to save the family home. It was a great old house, wood floors and a big stone fireplace. It had that mothball, homey smell to it that reminds you of all your best memories. It was warm in winter and cool in summer, and looked out on seven beautiful acres. Unfortunately it was Kansas and none of us could deny that we were Texas people deep down.
So we upped and moved back to the exact same house we'd lived in before. And seeing the neighbors faces when we showed up again almost made paying two mortgages worth it. I'm a big fan of the slack jawed, big eyed look. It's so entertaining.
So in the end, I was still a Texas girl (despite the fact that I was born in the north) and it shone through. Who cares where I was born though right? The point was that I got here (to Texas) as fast as I could. (Took that right off a bumper sticker hanging in my room)
I realize that this entry isn't exactly the thigh-slapper, but maybe it's okay to occasionally calm down on the humor.
And of course, I can always mention the one time when the whole "Bitey Boy" thing didn't exactly go quite as planned. We did the whole standard Oreo lure, but for some reason Toby was exceptionally eager. So of course, he took off way too early and made our plan go completely askew.
What I remember is Meghan and Erin flying past me in a blur, screaming at the top of their lungs, while Nate practically shoved me over he was fleeing the scene so quickly and Toby was right behind him, jaws snapping and eyes wildly crazy. I also remember thinking, as my three older siblings slowly grew smaller as they sprinted down the hall, that I was going to die. So as a last effort to save myself, I jumped onto the pool table, just as I felt Toby zoom past me, his fur brushing my feet.
It had been way too close and of course, I loved every second of it. But the best part to me was watching Nate wipe out on the floor carpet, since he'd hit it running and naturally it slid out from under him. THAT is the part I remember the most, probably because someone else had fallen victim to Bitey Boy instead of me.
Besides, it's always WAY funnier when someone else eats it.
Maybe I should tell you about Bitey Boy a.k.a. our dog Toby who we used to lure down the basement stairs with Oreos until he would sprint after us, jaws snapping for the cookies in our hands, and leap on the mattress we so subtly had scooted off the edge of the bed. I'm sure you can imagine that poor dog's face as his world flipped upside down, but I talk about dogs too much.
So maybe I should talk about going sledding on the huge snow hill during the winter time, zipping down the small slope only to straighten out and then drop furiously again until we had reached the end of the run. Nate always waiting at the end to ram us with his own tube. But again, I'm mentioning Nate. Got to think of someone else.
How about the fort Erin and I built in the basement? That's interesting, though we didn't really build it, it was already there.
For some reason my parents had this section of wall where a bunch of mattresses were stacked on their sides in a row. There was at least six of them, nestled in that far corner of the basement, hidden away from everything else. Not long after we moved there, Erin and I discovered this wonderful hideaway.
By pushing our backs against one mattress and planting both feet on the other one, we figured out a way to walk up them so that we could sit on the tops, hidden from everyone else's view. Now at the time, we didn't realize that by sitting on them we were slowly breaking the box frame, so it was all innocent fun. We went up there to make Christmas presents for people, tell secrets, plan pranks, and vent about getting in trouble since we always did. It was the perfect hideaway and it was all ours.
Until my parents threw out the old mattresses.
But I think the main point of these ideas is that they all happened in the same place, the Kansas House, which we call our old home. We lived there for only nine months, but they were fun and adventurous. My mother grew up in the same house and when my grandparents could no longer take care of it, we all packed up and moved there to save the family home. It was a great old house, wood floors and a big stone fireplace. It had that mothball, homey smell to it that reminds you of all your best memories. It was warm in winter and cool in summer, and looked out on seven beautiful acres. Unfortunately it was Kansas and none of us could deny that we were Texas people deep down.
So we upped and moved back to the exact same house we'd lived in before. And seeing the neighbors faces when we showed up again almost made paying two mortgages worth it. I'm a big fan of the slack jawed, big eyed look. It's so entertaining.
So in the end, I was still a Texas girl (despite the fact that I was born in the north) and it shone through. Who cares where I was born though right? The point was that I got here (to Texas) as fast as I could. (Took that right off a bumper sticker hanging in my room)
I realize that this entry isn't exactly the thigh-slapper, but maybe it's okay to occasionally calm down on the humor.
And of course, I can always mention the one time when the whole "Bitey Boy" thing didn't exactly go quite as planned. We did the whole standard Oreo lure, but for some reason Toby was exceptionally eager. So of course, he took off way too early and made our plan go completely askew.
What I remember is Meghan and Erin flying past me in a blur, screaming at the top of their lungs, while Nate practically shoved me over he was fleeing the scene so quickly and Toby was right behind him, jaws snapping and eyes wildly crazy. I also remember thinking, as my three older siblings slowly grew smaller as they sprinted down the hall, that I was going to die. So as a last effort to save myself, I jumped onto the pool table, just as I felt Toby zoom past me, his fur brushing my feet.
It had been way too close and of course, I loved every second of it. But the best part to me was watching Nate wipe out on the floor carpet, since he'd hit it running and naturally it slid out from under him. THAT is the part I remember the most, probably because someone else had fallen victim to Bitey Boy instead of me.
Besides, it's always WAY funnier when someone else eats it.
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