Rachel Callahan

On My Whirlwind Relationship with a Spammer.

October 17, 2016October 16, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

I came across this post in the course of conversation recently, and the memory made me giggle. So I decided it was worth re-sharing.

Originally posted September 23, 2014

As a blogger, I get hundreds of emails a day. Of those, approximately one is a real person emailing me to genuinely correspond.

If I’m lucky.

I adore emails from real people.

In the stack of emails, there are definite patterns that can be found.

PR Firms sending me press releases, hoping that I’ll write a glowing blog post about their newest product in exchange for hi-res images of said product!!

Because there’s nothing more exciting than the promise of hi-res images. I MEAN. I live my life to be able to zoom in on your product as tightly as I could possibly want, taking in every detail with wonder and excitement.

As do, I’m sure, my blog readers.

…Or PR firms offering me even more exciting perks in exchange for writing about their product.

“YOU will be honored to get an exclusive sneak peek at the ‘Our Stupid Movie 2’ MOVIE POSTER!!!”

Seriously?! A .jpg of a movie poster?? And all I have to do is spend a couple of hours and all of my credibility hawking the inane sequel to your straight-to-DVD movie??

I. CAN’T. WAIT.

I get thrilling offers to share 25 cent off coupons with you guys, invitations to give away smocked clothing (marketers: why not try searching key phrases before attempting to sell – you might find you are hawking smock to the World’s Foremost smock mocker), and even press releases written entirely in Danish.

(Those are the closest to my heart because I can pretend they’re offering me a Lego Factory Tour and want to give me one of everything they make, when in reality it’s just about some new freakish punk rock band called Fhrztengäggich with a feral cat for a lead singer.)

After I sift through all of the PR Firm emails (which would take approximately three days per day to accomplish if it weren’t for the cute little trash can icon on my toolbar), I still have the strange and mysterious guest post requests to deal with.

I get emails at least weekly and sometimes daily from almost assuredly fake people with these not-at-all believable stories about why they want to guest post on my blog. They never tell me what the subject matter would be, and there’s always the tiny stipulation that they’re going to place an undisclosed link (or ten) somewhere within their blog post that points to their “client’s” site.

And if I don’t answer them promptly with a giant flashing NO, they email me back – to check in.

Sometimes they offer to pay me in exchange for this guest posting opportunity, and other times they simply explain that the benefit for me is the post in and of itself. Here’s a direct quote from one of my favorite spins on this strategy:

“I was wondering if you would let me write a post for you? I am looking to get my work placed on high-end sites such as yours and would be happy to write a unique article just for you. I can come up with a title – or if you have something that you would like me to cover I can work from a brief. What’s in it for you, you are probably thinking? I place a sponsor in the post, which could take the form of a linked word to a reputable client relevant to the article. Your free article would be 500 words or more in length and completely unique to you.”

500 words that are all my own?? How could I ever resist such a priceless gift.

(I especially appreciated that his next sentence after what’s in it for me was actually what’s in it for him. But hey. Technicalities.)

However. Even my collection of Guest Post emails deliver me a special jewel every now and then, as was the case recently. Read carefully and slowly, out loud perhaps, savoring the beauty of this document.

On my first read-through of this email I knew it was something fantastic.

On my second read, I caught the fact that he changed identity from Steve to Andy back to Steve again, and I giggled with glee, then shared it with you on Facebook.

After riding the beautiful wave of your responses all day long,

I finally responded back.

The next morning, I had a response. I shook with excitement.

“…sorry to use as Andy as because I generally use Andy which is my alias when writing blogs.”

But besides that gorgeous sentence and the fabulous use of unnecessary parentheses, the real present was that tiny little picture I got next to his name.

It just didn’t look like the mental image I had of the AndySteve I know and adore.

So I clicked through to his Google+ profile and then clicked on the picture.

BINGO.

Oh AndySteve…don’t you know that when you steal a picture of an actor to claim as your own, you should at least change the file name?

Naturally, I continued my investigation by looking Ben Wright up on imdb.

Turns out, AndySteve is also a stunt guy! Who knew?? He is SO DANG TALENTED.

So I responded to his email, hoping to sound interested enough in his project that he would answer me again, but also referencing his acting career.

And then I waited. Because of course AndySteve only emails me in the middle of the night, as it is obvious that he’s not exactly from around here.

But alas. I apparently went too far with my caustic attitude. AndySteve cut off our relationship, leaving me saddened and alone, and once again with an inbox full of nothing that made my heart pitter patter.

I miss AndySteve. Desperately. I have many regrets about the way I handled our relationship. I was clearly not ready for a commitment and sabotaged what we had together.

I keep going back to my draft that asks him to come back to my inbox, to open up and tell me who he really is. Not to leave me without a word. We meant more to each than that.

But I never can hit that send button.

And every morning, when I open my email and read my latest request to hijack my blog, I am reminded of the hole in my heart.

Every morning, their grammar is too perfect, their consistency of name too exact. They don’t overuse the word “as” or have eternal run-on sentences.

There will never be another AndySteve.

And I let him go.

From my Brain Straight to Your Eyes.

October 13, 2016October 13, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

Darn life.

It gets in the way of all that is fun and right in the world.

No really. I seem to have lost the time to write. I’m rarely home in the afternoons anymore, and when I am, my children have already fried my brain into oblivion. Which means that I either a) need to learn to wake up at 4am if I intend to continue blogging, or b) get rid of my children.

Both seem equally impractical.

Anyway. I have no truly coherent thoughts for you today, but I thought I’d just tell you random bits of our life. Because no matter how boring it is, at least it’s better than talking about politics, right? And you need SOMEONE in your life that isn’t mentioning those T and C words.

___

Last night at Cubbies (Awanas, like Scouts but at Church), I noticed that Noah was the first kid to, without asking, pick up his snack trash and throw it in the trash can. LIKE A FREAKING MODEL. This made me think back, and I began realizing that I have observed him doing this every single week at Cubbies, then I would promptly black out the memory because it was too painful to process.

This kid has been my kid for nearly six long years and NEVER ONCE has he cleaned up after himself without being asked. NEVER ONCE has he thrown away his paper plate. NEVER ONCE has he put his cup in the sink. NEVER ONCE has he picked up a single flipping Hot Wheels without me prompting him to do so.

I WANTED TO WIPE THAT SMUG, PROUD, SELF-RIGHTEOUS SMILE OFF HIS LITTLE FACE.

And I still might. Right after I remind him to clean from yesterday’s breakfast.

____

Raise your hands if you’ve upgraded to iOs 10.

(Sit down if you don’t have an iPhone. Yes I’m discriminating against you.)

If you haven’t realized it, they created iOs 10 for sixth grade girls.

And I am in love with it.

You can send texts with invisible ink! And slam texts! And texts with balloons or confetti or lasers! You can send memes RIGHT FROM THE TEXTING INTERFACE. You can add stickers to your friend’s texts. You can download grammar correction stickers to correct your acquaintance’s texts.

It’s really the best.

But my favorite feature has been, by far, the handwriting feature. (Turn your phone sideways when you’re on the text screen to handwrite your texts.) I have friends with whom we almost exclusively hand-write our texts now, and nothing could look more beautiful than screens and screens of messily handwritten texts back and forth.

It’s like I’m passing notes in class, way back in the elementary school I never went to.

(It has also drastically improved my electronic signature at the grocery store.)

But one of my further goals is to regularly text beautifully(ish) written insults to those I hold dearest. Like this exchange with my precious friend Nikki (and several other friends, because you really should insult fair and wide.)

I have a long way to go on having beautiful cursive (I know, “breath” is barely legible), but I want to promise to you now that I will apply myself tirelessly to achieve my goals.

____

For my entire adult and adolescent life, I have been on the search for The Perfect Pen. This need is doubly important for left-handers, because we need a pen that won’t smear when the backside of our pinky finger rakes across freshly crafted script. I love a good, bold line which deepens that issue – I want boldness that dries immediately, and I want it to feel good coming out of the pen – none of that scratchy Sharpie crap.

I once found this Perfect Pen and I bought them out. But unfortunately, it didn’t last. They made the pen for about half a second after I discovered it, and then it was gone forever. It could have had something to do with its rather unfortunate naming (Permaball) but other pens with less fortunate names have made it longer (Uniball.)

However. I have once again discovered The Perfect Pen. My adoration for it may very well doom it to an untimely death, but I’ll quickly tell y’all about it while there are still some in stock: The Papermate InkJoy.

Isn’t it LOVELY?

Besides the fact that it comes in fourteen beautiful colors (you must buy the 14-pack to fully appreciate the superiority of this product), it writes boldly, dries quickly, and feels like writing with real creamery butter.

If I were Oprah, I’d be sending you all a pack of these. Just for being here today. But I’m not.

____

On Sunday, I ran my fifth half marathon on my 35th birthday. Chris and I went to Athens, Georgia for the weekend and enjoyed the college town (I would describe Athens as “adorably quaint and historic with an always-present more-than-faint stale beer odor.”)

As races always do, there were photo ops along the way. I wanted to scream at each and every photographer – “GET OFF THE GROUND!!”

Every one of them were sitting on the pavement, shooting upwards at my lack of thigh gap.

If they want to actually sell these race photos (which, considering I’m still getting emails from the race I did in March trying to get me to buy their blasted upshots), they should learn people’s angles.

NOBODY WANTS AN UPSHOT.

Despite my best judgement, I opened the email boasting of my magnificent race photos ready for purchase.

And I wanted to scream at the photographers all over again.

Ew.

This made me realize, though – I should surround myself by tall people. The taller a person is, the more of a downshot they have on me, and the skinnier I look. Oh – and that means I look EXCEPTIONALLY thicker to my short friends.

I’m taking applicants now to replace them.

___

Dishwashing pods are the worst invention ever.

“Do not allow moisture in bucket of dishwashing pods.”

“Do not touch with wet hands.”

Guess what I NEVER need when my hands are dry??

Dishwashing pods.

So I’m destined to an existence of clumped-together dishwashing pods. Then I have to rip them apart (with wet hands) and spray the powder from within all over my kitchen.

This has to be part of The Curse. Thanks, Eve.

Because We Need an Unexpected Presidential Gift.

October 10, 2016October 18, 2016 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend, Weird Strange and True

GUYS. The weekend. AmIRight? It was my birthday weekend and the world had to fall apart. HOW DARE IT.

Anyway. Y’all don’t come to me to hear my political views (I do have them, believe it or not) – y’all come to me for escapism.

I was saddened last night, on my birthday, that I had nary an entertaining thought to offer myself or anyone else about anything because all of the UGH that is blanketing our country. But then I remembered a post I did a while back on Presidential Christmas Gifts, and decided I’d see what Amazon had to offer on our current presidential candidates.

Thankfully, Amazon never disappoints.

Now. There were plenty of disrespectful gifts available, such as toilet paper, dog poop bags, and nutcrackers. But I tried to keep my picks to only the strange – not the hateful. Hateful is easy – bizarre is harder.

Some of these gifts are lovingly available for both candidates, so we shall pit them against each other in a gifting debate and determine the winner, category by category. I am the perfect impartial judge, because I have the exact same feelings for both of them – and will be voting for someone else (who doesn’t have any weird gift items in his likeness – so maybe he wins.)

But feel free to weigh in with your own vote – ON THE GIFTS, not the candidates. (We’ve all had enough of that now, haven’t we?)

Okay. Let’s get started.

1 Trump and Hillary Guitar Picks. Did you know that you can strum a little ditty with Don and the Hill? Of course you can. It’s 2016.

On Debate Guitar Pick, I’m going with Trump. At least his mouth is open (but then again isn’t it always) and he looks like he’s singing along. Hillary looks condescendingly bored with your tune.

2. Trump and Hillary Socks. Because your feet are feeling the chill of this election.

In Debate Sock, Hillary wins. Trump’s socks do not feel cozy at all – they’re stressing my feet out. However, Trump does have an alternate option, some fabulously Hairy Socks – so he earns an honorable mention.

(I mean, whose cat wouldn’t have an absolute FIELD DAY chasing around those Deplorables?!)

3. Hero Shirts.

Hillary gently saves the day as a Fair Maiden on a Unicorn,

And Trump rides in as a crazed lunatic on a tank.

In Debate Hero Shirt, Clinton wins for the dreamlike vision. Although Trump’s is severely more realistic.

4. Trump and Hillary “Herb” Grinders – I guess in case you need a little chill from this election.

In Debate “Herb” Grinders, Trump wins – because those wrinkles on Hillary’s neck are anything but high.

5. Hillary and Trump Doggie Chew Toys. Or toddler cuddle toys – if your kid enjoys Stephen King bedtime stories.

In Debate Chew Toy, the reward goes to Hillary. Those cheeks are positively irresistible – and Trump’s look more like his buttcheeks moved upward. Also – that hair would be a petri dish for bacteria.

6. Chia Trump and Chia Hillary Classic Presidential Fun right here.

In Debate Chia, Trump wins – the face and hair look significantly more realistic, not to mention the perfect skin tone.

Now let’s move on to the Lightning Round – gifts only available for one candidate or the other.

The Rainbow Pantsuit T-Shirt – for when you’re feeling like a pantsuit but the occasion calls for something a bit more laidback.

The Trumputin shirt – because all true saviors ride in pairs, shirtless, on a pig.

The Pantsuit Action Figure – in case your daughter’s Barbies and son’s army men are With Her.

The Trump Piñata – rumor has it Melania had a party with one of these Friday night.

The “Make America Great Again” Bucket Hat – because nothing – nothing I say – says greatness like a bucket hat.

The Trump Knife – perfect for all occasions – cleaning toenails, gutting fish, Trump rallies, and more!

A Child’s First Book of Trump – It’s just words, people. Just words.

But really, really good words.

So who wins this debate of gifting?

Dirty Santa, that’s who.

A Meandering Tale of Aliens, Lizards, and Art Appreciation.

October 6, 2016October 6, 2016 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Fun With Roadkill, Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience.

Ali drew a picture of an alien.

It was a quite nice alien – friendly, geometric, and with wildly fascinating fingers.

Yes, a perfectly fine alien.

She showed it to me that morning. I praised her delightful drawing and we moved on.

It became a long day, much in thanks to her little brother. Whining, arguing – the works. Thankfully, Ali was quite agreeable and obedient, as is her usual state, but Noah more than made up for that. By that afternoon, I needed a moment.

By myself.

With no little people anywhere nearby.

So I purposefully marched out to the front porch swing – my favorite place these days.

Two seconds later, two little people followed me out. I quickly shut that mess down.

“I need a 15 minute break. I need to be alone, I need it to be quiet, and I need you guys to go inside and let me have my break. I’ll be back inside in 15 minutes.”

“So I can’t stay out here?”, Noah asked in a whine.

“Definitely not.”

They both turned and went inside.

I breathed a long sigh and leaned my head back, enjoying the first calm moment of the day. Which lasted exactly five seconds. Until I heard the screaming from inside. And then crying. And then a lovely duet of crying.

My Mommy Justice Meter bubbled over.

Fifteen minutes! That’s all I asked for – FIFTEEN MINUTES. How hard is this?!

I stomped inside, where they were both standing, crying, barely in the door because that’s as far as they’d made it before everything went to handbasket.

“WHAT happened? WHY are you crying? WHY couldn’t you give me my fifteen minutes?!”

Noah: “She punched me right in the chest!!!”

Ali: “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened – I just lost my mind for a minute!!”

Well THIS is a turn of events.

Immediately I knew that something had precluded this rare mauling of her little brother, so my first response, biased though it may seem, was to ask Noah,

“What did you do to her??”

Noah: “I told her that her alien picture was dumb.”

Me, still in the selfish state of mind: “So now I have to think of consequences for two kids instead of my fifteen minute break. Go to your rooms.”

Ali, ever the people pleaser, felt terrible. “I’m so sorry for ruining your Mommy break!”

Poor kid.

It’s really one of those moments where you feel like the justified thing to do would be to praise her for all the times she actually didn’t punch her brother in the chest when he very much deserved it. I mean, if you don’t lose your cool and punch your little brother until the 4,001st time that you could have lost your cool and punched your little brother, shouldn’t you get a prize rather than a punishment?

But alas. That’s not the way the world works. And even if you’re 99.99% responsible, that .01% can be a booger.

So her consequences had to do with not getting to play with a friend later that evening, and she readily accepted it, her guilty conscience starved for something to assuage her self-loathing. We had our usual talk about forgiving yourself, and moved on.

The next day, I had a lunch date with a friend. Since the day before had been fairly rough, I extended my lunch date into a run by myself afterward. I needed quite a few moments of silence, after all – my 15 minutes of porch time had accrued interest. On my run, I spotted the most peaceful looking lizard, lying on his back as if she were sunning herself. Were it not for the puncture on the left side of her abdomen, I might’ve thought she really was just taking a beautiful day’s nap.

I knew she deserved some major props for her pose. I kept running, but began thinking about what would fit her situation. I decided on one of those 1950’s sun-reflector things.

So I re-routed, ran to Rite Aid, bought a pack of Juicy Fruit, and began my run back.

Except that when I got back to her location and opened my pack of gum, I discovered something horrendous: gum manufacturers have quit making silver wrappers! I hate gum so I had no idea they’d gone all paper – and this deception did not make me hate gum any less.

This ruined my entire plan. What could I do with paper wrappers?? Nothing!

I confessed my sad, sad failure via text to my roadkill friend, Tanya. I had failed. I had lost a point in our game. I was the worst.

But she wasn’t going to let me give up that easily. No, she exhorted me to use my brain. Take a minute and figure out what I could do with what I had, even though I’d been thwarted.

Her pushing me to strive forward kicked my brain into motion and I came up with a plan. I ran back to my car and grabbed a pen, then made a book out of the actual gum. Because why not.

I got her all set up just so, then took her picture.

This work of art was titled “When the Reading gets Too Steamy.”

I ran off and left her, as an art installation, where I’d found her – in the entrance of the Birmingham Botanical Gardens. We don’t know how many patrons got to appreciate her beauty before she was scraped up and disposed of – or better yet until a predator enjoyed eating her and then having a refreshing Juicy Fruit chew afterward – but I do hope she was appreciated for the beauty that she was.

Of course, Tanya appreciated the work of art very much. But I also sent her to Chris,

Who, in a rare out-of-character move, criticized my art.

But we quickly got things worked out between us and found out it was a text misunderstanding.

Oops.

But at least he acknowledged that he was no better than his son, and totally deserved a hard punch in the chest.

The Scandalous Side of Botany.

October 3, 2016October 2, 2016 Rachel Callahan Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Just My Luck, Weird Strange and True

Parental Guidance Suggested.

I love our Botany book. I struggle with finding history and science books that I like, but this one – it’s just perfect. The organization of the chapters is clear and succinct, the writing is beautiful, and the experiments are easy enough that even this severely un-experimenty mom can make them happen.

I love it so much that we’re in week 9 of school and I haven’t abandoned reading it aloud.

(Reading aloud is hard work. And also requires a modicum of non-laziness and non-boredom. By now I’ve usually jettisoned a subject or two for Ali to read to herself because I just can’t take it anymore. But not this year!)

Last week, we were on the porch enjoying our brand new fall weather, and I was reading aloud to my children. There was an Alabama Power crew lounging in the corner of our yard, taking their lunch break from messing with the power pole next to our driveway.

I wasn’t sure if the crew was in earshot or not, but I didn’t really care. They could join us for our educational pursuits if they liked.

So we started with Botany. We were studying the seed chapter, and were learning about the five methods of seed dispersal.

(Human, animal, wind, water, and mechanical. Now you can’t say this blog isn’t educational.)

We were reading about the last method, mechanical dispersal – more specifically, the last example of a plant that uses mechanical dispersal.

The power guys were enjoying their sandwiches by the mailbox, and the kids were intently listening. Ali was taking notes in her workbook as I read the last paragraph in my amplified, sing-songy botany voice.

Another fruit that uses mechanical dispersal is the squirting cucumber.

Um, the what?

Its small, two-inch cucumbers are filled with slimy juice that contains the seeds.

I glanced over at the power guys, trying to determine if they were listening to the lesson and praying that my read-aloud voice didn’t carry to the mailbox.

As they ripen, the pressure causes the cucumber to burst off its stalk and explosively shoot slimy liquid up to 20 feet away! The seeds spew out of the liquid, and voila! Seeds are sent to a new plot of land.

These would be a fun plant to grow. Their scientific name is Ecballium elaterium. If you grow these plants, wait until the cucumber is nice and fat. To make the cucumber squirt, gently shake the vine, but stand back right away so you don’t get slimed!

By the time I got to this part, I was shocked that I’d been able to read with a straight face.

(I. AM. AMAZING.)

And I was also a tiny bit surprised that one of the Alabama Power guys hadn’t choked on his pickle spear.

I mean sure. The study of botany has had its moments before – talking about seeds and ovaries and whatnot. But this? This was BEYOND. Let’s read it aloud, all together, and just bask in its beauty.

Another fruit that uses mechanical dispersal is the squirting cucumber.

GUYS. I said read it OUT LOUD. I don’t care if you’re at work! Kids in the room? IT’S A TEXTBOOK forcryin’outloud. Let’s start over.

Another fruit that uses mechanical dispersal is the squirting cucumber. Its small, two-inch cucumbers are filled with slimy juice that contains the seeds. As they ripen, the pressure causes the cucumber to burst off its stalk and explosively shoot slimy liquid up to 20 feet away! The seeds spew out of the liquid, and voila! Seeds are sent to a new plot of land. These would be a fun plant to grow. Their scientific name is Ecballium elaterium. If you grow these plants, wait until the cucumber is nice and fat. To make the cucumber squirt, gently shake the vine, but stand back right away so you don’t get slimed!

And THIS is why we homeschool, people. For quality moments like these.

(Additionally, I expect to get an Alabama Power Certificate of Commendation for my efforts in lifting spirits and boosting morale.)

Editor’s Note: I *carefully* searched YouTube for this anomaly. I needed to see it for myself, and it really helped solidify for the children that the squirting cucumber was a plant they should tell EVERYONE about. You’re welcome.
https://youtu.be/NsIojj4PzAo

I Still Hate Dogs.

September 29, 2016September 28, 2016 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Just My Luck

I love ALL of God’s endlessly imaginative creatures.

In fact, I’ve been on an animal finding bender lately.

(And not just dead ones.)

I stalked a giant, pizza-pan-sized snapping turtle down a creek near my house,

(He even had spikes on his tail! I now understand Super Mario. BOWSER WAS A SNAPPING TURTLE.)

I’ve been LOVING getting to know the exotic Mediterranean House Gecko family that’s moved in on our porch – or rather, the Dad lives on our porch, eating all the night bugs,

They’re a bit worried about all the immigration debates. They crawled a long way to get from the Mediterranean to Birmingham, Alabama.

And the babies live in our garage walls. They’re the most cuddly geckos you’ve ever seen.

Of course I put this one back as soon as I finished his complimentary newborn photo sesh.

The giant fishing spider we found while fossil-hunting fascinated me, and I didn’t even mind the Black Widow Spider Tanya found downtown while we were running.

(I mean of all the places I go in the woods and it’s downtown that I see my first Black Widow? Whatever, nature.)

(And you’re welcome for the lack of spider pictures in this post. You know who you are.)

The tiny creatures I find are my favorite. Like the hike we took where we lost count at 80-something baby toads – because toads are best when they’re miniscule (just like humans),

And also baby lizards – not quite as cute as baby geckos, but I try not to give them complexes.

I stalk butterflies sucking the last of the nectar out of the fall flowers with their straw-like proboscises.. (we’re studying Botany this year – don’t I sound smart?)

And I stalk teeny tiny baby alligators that cross the road in front of us in South Alabama…

(Yes I totally got out of my car to photograph this adorable baby while my kids freaked the freak out…)

And my favorite run all season has been the one where I saw two snakes (one of which was a cottonmouth and I yet again misidentified him as harmless and followed him way too closely to get good pictures) (which I’m not sharing yet again because I’m a good person) and this guy, a fighting Crawfish, who let me know he was ready for battle, although he did trip and fall twice while trying to put up his dukes and make a backwards hasty retreat at the same time.

So can we all agree that I really appreciate, adore, and regularly ponder the goodness of God’s creation in the animal kingdom?

Except dogs.

I’ve already laid out my main reasons for my feelings on dogs. But let me share with you what happened this week, which further cemented my eternal feelings of canine animosity.

Every Monday afternoon, Noah and I have exactly 55 minutes to waste while Ali is in gymnastics. It’s that perfect amount of time that is way too long to sit in ones car but too short to go most places.

Fortunately for us, there’s a beautiful park nearby that is right next to the Cahaba River. You can climb the boulders, skip rocks, find crawfish, appreciate the beauty of the wiggly snail trails in the dirt at the bottom of the river bed, and in general appreciate the beauty that the Cahaba flows into Birmingham.

However.

Every time we go, there are dogs and their owners there.

And, it seems, dogs lose any and all sense of obedience and proper behavior when in or near a river.

Last time, we got jumped by two dogs. And both owners, despite my telling them that my son does not like dogs (for reasons such as this), continued to let their dogs jump on us until we left.

This time, there was only one guy and one dog at the river. They looked calm and quiet, deeply involved in their game of fetch. I had high hopes. But we walked the opposite way down the river bank anyway.

After thoroughly exploring, Noah really wanted to check out the island that the man and his dog were on, an island normally not in existence since the water is usually higher. Since it was a rare island, I reluctantly agreed. We walked out to it, purposefully walking away from the whole dog situation.

And it worked.

They continued to play fetch while Noah and I explored.

…Until Noah made the fateful mistake of throwing a rock into the river.

We were so far from the dog that he should have been out of earshot, but no. He heard. And he assumed that Noah very much wanted to play fetch with him.

He bounded by Noah and I and into the river, retrieved the rock, and began jumping on Noah.

Meanwhile, the dog owner was repeating in a calm voice, “Watch out – he will jump on you.”

Uh.

Dog owners of the world. How about when your dog is actively jumping on my kid, and my kid is screaming, try the words “Come! Sit! Stay!” instead of “Hey watch out there because my dog will invade your personal space and leave muddy paw prints all over you and he might slobber your face while he’s up there because clearly he’s taller than your son so hey you might want to watch out.”

Watch out?!

How is that helpful?

By “watch out” are you just letting me know “Hey! I’m not going to do anything about my dog and we both know you can’t/won’t, so let’s enjoy watching together while my dog clobbers your son into the river!”

These were the thoughts going through my mind as my voice was actually being quite generous (and lying) and saying “That’s okay – he threw the rock – I’m sure the dog was confused”, so I didn’t notice right away that the dog very suddenly changed focus, having grown bored with terrorizing my son, and leapt over to where I was standing and up onto my torso.

I flailed backwards a bit, now covered in mud and the perfume of nasty wet river dog, and began to lose my balance. I flailed more, as the oh-so-helpful dog owner kept quietly repeating “Watch out – he will jump on you.”

I caught myself from falling, but in the process dropped my phone. And we all four watched it bounce, bounce bounce into the river.

At THAT point, the psychotically calm dog owner lost his cool and screamed out an obscenity. He, I, and the dog all dove for my phone.

(I mean an iPhone is as good as a rock or stick for a game of river fetch, so why not?)

I got to it first, pulling it out of the bottom of the creek bed (it was shallow but the phone had still been completely submerged), and began shaking the water out of the headphone jack.

Dog owner apologized and asked if it was okay.

Noah asked if it was okay and said this is why he didn’t like dogs.

I turned off my phone and told them both as much, having heard that the frying of electronics happens because they’re left on while wet.

Dog Owner fumbled around in his pocket and said “Let me give you some contact info in case it doesn’t come back on.” But I was too shaken up, too muddy, and smelt too much of river dog to want to deal.

So I shook my head, turned around and began walking away, and said “That’s okay, have a nice day.”

Yeah. I told the guy to have a nice day.

I’m a southern girl. It’s what you do. It was the most Bless Your Heart statement I could muster at that moment.

Then I realized that the whole dog attack thing had probably taken longer than I thought, and on top of that, I didn’t have a phone I could turn on to see what time it was, and I had a kid I needed to pick up from gymnastics.

So Noah and I took off running.

Which I’m sure didn’t look strange AT ALL.

We made it to Gymnastics at the very moment Ali was let out of class. After securing my child, my stress from the whole ordeal began to catch up with me and I felt quite a deep sadness at the prospect of forever losing my Apple Appendage.

“Tell Ali what happened, Noah.”

He regaled the tale to her, with five year old dramatic flair, reiterating again how much he didn’t like dogs, and she gasped at the prospect of my phone being roadkill.

Or riverkill, as it was.

We went home and I put my phone in a bag with desiccant packets (something I keep around to pack my camera in after an especially humid sunset), and I tried to not stare as it decided whether it would live or die.

After two hours, I couldn’t take the suspense any longer.

I removed it from its isolette in iPICU…

Then I turned it on and…..

It worked.

The dog had failed at frying my phone.

But he had not failed at further cementing my feelings toward his species.

7 Things Better Than a Debate.

September 26, 2016September 26, 2016 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Rachel's "Brilliant" Marketing Ideas, This is TONGUE IN CHEEK People - Don't take me Seriously., Utter Silliness

Tonight is the first presidential debate.

I know, right.

Approximately 55% of the country moans in desperation, crying out to God, asking “Is this the judgment we’ve read about in Revelation??”

Apocalyptic or not, a debate between Trump and Clinton is perhaps the last thing I want to watch, especially since they’re not even letting any third party candidates in to chop up the madness into more palatable bites.

But watch I will. Or at least sit in the room while Chris watches it and I stare at my phone.

However, I do wish that the Beings in Charge would have conferred with me as to the setup of this debate. Because I have a few ideas. A few million ideas possibly, but definitely a few ideas that would make this whole showdown less nauseating.

After all, we live in a Media-Crazed Reality-Show world, which is partially to blame for the situation we find ourselves in now. So why not utilize those setups and make the whole catastrophe at least more interesting, and possibly even more informative?

Let me present a few of my ideas to you, since no one else has asked for them.

1. A dinner at Downton Abbey.

I think the IDEAL way to truly grasp the candidate’s ability to handle such a high-stress job would be to have Mrs. and Mr. Clinton, along with Mr. and Mrs. Trump, attend a dinner party with the Crawleys. The Dowager Countess, of course, would be in charge of questioning the candidates. After leaving them both at a loss for words with her endlessly witty smackdowns, she would concisely pass her judgment.

About Trump,

“Is this an instrument of communication or torture?”

And About Hillary,

“She is like a homing pigeon. She finds our underbelly every time… Dreadful woman!”

Then she would throw up her hands and say “Why does everyday involve a fight with an American?”

I agree, Violet. I agree.

But if Downton Abbey didn’t work out…

2. Hunger Games.

I think the important skills of avoiding the sting of Tracker Jackers, the jaws of Wolf Muttations, and no matter how hungry you are, not tasting those delicious looking Nightlock berries would be a good judge of ability to be the President of the United States of America.

And hey. If a face full of Tracker Jacker stings left one or two opponents unable to run for office anymore, I think America would be able to recover from their loss….eventually.

3. Naked and Afraid.

You know what, no.

That’s a horrible idea.

4. A Day of Alabama Football practice.

They don’t even have to practice football. Really any situation where Saban can yell at them for a solid eight hours and then have a press conference where he talks about how vastly disappointed he is in the both of them would make me blissfully happy.

5. Swimming with Michael Phelps.

That’s just because I want to see any mortal swim next to Michael Phelps. But Hillary and Donald would be especially amusing – most notably watching the orange hair (and orange chest hair) flap about in the pool and seeing that pantsswimsuit.

6. The Apprentice – Presidential Edition.

In this hit show, both contestants would serve in a one month trial presidency under Barack Obama. They would compete in important presidential skills, such as negotiating peace treaties, wrestling with massive lose-lose policy decisions, rolling Easter eggs on the White House lawn, and eating monkey brains with the King of that country in Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom. Who can eat it with a straight face and presidential flair? Who hears “You’re Fired!”?

7. Liar Liar

Find that fantastic kid Max who wished his Dad couldn’t lie for 24 hours, and then pay him a million dollars to wish the same about Hill and Don. Then ask them each a question per minute for the entire 24 hours.

OH. MY. GOODNESS. The glory.

What would you create to replace the presidential debates? Make it good. Give me something to read and laugh about during the torture tonight.

The Stranger Stuff of Life.

September 23, 2016September 22, 2016 Rachel Callahan Photographical Oddities, Weird Strange and True

Facebook has suggested that I find a new way to tell my stories.

That’s right, it’s time to quit blogging.

It’s time I started sending you a message on a potato instead.

I had to go to potatoparcel.com and figure out what was up. I mean, this could be the next wave of communication, guys!

Just like their Facebook sponsored post, the example potatoes on their site were clearly just pictures of plain potatoes with words photoshopped on top of them. The word “congrats” even slightly extended past the potato.

Although I did like the originality of telling Paul he was evicted by potato, I couldn’t help but wonder what the actual purchased potatoes looked like.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to buy one to find out. I kept scrolling, and they had screenshots of Instagram posts of delivered Potato Parcels.

Yes. They are HANDWRITTEN POTATOES. Written with a Sharpie. DELIVERED IN A NORMAL MAILING ENVELOPE.

They want to charge me $9.99 (plus shipping, I’m certain) to grab a spud, scrawl on it with a sharpie, and mail it to you.

If these people are making money, then America deserves what we’re getting this election season.

But before I get off on a political rant that I morally refuse to engage in online, let’s move on to other puzzling vegetable issues.

Like, for instance, this sign I saw on a bathroom door.

So many questions.

Who is taking corn shucks in the bathroom?

Why are they taking corn shucks into the bathroom?

Or,

Is “corn shucks” referencing literal corn shucks, or is it more of a verb, such as, “Dang it Jimmy Bob! Did you just take a corn shuck in the bathroom again? I can smell it all the way out here!! Did you NOT see the sign I put up that said ‘do NOT take corn shucks in the bathroom?’”

I can’t stand it when I walk into the bathroom right after someone’s taken a corn shuck.

On to more puzzling bathroom signs, this one at a doctor’s office.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t create water when I change. What are these people changing into?

Ali expressed interest in needlepoint and knitting, so I bought her a couple of sets to learn on.

This one, however, confused me.

Did I just knit a homemade tampon? And why?

Hopefully she has more talent with the thread than her mother.

I totally bought these pens. Because I’m a firm believer in protecting against the ever-present threat of water fading fraud.

I have a new follower on Instagram. I can’t wait to buy their products.

Were they sitting in the bathroom one day when they got the epiphany for their brand name?

“Wow that’s green. EUREKA!! I HAVE IT!!!”

There’s nothing harder to throw away than a recycling bucket.

Now it’s time for another round of “What’s on YOUR car?”

Whatever it is, I bet it’s not as holy as if you were CrossFitting for the for the King of Kings.

Unless you’re repping essential oils, obviously. That’s always the holiness trump card.

There’s no farm like a small breed farm, is there? I love seeing those amber stalks of poodles waving in the breeze.

It was time to pick my Christmas ornaments from the Hallmark Catalog again, and as always, there were some seriously holiday-cheer-filled ornaments to pick from.

Nothing says Merry Christmas like an Assassin’s Creed character jumping from between the branches.

Or this guy peeking out, looking for someone to devour.

Only Santa himself can be more festive that this touching Star Trek scene.

And what IS the true meaning of Christmas if you don’t have the Death Star topping your tree??

Amazon is my drug dealer. I order my addiction of Gummy Vitamins from them, because they have the best selection at the lowest price.

They have been known to be, however, a bit of an overpacker.

Nothing says “YES! You’re the one to sell my house!!” like a photo of you with your butt squooshed between two giant red lips on the beach.

I bet those lips were excited to get lugged out to the beach for THAT.
Gives a whole new meaning to “Kiss my butt.”
Maybe that’s what she’s communicating in a passive-aggressive way.
”Don’t like how I sell real estate? Kiss my butt just like these big fat red lips.”

Alexander Hamilton toiled over writing his Federalist Papers just so that one day wine could be marketed with the term at Sam’s Club.

You have no control: Who lives, who dies, who sells your story!

I was stuck behind this dart-loving guy in line for way too long. I got to read each and every misuse of the word “to” on his shirt. And take a picture for you.

Don’t stare too long. You might find yourself becoming the victim of vudo’n.

The Ghost of Fort Morgan.

September 21, 2016September 21, 2016 Rachel Callahan Alabama History, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Weird Strange and True

It was a dark and stormy morning.

No really – it actually was.

We went down to the beach last weekend to visit the Chris’ Aunt Kitty and Uncle Leo (famous around here for many things, such as Toenail Art and Crochet Shorts.) It was actually a month after our planned trip to visit them, but it had gotten washed out – literally – by the prediction of a bad weekend storm.

So of course, it’d be raining on the rain check weekend as well.

But I had high hopes. There was just a tiny strip of rain that looked like it would be directly over their house for hours. Which meant that if we got out for adventure, we’d escape the rain!

Fort Morgan Historical Site is on our list of Alabama History field trips, but we’re not chronologically there yet. We’re still hanging out somewhere in the murky in-between of dinosaurs and Native Americans, and I really don’t want to mess up the proper order of things.

But, Fort Morgan was semi-nearby. And there was NO rain there – for sure! And I’d heard it was a fun place to photograph. So I ditched my orderly morals and packed up the children and Aunt Kitty to haul down the 25 mile tiny strip of land between gulf and bay, between us and adventure.

We arrived and I was immediately filled with excitement. I haven’t been to Fort Morgan since I was 9, and all I remember was being bored and wishing I was at the beach instead.

I was a stupid 9 year old.

To get into the fort, you have to walk through a bricked tunnel in the hillside:

Yes, those are my children descending into the fort alone…way more excited about this adventure than their mother at their age.

Then there’s a small courtyard with creepy windows that almost certainly had ghosts fleeting behind them,

Then you walk through this entrance to the actual fort.

Fort Morgan was completed in 1834, after the War of 1812 revealed weaknesses of protecting our shores from naval fleets. It was later commandeered by the Confederate Army during the civil war, and was the site of the Battle of Mobile Bay. It kept being abandoned then reused all the way through World War II, when they trained there to counter the threat of German U-Boats in the Gulf of Mexico.

But you don’t get the feeling that it’s been in use anytime in the past 200 years when walking through its halls.

You do, however, get the feeling that there are a lot of former soldiers that still might reside here.

I’m not opposed to the idea of spirits and ghosts being a real phenomenon, especially since multiple members of my own family have had so many encounters with them. And this seemed like just the kind of place that one would meet a friendly ghost or two.

The fact that it was built in the shape of a Masonry Star (or Pentagram, depending on how you look at it) really adds to its creepiness.

It’s ripe for making National Treasure 3: The Jewels of Alabama. Don’t you think?
Nick Cage could ROCK THIS PLACE.

Shadows and light intermixed at every turn, some rooms awash with windows, and some rooms dank and completely dark.

Steep stairs, dead ends, chained rooms, and giant artillery shells all give you the feeling that you’re not really supposed to be here, but yet, here you stand, exploring an entirely uncivilized relic of the past.

It didn’t take long for the rain to catch up with us – that tiny streak over Kitty and Leo’s house transformed into a soaking, wide rain.

The 40 million bricks that make up Fort Morgan provided ample covering from the elements, so we explored the endless hallways.

At a break in the storms, we climbed atop the fort to look around.

The kids loved imagining what it would have been like to be a sentry,

As well as artillerymen (and women.)

Before we left, we walked a hundred feet or so out to the end of the world – the southern tip of Fort Morgan, and therefore the southern tip of Alabama.

For a moment, we forgot the wars, the fighting, the deaths, and the total seriousness of where we were, and it just felt like we were at another part of our state’s beautiful beaches.

The deluge once again caught up with us, and left us completely soaked before we made it back to the car.

Later that afternoon, when we were snugly inside and I was editing my photos, I suddenly got that eerie feeling again – like there was so much history walking quietly through those hallways alongside us.

And literally, the next photo I came to was this one.

And I almost jumped out of my skin.

I recognized the profile in the window immediately – it was my son. His shoulders and head were sticking up out of that window ledge – a place he couldn’t have been – and that I knew he hadn’t been. But it looked just like him!

(Not to mention the creepy face on the wall next to him, but I wasn’t nearly as concerned about that.)

I started to slowly zoom in, trying to figure out what was going on. It was still Noah – whatever it was.

(In case only a mother can see it, here it is with an inserted photo of him that I took the same day. Can you see him now?)

I zoomed all the way in, feeling all kinds of creepiness run through my spine…

Only to find that it was just a jut-out in the bricks. In the perfect shape to be an optical illusion of Noah, when seen far away.

So what’s the moral of this story?

Explore. Go on adventures. Your kid’s ghost is also out there somewhere. But make sure you have a hi-res camera so that you don’t freak the freak out for the rest of your life when you see it.

Hands-On Alabama History: Weeks Two and Four.

September 15, 2016 Rachel Callahan Alabama History, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore.

We’re doing a year’s worth of Alabama field trips to study our history in a hands-on fashion. For an introduction to what and why we’re studying Alabama History, click here.

We haven’t moved on from dinosaurs just yet, because I wanted to take my kids to experience The McWane Collection. Housed inside The McWane Center, our local Science/Discovery Museum, most members don’t even realize The McWane Collection exists. It includes nearly a half-million specimens and artifacts related to the natural history of Alabama, hundreds of thousands of which are fossils, all neatly cataloged in these fascinating cabinets.

Although this area of the museum is not open to the public (for obvious reasons – I mean, look at that gorgeous organization), I was fortunate enough to get to hear about it a few years ago at a Blogger event, so I emailed McWane’s Education Department and asked if my kids could get a quick overview to go along with our history program. We were able to chat with Jun Ebersole, the Director of Collections, who provided us an exciting and quite educational overview of the geological finds in Alabama.

This guy is related to a T.Rex, but has longer arms and a smaller head. Clearly Alabama has superior dinosaurs.

He explained the geological map of Alabama, showing that the green/yellow sections are where dinosaur bones can be found, and making it sound really easy. He said he found one set of bones for a previously undiscovered species along the side of a road, and another just sticking out of the creekbed!

Jun explained to us that all the dinosaurs being found in Alabama are new species, and one recent discovery was a new species and genus.

Being one of only two active Paleontologists in our state, his job sounds pretty exciting – he got to name the above genus and species, and is currently working on proving that another set of bones found are a new species.

A lot of the bones found in Alabama are aquatic, and including giant turtles and menacing fish. Those creeped Ali out a bit more than dinosaurs. Personally, I’d rather meet a giant turtle than a dino, but whatev.

There is plenty of fantastic information about Alabama’s prehistoric period in the public part of McWane Center, so it is definitely worth putting on the Alabama History visit list, even though the collection is unavailable to the public (but you can peek through the window and see the work in progress, which is pretty fun.)

We’re now determined to find a new species of dinosaurs ourselves, especially since Mr. Ebersole assured us that Alabama is THE place to find fossils right now – we have more than any other state east of the Mississippi River.

He recommended that we go on a field trip with the Alabama Paleontological Society who regularly goes to fossil sites, as well as visiting Shark Tooth Creek, where you can reach in the creek and pull out a handful of shark teeth. (And also, here’s more information to setting up a field trip at McWane Center.)

I KNOW you all want to come visit Alabama to discover dinosaurs now, right??

Here was Ali’s report:

After this trip, we decided it was time to start our giant Alabama map to document our journeys. Because you can’t do Alabama History without a giant map – it’s just not right.

I got a large foam board and Chris just so happened to have an obsolete-to-his-job giant map of Alabama and its counties. We traced over the top of the map with the foam board underneath,

Which left an indentation that could then be marked over with a sharpie.

We then marked the cities we had visited so far (again using the county map to approximate their location,)

And added the dinosaur bone belt after that.

As we progress in our studies, this map should get quite crowded.

We will visit our week three field trip in my next post, but on week four, we returned to the Cahaba River for some fossil hunting. Based on where we (and the Cahaba) fall on the geological map of Alabama, we knew we would only find plant fossils, but they’re still exciting to discover.

And all rocks are still fun to smash.

The river was really low, so slate was easy to come by and we found several different plant types. Many imprints were so clear that you could see the veins in the leaves, so the trip doubled as science, since we’re studying Botany.

Was this plant vascular or non-vascular? A monocot or a dicot?

We also found these clay bowls, because we always find something random at the river.

I felt sure they were our cousin’s, who I know come to this part of the river and their grandmother is a fantastic potter. But I checked, and no – they did not claim them. So if anyone lost any bowls by the river, they’re still there.

As we were winding down, Ali, who was rock climbing and stone skipping,

screamed and ran toward us.

“I just saw the hugest spider!! He was SO hairy!!!!!”

“Where? Is he still there?”

She led us over and indeed – the thing was literally bigger than a tarantula – about the size of Ali’s hand, not that Ali’s hand was getting anywhere close to her.

I say “she” because she very obviously had a large egg sack underneath her body.

She was amazing. I mean, I had no desire to pick her up or get within touching range (why touch other creatures anyway? I wouldn’t like it if some giant came up and petted me), but as a shockingly huge creature the size of which I didn’t know Alabama possessed, she was a beauty.

I tweeted a picture to my favorite wildlife expert @AlongsideWild who directed me to his BSF (best spider friend) @Cataranea who identified and sent me information on her: She is a Fishing Spider. As in, she catches and eats FISH.

How incredible is that?

Furthermore, she can walk on water despite her enormous size, and while she has her egg sack, she doesn’t eat the entire time because she’s actually holding that egg sack in her jaw. Eventually, she creates a nursery web and puts her egg sack in it for the final incubation / infanthood, so although she’s an exceptionally good spider mom, she’s not into the whole attachment parenting thing. But she does stand guard until they emerge from the egg sack.

I know, I know. Some of you are going to be very upset with me for subjecting you to unrequested massive spider pictures. But nature is fascinating. Even when it’s scary. There’s no reason to not appreciate all of it. No need to be brave enough to pick it up – it doesn’t want to be picked up anyway. Just observe and study in wonder.

(At least that’s what I’m trying to teach my kids.)

(But you can still hate me if you need to.)

Here’s Ali’s report about fossil hunting:

For those of you studying Alabama History along with us, we’re also doing a lot of reading and book reports to go with our field trips. Here’s a fantastic list created by my friend Carla Jean Whitley of high-quality children’s books about Alabama History:

She put a lot of time into scouring the libraries and finding books that were well-written and thought-provoking, so be sure to save her article for future study reference.