Rachel Callahan

Brave, Brave Sir Chris

July 17, 2009 Rachel Callahan Storytime, The Blissfulness of Life

Today is Chris’ Birthday!! But instead of subjecting you to an ooey gooey Birthday post (I’ll save that for the card), I’m going to tell you a story.

Because, you see, not only is this his 33rd birthday, but it is also the 10th anniversary of when we started dating.

And the fact that we started dating is, in fact, an ode to my dear husband’s bravery.

Let’s start in February of 1999. I was 17 years old, and a senior in High School. I had never been on a single date. I met Chris on a Wednesday night, after one of the guys on the Church praise team (on which I played guitar) invited me to this “thing”.

This “thing” was somewhat akin to a Christian “jam band”, for lack of a better explanation. They met at our Church on Wednesday nights after all of the rest of the activities were over, which meant it started sometime around 9pm, and usually ended after midnight.

(However, being that I was 17, I was never allowed to stay out until it ended.)

So anyway, I walk into the little house that the band (later named freeforall) met in. There were four people there – the guy who invited me, two other people who I already knew, and one person that I’d never met before – Chris.

Chris was 22, in his fifth year of college, working full-time, living on his own, and QUITE the adult, or at least compared to my High School self.

I immediately fell in love with the band, and quickly became a part of the group, playing classical guitar and singing. (Chris played guitar, keyboard, wrote some AMAZING songs, and sang.) We started doing youth events and playing in Churches. Chris and I got to know each other in this band-setting, then started talking on the phone, then hanging out, and becoming better and better friends until we would have unequivocally referred to each other as our best friend.

(While everyone else in our lives were raising their eyebrows and saying “Yeah RIGHT you’re just friends!”)

I was not interested in anything more than friendship at the time – I had decided several years before that I wouldn’t date anyone until I met the man I was going to marry. I’ve always been the overly practical sort, and just saw no point in repeatedly getting my heart broken. So I had promised God that if He would make it clear when it was time, then I wouldn’t date anyone until I met my husband.

Sometime between February and July, I remember someone trying to set me up with a single guy at work. I immediately responded “No thanks –“, and then caught myself before I blurted out, ” — I already know who I’m going to marry.”

I was shocked. I had never consciously had that thought before that moment, but from then on, I recognized it (only to myself) as the truth – I was going to marry Chris.

I still, very oddly, wasn’t in a hurry to start dating. Looking back, I’m really not sure why – the only thing I can surmise is that we just had such a great friendship and had so much fun together, that I was, for the time being, quite happy with that.

However, due to several different events (one of which was another guy showing interest in me and therefore creating an urgency in Chris’ mind that helped him get over the “I’m a horrible, dirty old man for liking a SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD” feeling), we ended up having the “DTR talk” (“Define the Relationship Talk”) right before Chris left to go to the beach for his birthday.

At the time, for whatever reason, I was saying that we needed to back up and get back to our friendship. Or at least define what in the world we were. At any rate, I left the conversation thinking that we were going to back off a bit.

However, Chris left the conversation, and for the beach, with a five subject notebook. In which he apparently used to completely and totally pray through and analyze our relationship and pro/con the potentiality of marrying me.

(I have never seen nor read this in-depth study of my marriage potential – wanna come over and help me dig around in the basement for it?)

And, after coming to a decisive conclusion on Saturday (his birthday), he left the beach in the middle of the night and drove straight to our Church, in order to catch my Dad right after Church was out.

He had a talk with my Dad in the parking lot, and his basic request was, “May I date your daughter with the intention of marrying her?”

Wow.

Now, my (Ex-Cop) Dad was not exactly Mister-Touchy-Feely with guys interested in his only daughter.

QUITE the opposite.

He was more of the cleaning-the-pistol-and-telling-them-that-he-had-70-acres-on-which-to-hide-their-dead-body (and totally serious about it, too) type.

And, if you tack on the fact that I was 17 and Chris just turned 23, this conversation took real guts. And decisiveness.

(Which, I suppose, is why it took four days and a five subject notebook to ensure that this was, indeed, the course he wanted to take.)

My Dad told Chris that he’d get back to him. Then, that night, Dad wisely had my Mom ask me if I wanted to date Chris, and if I didn’t, then he would tell him no and keep me from having to do it.

As shocked as I was of the timing of this request, I knew without a doubt that he was the man I wanted to marry, so I readily agreed. And, quite shockingly, so did my Dad.

A year and a couple of months later (when we were 18 and 24 years old), it was time for Chris to come back to my Dad to ask another question. This time, it was if he could marry me. Knowing my Dad’s favorite answer to any question was “Do you want my answer right now?” (meaning, of course, that if you DID want an answer right now, the answer was “no”), he chose to send my Dad a very detailed, well thought out, and eloquent letter.

And then, silence.

TWO WEEKS of silence.

Dad didn’t even ACKNOWLEDGE that he got the letter.

Finally, after two weeks, Chris called to talk to me, and before Mom went and got me, she whispered to Chris, “I just want you to know that Vic got your letter. He just takes these sort of things very seriously, and is still praying and thinking about it.”

I don’t know if Mom was worried about Chris giving up, or felt sorry for him, or was concerned for his sanity, but it was quite the nice gesture.

A few days later at Sunday Lunch, Dad pulled Chris out onto the porch (somehow I was quite oblivious to all of this), and they apparently had quite the talk. Amazingly, the talk ended with another “yes” from my Dad.

A “yes” that my Dad had agonized and prayed about until he KNEW that it was the right decision (which, by the way, I cannot BEGIN to tell you how much I appreciate my Dad taking my future so seriously as his responsibility – I highly recommend this approach to ALL dads).

And so, for all of Chris’ bravery and determination in winning my hand in marriage, and in honor of our musically based relational origins, I present to you a song.

No, I didn’t really write it. It’s actually a Monty Python song – I just modified it slightly for my brave, brave husband’s sake. Hopefully you know the song and can hum along in your head. . .

Brave, Brave Sir Chris

Bravely bold Sir Chris rode forth from the Beach.
He was not afraid to die, O brave Sir Chris
He was not at all afraid to be told no in nasty ways
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Chris

He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp
Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken
To have his kneecaps split and his body burned away
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Chris

His head smashed in and his heart cut out
And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged
And his nostrils ripped and his bottom burnt off

Brave Sir Chris said what he had to say
Bravely asked to take me away
When silence reared its ugly head
He bravely waited two weeks in dread
Yes, brave Sir Chris stood stout
And gallantly didn’t chicken out
Bravely taking my Dad’s heat
He didn’t for a second retreat
Bravest of the brave, Sir Chris!

Happy Birthday, Babe!

Zoës Kitchen Giveaway!!!

July 16, 2009 Rachel Callahan Giveaways and Contests

Zoës Kitchen is by FAR one of the best restaurants in Alabama – I can honestly say that it is my absolute favorite! I eat there nearly every week – and sometimes twice a week!! I can admit it – I’m a Zoës addict.

And, I’m no easy person to please, either. My family is VERY Greek, so I grew up eating some of the best homemade Greek cooking around. Zoës’ Greek flair is so perfect – it’s light (for those not completely sold into the whole Greek thing) but very, VERY well done and deliciously flavorful. It’s the perfect touch of Greek, married to amazing Southern cooking (like their TO DIE FOR Chicken Salad – I’m a Chicken Salad connoisseur, and Zoës far and away beats them all!!).

So, needless to say, when I got an email from Zoës asking if I would be interested in hosting a giveaway for them, I couldn’t say yes fast enough!!!

They have GREAT family meal options, and they would like to save you the hassle of cooking this summer, and let you have dinner on them!!! (We often buy these meals for our friends who just had babies – they are great as gifts, or to take home for your family on a day when you just don’t have time to cook.)

This giveaway is for a gift card for one Zoës Dinner for Four – a $26.95 value. Your options for this dinner are:

Chicken Kabob Dinner – includes 8 Chicken Kabobs, Rice Pilaf, Greek Salad, and Pita Bread.
Baked Chicken Dinner – includes a whole Chicken, Rice Pilaf, Greek Salad, and Roasted Vegetables (Call 90 minutes ahead to ensure availability).
Greek Chicken Marinara Dinner – includes 4 Chicken Breasts, Greek Salad, and Pita Bread.

All of these meals are fantastic! This gift card is good at any Zoës Location, which includes 5 locations in Birmingham, and one each in Tuscaloosa, Montgomery, Mobile, Atlanta, and several others out of state (click above for all of the locations).

To enter to win, simply comment on this post. You may earn extra entries by:

Follow Zoës Kitchen on Twitter
Become a friend with Zoës Kitchen on Facebook
Tweet about this giveaway!
Subscribing to or Following this blog

Be sure to leave an extra comment for each extra entry!

This contest is open until Monday, July 27th, and a winner will be randomly chosen and announced on Tuesday, July 28th. Best of luck!!

An Older Cousin’s Job is to Help Teach.

July 15, 2009 Rachel Callahan Wordless Wednesday - as IF I could be wordless.

Eli came over, and so, of course, had to have his first training in jumping on the trampoline.

Only problem was, Ali.

Every time he’d get the momentum to stand up,

She would completely wipe him out with her own, much greater, momentum.

And then, completely obliviously look at him with puzzlement.

But, luckily, Eli enjoyed the ride – both up AND down.

Ali, however, put on her ruby slippers and left him in her trampoline dust.

Check out My other Wordless Wednesday – Trampoline Encore – at B-Sides.

Check out everyone else’s Wordless Wednesday at 5 Minutes for Mom.

My Daughter Thinks the Toilet is a Pommel Horse.

July 14, 2009 Rachel Callahan Toddlers: The Experience, Utter Silliness

All of these moves – she’s got down pat.

Actually producing and leaving anything at all in the toilet – (even by accident due to the straining that it takes to produce the above tricks) – she has no concept.

I’m open to suggestions on how to take my Olympic Hopeful to Big Girl Panties Hopeful.

Because You Care. Just a Little TOO Much.

July 13, 2009 Rachel Callahan Rachel's "Brilliant" Marketing Ideas, Utter Silliness

On our long date Saturday of having all the time in the world to talk and laugh, Chris and I came up with something that is very “needed” in today’s market.

You know those overly nosy/probing/into-everyone’s-personal-lives people? They might be at work, at church, a friend, or even a family member. They are the ones that come up to anyone, in front of as many people as possible, and loudly ask them intrusive questions about their private business. You know the ones.

You know how uncomfortable you feel when you witness one of these intrusions, or, worse yet, are the TARGET of such encroachment?

Well, it would be so much nicer if those oh-so-rude-people could just send people cards, rather than feeling the need to air everyone’s dirty laundry and make all within ear shot as uncomfortable as if they were wearing a pair of leather pants five sizes too small, don’t you think?

So Chris and I have decided that there is a need for:

TMI Greeting Cards
“Because you Care. Just a little TOO Much.”

Here are our first line of cards:

Card A:

Outside:

Inside:

Card B:

Outside:

Inside:

Card C:

Outside:

Inside:

Card D:

Outside:

Inside:

Card E:

Outside:

Inside:

Card F:

Outside:

Inside:

Card G:

Outside:

Inside:

Card H:

Outside:

Inside:

Ahem. Yes, these cards should lessen the awkwardness quite nicely, don’t you think?

What do Bloggers, Models, Cowboys and Indians Have in Common? This Post.

July 12, 2009 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Utter Silliness, Weird Strange and True

Yesterday, Ali and I attended/hosted our second Alabama Blogger meet-up:

We had an awesome time visiting with everyone, and Ali had a BLAST playing with and talking to everyone (especially Gina, Lianne, Amy, and Valerie). In fact, she was perfectly happy, until we left:

No, it wasn’t because the meet-up was over. . . it was because her precious, hand-picked, beloved, purple balloon (that she had received excitedly and lovingly mere seconds before) ended up like this: Yes, it was her first balloon-popping experience.

She went ballistic.

I’m pretty sure that 36% of her cry was from being scared out of her wits, 48% was from confusion (she kept saying over and over, “Where did it GO??? Where did the purple balloon GO???”, despite my efforts to show her it’s remains), and 16% was over the loss of her balloon.

Knowing how she tends to deeply root aversions to things that scare her (NOT because I’m a doting Mom – I swear!!), I encouraged her to go back inside and get another balloon. I was actually surprised that she WANTED to do that, and so we left with this, much-more-secondary-in-choice-but-appeasing-nonetheless yellow balloon:

When Daddy got home, we went to the park for a bit of playtime. We walked up and immediately knew that it was going to be an interesting visit when we saw this:

AAAAAND this:

Yes. Some girl in a very 80’s prom-dress-esque get-up was out, with a professional-esque photographer, shooting model shots on the PLAYGROUND.

(You see, today was America’s Next Top Model auditions here in Birmingham, and apparently she didn’t plan ahead too well, so was preparing her last-minute portfolio.)

And – whose bright idea was it to do sexy modeling shots on a PLAYGROUND? It was a bit too Michael-Jackson-freaky for me.

(I know, I know, now that he’s dead, it’s off limits to make fun of him. But I’m having trouble grasping the reasoning behind that – how exactly someone goes from being the butt of every joke to a hero simply by dying – seems a bit odd. So leave nasty comments if you must, but if you could, just pretend you read that in the context of a month ago and you won’t even bat an eyelash.)

But I must say that it was quite amusing to watch her precariously pose for very inappropriate playground poses:

(Notice the random Dad’s arm in that one – he was trying very hard to look like he was playing with his kids and completely oblivious to the oddity occurring mere feet from him:)

(I really hope that his skinny, bony arm shows up in her “portfolio”.)

She even sat with the same, um, “class and poise”, when reviewing her photos:

Yes, I’m sure she’ll go far on America’s Next Top Model. Except that she didn’t get the memo that you must be completely emaciated to even audition. I mean look: you could actually see CALF CURVATURE as she walked away!!!

Yes ma’am, I’m sorry, but with those calves. . . .

Anyway, Ali was inspired by pink-prom-dress’ amazing, err…talent for posing, so did a bit of modeling herself:

However, her modeling days quickly ended when she broke the #1 rule of being a supermodelThat’s right. She . . . . (gasp). . . . smiled.

You must look COMPLETELY and UTTERLY miserable if you want to be a supermodel.

Fast forward to today: Even though Mom doesn’t get off of her crutches/walker until Monday, she wanted Ali to come spend the day and night.

We very fervently tried to get her to consider her needs (or maybe we just said a half-hearted “are you SURE?”), but she assured us that she missed Ali very much, so Chris and I very happily had an all day date.

Naturally, of course, we had to make a stop in at the mall to check out the auditions:

(You know, to see if we could spot our new park friend.)

There was QUITE the collection of Freakishly Tall-and-Emaciated-Ladies:

And a few Not-Quite-as-Tall-or-Emaciated but QUITE jealous passersby:

Yeah. That glare could have easily knocked over that 75 pound body had the information kiosk not been there to hold her up.

Notice the model hopeful was on the phone. Besides the audition tent, there were FTaEL’s ALL over the mall – and ALL on the phone. Most were crying. Most looked upset. Most were seeking consolation. We saw only one FTaEL was happily talking on the phone – and I assure you that it wasn’t our friend from the park.

We filled the day with further fun – a brisk walk/jog to work up our appetites, an aMAZing dinner at The Bright Star, a movie, and then topped off to perfection with Dessert from Chez Lu Lu.

We’re all about making our dates count, you know. If we’re going to allow a crip watch our kid, we better enjoy ourselves!

Anyway, since we were close to some of the awesome overlooks of the city, Chris drove us up to a super-swanky road in Mountain Brook to enjoy this view:

The street was crowded with cars in front of the multi-million dollar mansions.

So of course we were excited – “ooh – a party!! I bet it’s a swanky one!!”

Then we saw the guests leaving. . . in very cheesy, first-grade-craft-project-looking Cowboys and Indians Costumes.

. . . and. . . it didn’t look like there were any Indian PRINCESSES invited, if you catch my drift.

Swankiness these days. It’s just not what it used to be.

Coloring With a Toddler is Like Speed Dating.

July 10, 2009 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Toddlers: The Experience

I don’t know what it is about toddlers, but they just do NOT understand an ~~overly obsessive-compulsive~~ adult’s need to FINISH coloring a picture before moving on.

I need closure. I need my picture to come to fruition and fulfillment of it’s potential. I need to look back and say, “Well done, good and artistic Rachel.”

What I DON’T need is to be forced to quit one picture and move onto the next before I’m finished. I want relationship with my pictures!

It wasn’t too bad at first. She would stay entertained long enough for me to at least finish all of the characters in my picture:

And although I would look back with longing at the unfinished background as she hurriedly flipped the page, I could feel okay about it. At least looked like I MEANT to do it that way.

But then it got worse. She started to “emulate” my coloring. Meaning that she would color inside the lines, and in each area.

However, her idea of coloring an area was one squiggle of color. So she would completely “finish” her picture, and therefore be ready to move on, WAY before I would be.

AND, if I tried to stall, she would just begin to “help” me with my picture, which, although I would never let it show to her, would somewhat deflate my coloring perfection balloon anyway, and then I’d WANT to move on with her.

Then it got worse. She gave up the idea of coloring a squiggle in every area and just began to widely scrawl across the whole page and declare it done. I didn’t even get to finish ONE character anymore:

She would only grant me extra time with a picture if I used a lot of PINK, her favorite color. But all mercies, of course, ended before the picture was complete.

This next one reminds me of my Christmas stocking growing up. It was a cross stitch template stocking that Mom never finished stitching, so it had spots of color stitching intermixed with black outline where color was supposed to go:

(Ah yes, the troubles of a middle child. My stocking is now well over 20 years old and, you guessed it, still not finished.)

These frequent artistic interruptions made me feel so incomplete, unthorough, and thoroughly un-therapized by my coloring.

So then I started to try and amuse myself right before the page turned, but drawing a mustache or something:

But, although it made me smile, it didn’t fill that emptiness that lived inside of me.

Finally, the crest of my creativity frustration came when I got about two inches of outline colored before I was told it was time to move on:

So I decided to revolt. I picked a page, and insisted that we stay on it until I was finished.

Of course, she quickly bored of the coloring activity and moved on to play other things.

But that was fine with me.

I moved on to the living room with her, coloring book (and box of crayons) in hand.

I worked on my picture, and worked on it some more. Chris came home from work. I looked up, gave him a kiss, and went back to my picture.

And finally, the masterpiece was finished:

(I was especially pleased with the midnight black behind the curtain. It takes a lot of work to get crayons to color that dark.)

And I felt so good. So completed. So peaceful. Nay, euphoric even.

So I did it again a few days later:
Then again.

And again:

And you know what? This therapy has helped me so much, that I don’t even accidentally break all of my crayons anymore.

I guess that was a subconscious outpouring of my now-dealt-with need for coloring closure.

Ali, on the other hand, may be getting to the brink of frustration with my dogged commitment to my coloring completion. Hopefully from this, she’ll learn that relationships are much better when they last a lifetime, instead of a speed dating frenzy.

Or, maybe she’ll just come to realize that her Mom is a complete and total obsessive-compulsive dork.

Someone Please Add Some Extra Value to Extra Value Cards.

July 9, 2009 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Rachel's "Brilliant" Marketing Ideas, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

I am a Savingsaholic.

I love coupons, discounts, saving up points to get special rewards, watching the sale papers, all of it.

(Except grocery store coupons. I learned that I buy more products that I don’t normally use and forget to use the coupons for the products I DO use at the grocery store, thereby creating a net loss.)

You can especially get my attention if you package a coupon like a gift card.

Why is it that a “gift card” that says “$10 free!!….with a purchase of $20″ looks SOOO much more valuable than a paper coupon that says “50% off a purchase of $20 or more”?

AND why is it that “Buy one get one 50% off” sale looks SOOO much more attractive than “25% off when you buy two”, which is the same exact same savings?

But enough about fancy marketing and creative appeal to us bargain hunters. That’s not my soapbox for today.

What is it, you ask?

Rewards Cards. Or Extra Value Cards. Or Perks Cards. Or Special Value cards. Or whatever-the-heck you want to call them.

I can’t turn them down – they offer savings!! And perks!!! And special sales!!! And points!!! And Coupons mailed to my door!!!

And so, I have this in my wallet:

I counted.

Sixteen.

No wonder my wallet doesn’t snap.

So here’s my idea: Some entrepreneur out there, please read this post and shamelessly steal my idea. Don’t bother giving me credit or royalties or anything. I would gladly just accept the product itself as payment.

(Unless you insist, in which case I’ll take a 60% cut.)

Please, oh please oh please oh please, invent a universal rewards card. Everyone can get one at any participating store – it’s registered in their name and has a barcodey thingy. Then, go sell the software and rights to all stores that have this sort of program to load up THEIR rewards program onto said universal card.

Then, I would just have to dig for ONE card in my wallet when the 16-year-old-cashier asks for my rewards card in an impatient-yet-bored tone.

My wallet would actually snap together!!!

I would never have to fill out another rewards card application, because they could swipe my card and have my address and name in their system.

My wallet would actually snap together!!!

Less plastic cards would have to be created, so it would cost the companies less.

My wallet would actually snap together!!!

All of the environmentalists would be thrilled with less plastic being created, wasted, and lugged around in the bottom of a crowded purse.

And oh yeah, did I mention that my wallet would snap together??

I wish I could give these up, but I just can’t. I can’t pass up a good bargain, even if it makes my wallet not snap together.

So can someone turn these sixteen cards into one, please?

Trampolinic Philosophy

July 8, 2009 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Utter Silliness

We are enjoying our new trampoline immensely, thankyouforasking.

And besides one slight moment of OhCrapMyDadWasRight Panic when I mysteriously got a pulled muscle in my back that lasted for a couple of days, no one has gotten injured on it.

The placement of our trampoline is under the big tree in our backyard for shade, which has it’s pro and cons.

Pro: well, that would be the shade.

Cons:
Obviously, there is leaf fallage. And prickly fallage (What are pricklies? They are also known as gumdrops, but I’m not quite sure why as they are not nearly as delicious to eat as gumdrops.)

On day two of trampoline ownership, we started noticing a surprisingly large quantity of very uniformed shaped bark droppings. I looked at them closer, and they looked eerily familiar. Then it hit me: they looked like a miniature version of my pet poisonous caterpillar’s poo!

(Okay, yes, it’s my Mom’s pet, but I found it.)

So I studied it more closely, and sure enough, they were all way too uniform to be bark bits. They were tiny cylindrical turds. Caterpillar turds.

I swear, the Caterpillar Union is after me.

Then, sure enough, every time we went out to jump, a caterpillar or two would drop from the skies above onto the trampoline.

Not poisonous ones, mind you. Teensy Tiny green friendly ones.

Ali found them especially fascinating:

But despite their green cuteness, it’s kinda gross to jump in turds of any type, microscopic or not. So I’ve been keeping a broom nearby and have been attempting to beat back the excrement population as best as I can.

It sounds gross, but they really are microscopic and quite dry and hard. I don’t think anyone who hadn’t recently had a caterpillar experience would even realize that they were poo.

Except for the one turd in a thousand that is a bit looser than the rest – apparently from a caterpillar who didn’t chew enough leaves with his berries.

Anyway, enough about that.

Another great benefit that we have found in our trampoline is what Chris and I have lovingly dubbed “Tramp Time”.

I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.

Our Pastor always recommends “Porch Time” for couples to make sure that they’re communicating, but our front porch is a mosquito breeding ground. So we’ve found that Tramp Time is quite a wonderful substitute.

We’ve been going out at night after Ali goes to bed and jumping, visiting, talking, looking at the stars. It’s kind of like being outdoors but with a few less bugs. And somewhere comfortable to lay while talking about the huge and the minutia items of life.

Some of you have asked how my Dad has liked us getting a trampoline, since he didn’t allow me to have one when I was a kid. Aside from a comment or two about me snarkily picking on him in my last blog, he hasn’t said much.

But, for some reason, he hasn’t allowed my Mom to jump on it…strange.

But then again, her walker and/or crutches would probably puncture a hole in it anyway.

Rachel Callahan

TMI Greeting Cards “Because you Care. Just a little TOO Much.”

TMI Greeting Cards
“Because you Care. Just a little TOO Much.”