Rachel Callahan

What I’ve Been Up To: An Update on Picture Birmingham.

July 18, 2016July 20, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

If I’ve seemed not quite as present this summer, it’s because I’ve been working quite feverishly on restarting my other project, Picture Birmingham.

It’s not that I ever quit, really – or at least I didn’t quit taking pictures. But since the wreck (I know – like ancient history, right??) and resulting 5.5 months of recovery and Physical Therapy, I haven’t been able to devote myself to the actual project, which is selling said photographs in order to give 100% of the profits to The WellHouse. Picture Birmingham takes a lot of time and upkeep, and unfortunately, during that half a year, it was one of the first things that got abandoned for lack of time and energy.

And then, after my recovery, you may remember that I went a little manic. All I wanted to do was get outside and explore and LIVE again. And so, for a few more months, Picture Birmingham got put aside.

At the beginning of the summer, though, I felt very convicted to get it started back up. I so wanted to support The WellHouse – they’re in the middle of some big changes, like moving their facilities, and I know they need all the help they can get. And they do such amazing, mind-blowing work. They rescue slaves. Women and children. From being sold for sex. And not only do they rescue them, but they protect them, help them find healing, provide for them, give them the opportunity for a new education and life, and most of all, show them what love really is.

I want to be behind that. I need to be behind that.

And so, I started to try and catch up. Getting my site updated, my spreadsheets balanced, new prints created, new note card sets made, and designing all kinds of new photo products that had been in the back of my mind but just hadn’t made it into production.

And so, I just wanted to give y’all an update with what all has recently been added at Picture Birmingham, in case you’re interested in being a part.

A coupon: just for you – you can use the code “summerjoy” in the Picture Birmingham online shop to take 20% off of your total purchase – because I love you and I’m super grateful for all of your support on this journey with me. This coupon is good until July 31.

New Products: So I’m pretty excited about all these new photo products I’ve created. They’re actually functional and don’t require frames! Coasters, notebooks, bookmarks, phone cases, and postcards. The coasters are my personal favorite, though.

All of these items can be special ordered with any of my images.

New Note Card Sets: I’ve just released three brand new sets of 12 note cards that represent three different parts of our state – Birmingham, Alabama’s beauty, and Alabama’s flowers.

As always, the note cards are printed on the same thick, artisan paper that we use for my prints, so they make a great gift. Here are the images on the new set of Birmingham Note Cards:

The new Alabama set focuses on some of the things that make our state unique, along with our beautiful lakes and rivers:

And the first floral collection includes some of our most beautiful blooms – from the ultra rare Cahaba Lily to the ever-common “interstate weed,” Queen Anne’s Lace. It includes Mountain Laurel, Bradford Pear, Japanese Cherry Trees, and more. This is a great collection for anyone that is not necessarily connected to Alabama.

All eight sets of note cards can be found here. Note cards can also be special ordered for businesses, corporations, or any type of special set with or without private branding on the back – just email me at rachel@picturebirmingham.com for details.

New Prints: I’ve gotten out to take some specific pictures I’ve been after lately, and these are now available as prints, canvases, metal prints, or really whatever you want me to make them into. Here are some of my favorites:

This brand new picture of The Alabama Theatre accompanied by the spectacular work of the Blank Spaces Mural Project may be my new favorite image of our city. It embodies the old and new that is currently being beautifully mixed together to beautify and celebrate Birmingham.

This beautiful gate above Birmingham has always fascinated me, and it’s never more stunning than late spring. The views available of our city are so unique and captivating – not all cities have a cliff right above their skyline, you know.

I captured this photo of Railroad Park a few days ago. I have so many pictures from this angle, but the clouds in this one really stole my heart.

I got special permission from Vulcan to offer this photo for sale, my one and only Vulcan shot available. I can either print it portrait or landscape, although I prefer portrait. It also looks pretty amazing on a metallic metal print, as well.

I started this project as a sunset photographer, and every summer I get one sunset that becomes my new favorite. Here is this summer’s favorite sunset.

My new favorite way to print all of my pictures is on free-floating metal prints. It looks crisp, modern, and is super easy to hang. I do not, however, have this option updated everywhere on the site, yet – but just email me if you’d like one and can’t find the option.

In Person: There’s a Fantabulous Summer Sale at Naked Art starting last Friday night and going through August 27th. Art from all kinds of local artists will be on sale from 10% – 50% off, and my art will be from 10% – 30% off. I have all of my new and old products there for the sale, so it’s definitely a good place to go and browse!

I’m basically taking up half of this room right now, so I’m sure they’d appreciate it if you came and took some off their hands.

Here’s a complete list of where you can see my work around Birmingham, if you’re more of a shop-in-person kind of human:

Naked Art: prints, canvases, metal prints, phone cases, notebooks, note cards, coasters, bookmarks.
Smith’s Variety: note cards, postcards, notebooks
Alabama Goods: Bookmarks
Vulcan Gift Shop (coming soon): postcards, note cards
Silvertron Cafe: Metal Prints Collection (for sale via Naked Art next door)
John’s City Diner: Large-scale Canvas Collection (private dining room; not for sale but can be reordered.)

If you have any questions or special order requests, email me anytime at rachel@picturebirmingham.com.

Thank you for all of your support over the years, and also for being patient with me here while I’m spending more of my time at Picture Birmingham!

What was Said at Arby’s.

July 14, 2016July 14, 2016 Rachel Callahan Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club, Weird Strange and True

WHY ARE CRAZY PEOPLE ATTRACTED TO ME.

Like, for reals. If I had to rate myself on a scale of Super Approachable to “Hazardous Area – Stay Away”, I’d be on the “Nuclear Waste – Clear the Area” end of things. Not by choice or plan – I just think my resting unapproachable face scares people away.

But not the crazy people. For them, I’m like an out of context bible verse Facebook meme. I’m like aluminum foil and newspaper clippings. They can’t help but be drawn to me.

Today, I took my children to Arby’s, because I told Ali that she got to pick where we’d eat lunch because we were leaving the Orthodontist and she had a sore mouth. Furthermore, I broke one of my highly held tenets of my Motherhood Theology (my expanded Motherhood Statement of Beliefs and Doctrine will be coming soon to a post near you) and actually took my children inside to eat at a fast food restaurant.

My justifications for this unpardonable sin were tri-fold: it was ridiculously hot outside, we had a bit of time to waste before an appointment, and I was hungry and therefore weak in the faith. I was ripe to be tempted. I was in the wilderness. And I failed.

So we went inside. I ordered our food, gave Ali her cup, fixed mine and Noah’s cup, and grabbed our order from the counter. Noah had already found us a table and was waiting calmly. This is one of those moments where I remember yet again that 9 and 5 are seriously good ages.

But yet, despite the general helpfulness and calmness of my children, as I was passing by a table of paint-splattered blue collar men, one looked up, gave a low whistle, and said, “My GOODNESS does she have her hands full.”

Now if he meant literally, I guess he was right. I had a tray in one hand and a drink in the other.

But people never mean that literally. They’re always talking about the fact that I did what people have been doing for centuries and actually gave birth to miniature humans, and was, in fact, not afraid to venture into the outside world with my inconceivably difficult lot in life.

Every time someone says this to me, I really feel the need to stop and tell them about my friends who have five, six, and even SEVEN children, in hopes of making them pass out right there in the middle of their roast beef sandwich.

But nevermind. That guy wasn’t the crazy person that this story is about.

A couple of bites into our lunch, I heard a raving voice. It was a very distinctive voice – kind of hoarse, but overly loud. A minute later, the voice rounded the corner.

It was an employee.

She walked up into Arby’s curious little mezzanine so that she was directly above our table. She leaned over the railing right above our food and yelled in her hoarse, carrying-across-the-restaurant voice.

“You have some good kids!”

“Thanks…” I tried to take a bite of my sandwich and move on.

Then she pointed to the table ten feet from us.

“Those over there aren’t good. There are too many of ‘em. They’re too much work. But you have some good kids!”

I tried to disappear into my sandwich unsuccessfully. She walked away, and I stole a glance over at the “bad” table.

It was a mom, a dad, a grandparent, and three little boys – a baby, a toddler, and a kid Noah’s age. One entire mini human more than I possessed. They were all sitting there quite calmly, eating their roast beef and trying to pretend they hadn’t just heard Arby’s Insane Employee Of the Decade.

While we ate, I tried to pay attention to the goings on at their table, looking for clues as to how I’d so easily risen above them in the Arby’s Circle of Excellence in Children.

I couldn’t figure it out. They had a 1:1 adult/kid ratio, the baby had a couple loud noises but nothing unexpected and not even anything that could be considered a cry. The toddler was sitting in his chair better than Noah was (who spent most of his meal sitting above his seat on the Mezzanine floor, resting against that gold barrier that had blessedly been strong enough to keep Batsoid from falling onto our table during her rant.

A few minutes went by, and Nutty Beeffessor was at another table ranting, again about the bad table.

“Somebody needs to tell that Momma and Daddy that those kids need to SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!!”

I looked over.

The kids WERE sitting down, and fairly shut up.

I was so confused.

Is this what too much Arby’s Sauce does to a person?

Or had too many people rung that bell at the door for good service and it had blown a circuit in her cerebellum?

Or….wait a minute…could she be seeing a table full of children that the rest of us couldn’t see?

This became my best theory.

In her head, the long table between me and the very quiet “bad” family was actually full of invisible brats – throwing chicken strips and squirting Horsey Sauce. They were screaming and jumping on the table top and practicing Pommel Horse on the sauce counter. They were walking that golden mezzanine railing like it was a tightrope, then falling off into people’s sandwiches!

It all made perfect sense now.

And could someone please sneak some antipsychotics into the Jamocha Shake machine?

How PokemonGo Will Make Your Momming Better.

July 12, 2016July 11, 2016 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year, The Blissfulness of Life

As I purposefully shy away from trends and adamantly avoid hopping on bandwagons, I was ripe to avoid PokemonGo completely.

But I saw potential. Potential for entertained kids and interesting hikes.

I mean, I’m pretty dang good at making hikes interesting. Sometimes we even find abandoned boobs! But despite how AMAZING I am, and despite the fact that they (almost) always enjoy it, my kids still whine and groan every time I say we’re going on a hike or a walk.

Sure it’s July in Alabama and 456 degrees outside. But still. Exercise makes Mommy feel better, kids. Get on board.

So. PokemonGo.

I downloaded the free app Monday morning. Noah was already downstairs but Ali had yet to emerge from her room. I told Noah, “Oh look! There’s a Pokemon in our front yard! Let’s go out and catch it.”

We ran outside and sure enough, there on my phone screen, we could see the front yard and a Pokemon sitting in it.

I hadn’t read any directions or helpful posts about how to catch Pokemon yet, so we failed miserably on our first hunt. Noah lost interest and wandered away to complain about breakfast options, and I sat down to read a Wiki.

OOOOHH….you swipe quickly with your finger. I can do this.

So I gathered Noah again and we went outside and caught ourselves a Pokemon.

After breakfast, I told the kids.

“We’re going on a Pokemon Hunt. Get your shoes on.”

Noah was thrilled, but Ali was skeptical. Usually my less whiny child, she had a problem with everything on this stroll. It was hot. It smelled bad outside. Where were the Pokemon? How long would this walk take?

Until.

We found our first Pokemon.

And she was the one who caught it.

Then it became the best walk we’d ever taken.

There were none on our street, but Not-Crazy-Renee’s street was teeming with them.

In fact, they seemed congregated around her house – perhaps they were attracted to her snake.

We came, we caught, and Noah even wore a couple Pokemon.

And it really was the most delightful neighborhood walk we’d ever taken.

Ali, Now PokemonGo’s biggest fan, began naming all the places she wanted to go hunt.

I bet Oak Mountain has 223 Pokemon! Oh! And Aldridge Gardens! There are plenty of places to look there. And Pop and Gramamma’s house. We could find all kinds of Pokemon in their woods!

We decided on Gramamma’s house. It would be a family service, after all, to help her with her Pokemon Infestation.

So we drove out and took Gramamma on a hike, teaching her about the game as we traversed.

See, you keep the app on your home screen, and it knows where you are, and you can click on the bottom right corner to see how close you’re getting to a Pokemon, and then when one shows up, you see it on the screen in the real world, and you’ve got to throw the ball at it to capture it.

We found the ever-frightening Zubat,

Ali slapped a Nidoran,

Gramamma got viciously attacked by the butt end of a Slowpoke,

And Shadow went after,

And then carried away, a Charmander.

We even checked the bridge – just to make sure it wasn’t covered in the monsters, you know.

While on the hike, we found real, live, actual cool things as well, thereby making it totally educational.

Colorful spiders,

Mushrooms,

And the ever-charismatic Lady of the Corn.

Anyone want to steal a veggie or two from her?

In total, we found another dozen or so at my parent’s house, therefore saving their property from the perils of loose Pokemon.

On the way home, we saw a PokeSpot and a PokeGym on the map, so we pulled off to get special rewards.

And, in the process, discovered the Alabama Veteran’s War Memorial.

And our PokemonGo experience became even more educational.

We talked about all the names and what they meant…

And why no, we could not take any of the flags. Geez kids.

And of course, when Chris got home, the first thing the kids wanted to do was go on a walk – to teach him how to play.

And so. In our first day’s journey of Pokemon catching, we:

– Hiked/walked a total of 5 miles four different places without a SINGLE KID COMPLAINT (at least after the first Pokemon was bagged.)

– Made it to Level 6 and joined Team Valor.

– Saw all kinds of actual nature (including a rabbit, too fast to be pictured.)

– Visited and learned about the Alabama War Memorial.

– Caught 53 Pokemon on my phone – I don’t know how many Chris caught.

– Took turns catching said Pokemon and cheered ridiculously loudly for each other when a successful catch was made.

– Ran my phone battery down four times. External chargers are a nice asset for heavy Pokemon hunting.

– Only tripped while staring at the phone screen a couple times. Each.

– And one fantastic diary entry was created via Ali, an entry that should be able to help if you’re still unsure how to play.

Well, you get the picture.

You’re welcome, Moms of the world. Your summer just got exceedingly better.

Love,

Rachel

The Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club: Corporate Edition.

July 11, 2016July 11, 2016 Rachel Callahan Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club, I'm a Glutton for Adventure

The Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club used to be my favorite bizarre occurrence to report on, garnering itself its own category on my blog. But now that my kids are older (the AIBC tends to be more magnetized to babies), it’s been a while since I’ve had a stranger tell me what I ought to do as a parent or that my kid isn’t being careful enough. From telling me that my baby is going to choke and die, to being very disturbingly inquisitive as to why my children aren’t in school, I’ve nearly missed the AIBC telling me what I can and can’t do.

But oh.

This week the AIBC went corporate. And it went corporate with flair.

I’m not a helicopter parent, nor am I a free-range parent. As in most areas of life, I fall somewhere in the murky in-between, or the “logical middle ground”, as I often like to think of myself with perhaps a smidge of superiority.

I have the personality of a paranoid parent mixed with the philosophy of a free-range parent, making me a strange and perfect hybrid. I almost always know where my kids are, but I am also more than happy to let them take risks while exploring their surroundings.

Sure! Climb that tree.

Want to jump on your bed? Why not?

Of course playground equipment is there for you to climb on top of and make the playground helicopter parents uncomfortable!

This philosophy of mine, however, is aided in its smashing success by the fact that I have two extremely over-cautious kids. They weigh risks, they take their time climbing on something risky, and they rarely get hurt. In fact, they get hurt way less than their mother.

All that to say…

We bought a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe a few years ago when Noah was younger. Over the life of the coupe, 80% of the usage it has seen has been on its roof – which apparently is way more entertaining to sit on than inside the car. I’ve watched both my kids climb on and off that roof so many times that I tend to forget that the car even has an interior. And, surprisingly, considering its tall proportions, the Cozy Coupe has never tipped over. That thing is sturdy. It’s bottom heavy, and it doesn’t even wiggle under the load of rooftop passengers.

So, this Spring when Noah decided that he was brave enough to climb up onto the car and then jump, I might’ve flinched the first jump or two, but I didn’t discourage him. He was good at it, he added his SuperNoah cape to the performance, and so I decided it deserved a slo-mo video.

It was even more fun when I took a still from the video, edited out my neighbor’s house and the Cozy Coupe, and presented it to Noah as his Superman photo.

Perhaps not quite as good as his Iron Man shot from a few years ago,

But that’s hard to beat.

So anyway.

The video, I felt, caught the essence of childhood – adventure, experimentation, thrill, and joy. Plus a really good excuse to use that House of Pain song.

Until I got shamed.

…Not by other mothers.

…Not by over-cautious grandmothers.

…Not even by those annoying non-parents that feel they have the right to tell parents what they should do – you know the type.

No.

Little Tikes themselves commented on my video, basically telling me that I needed to be a better overprotective parent.

Seriously.

Seriously??

Yes. The makers of Cozy Coupe themselves felt it best to warn me of the dangers of enjoying childhood, and also their product.

(For some reason the comment doesn’t show up every time for other users. Maybe they only wanted to privately shame me, not publicly. Maybe they were trying to give me the opportunity to secretly repent of my grievous parenting sins.)

I get that this was probably some legal move on their part to ensure that I couldn’t sue them if Noah broke his fingernail next time he tried this oh-so-dangerous trick, or perhaps to keep viewers from doing the same. But it’s not like this video had gone viral. It had a measly 115 views when they felt the need to parent my parenting.

It hurt, guys.

I flung myself on my MacBook and wept giant tears of sorrow from their between-the-lines accusations against me.

Okay maybe not. But I still felt like I needed a hashtag.

#FreeTheCoupe

#JumpTheCoupe

#CoziesAreForClimbing

And in protest, we should all have our children jump from their Cozy Coupes and share the videos on the internet. Flood the YouTubes with dangerous Little Tikes play, people*!!

And for Little Tikes, I offer this letter.

Dear Little Tikes,

First, I’d like to apologize for damaging your clearly quite fragile sensibilities of what childhood should look like.

I can only assume that your Social Media Monitoring Intern is a Millennial who was Helicoptered all the way up into his/her teens, only allowed to color, eat kale, knit beanies, and things equally as unhazardous.

Thanks for your concern over my parenting decisions. My kid is okay. I promise. If you think he’s not being careful, you really should meet his cousin Eli, who, if given 7 Cozy Coupes, would have them all stacked up in a Nice Cozy Totem Pole – and he would be the head at the top of the Cozy Totem – before you had time to finish your judgey comment. But besides that, please read this article about parenting and get back to me.

And in the meantime, let kids be kids. Or quit making toys and find a safer product line – like bean bags, maybe. Oh – no – someone could suffocate. How about microwavable containers? Nope – someone might get their finger pinched in the lid. Perhaps water bottles? Oh wait! e.Coli might grow in them.

You know what – you might just want to quit making things.

Sincerely,

Rachel
#FreeTheCoupe

* Rachel assumes zero liability for broken hair follicles or anything more severe from her clearly quite hazardous advice. After all, Rachel is a bad mother and should not be listened to. Just ask Little Tikes. However, if your kid actually finds joy and excitement from jumping off their Cozy Coupe, they can write a thank you note to Rachel anytime.

What’s That Sound: Volume Seven

July 5, 2016July 5, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

I’m kinda sorta taking the week off from writing because much is going on and it’s a holiday week and I feel like a vacation. But I figured I’d let Noah do the writing instead. So here’s a collection of his recent musings…

We were playing restaurant.

Noah asked, “What would you like?”

“Chocolate Cheesecake.”

“We don’t have that. But we have Ninja Turtle Cake.”

“Ninja Turtle Cake? Is it good?”

“Uh Huh. It tastes like chicken.”

So apparently, that joke is inherent in the experience of humanity…

In response to some sort of playful threat I made against him, he informed me… “I would be madder than a sheriff on a skunk’s butt.”

In response to a particularly good firework… “Oh my goodness! That one REALLY burned my rope.”

I can only assume that Noah is going to grow up to be a Colloquialism Creator.

“I’ve been counting in my head for forever to get to infinity but I’m not there yet.”

“Well. Good thing you’re only five. You have plenty of time left.”

Leaving the kids with the Grandparents, I said the words I was expected to say..

“We sure are going to miss y’all!!”

Ali: “I’ll miss you too!”

Noah: “I sure am glad they have wi-fi because it would be TERRIBLE to go without that.”

Guess which kid is going to take care of us when we’re old. Not this one.

“Your butt smells like flowers.”

“It’s not nice to tell people what their butt smells like.”

“Well you still smell like flowers. Hey Ali! Mommy smells like flowers!”

Noah: “My life is awesome without shoes!”

“What??”

“I couldn’t find any before we left.”

…His life was promptly less awesome when he stepped out onto 95 degree Alabama June asphalt.

“Wait. How much money was in your wallet before??”

Noah: “Seven dollars, including the $10 bill.”

“Are you doing a good job cleaning up??”

“I read a lot.”

The excuse of literateness strikes again. (And also, he cannot read yet.)

Noah woke up and asked where Chris was.

“You forgot Daddy had a race this morning? How could you forget that?”

(shakes his head and sighs…) “It was a long night.”

Regarding Independence Day fireworks, Noah said to Ali, “They were awesomer than going to Mexico!”

Ali: “But you’ve never been to Mexico…”

Noah: “Yeah but I bet they were.”

After I opened a box of Little Bites for Noah, I tried to get my appropriate thanks by saying, “How awesome am I?!”

“Awesomer than a Cheetah in a bowl of soaking hot water.”

So there you go. I’m pretty sure that’s seriously awesome.

Printables for Your Summer Sanity

June 29, 2016July 9, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

Summer is in full force. Even for those weird people who don’t get out of school until the middle of June.

And it’s no Summer Break for Moms.

I get it. I really do.

Even though I homeschool and therefore am home with my kids all year long, summer adds its own set of painful complications.

…lack of structure.

…more time to be bored.

…later bedtimes.

…kids somehow entirely forget how to play without Mom leading the way. (“This is what you do with Lego. HOW DO YOU FORGET WHAT TO DO WITH LEGO?!”)

…Camps and pools and summer fun leads to whining and boredom and summer unfun when at the deeply resented place of residence.

…IT IS HOT OUTSIDE.

As it is 500 degrees outside and most of the things I enjoy doing with my children take place outside (I’m never going to be the playing, crafting, make-believe mom – I admit it), we’re seriously cooped up. So I’m trying to be productive and get stuff done, and they’re bored because how do we play again??

So yes, summer can be a bit taxing on the Mother’s health.

In an effort to put salve on my wounds, I went back to a joint project that you and I did around Christmas (another Mommy-taxing time), and decided it was time to create some encouraging printables.

To help us all in our jobs.

To bring us joy and arm us with the tools we need to thrive.

And so, I present to you, some strikingly gorgeous artwork that I made for us all to share. Lettering, some might call it. Edification, others might say. A way for us to all take hold of one another’s hands and walk through this life in sisterhood.

Here it is, all of our contributions to the great cause of having a full arsenal of kid-safe, yet satisfying, curse words.

But I was having too much fun to just pick one font and layout, so I made several – because we all have different needs and tastes, and one might suit you better than another.

Plus, the more you read them, the more you’ll have them ready, on the tip of your tongue, for the next time one of your kids announces that they’re so bored they’ll die.

Or when one of them starts crying because they tripped over the insanely ridiculous mess that they left in the middle of the living room floor a week ago.

Or when you realize that your children have 26 library books that are all two weeks overdue.

Or when you’re alllll packed up and ready to go to the pool, from the sunscreen to the swim diapers, and you hear thunder.

Or when you just finished cleaning the kitchen when a kid ravages the fridge for their leftover Ring Pop (why did they have to put it in the fridge, one might wonder?) and in the process, knocks an entire dozen eggs into the floor.

Or when you realize that somebody got into your secret school supplies stash, found a brand new box of Crayolas, and left them on the sidewalk – where they’re now permanently melted and ready to make the elderly postman slip and break both his hips.

Or when you just need a day off. Or a week. Or a summer.

If you would like to print one or more of these gorgeous visuals to aid you in your summer survival, here’s a link to my beautiful, fancy, easily printable word bubbles.

But wait! I didn’t stop there!

I know that so many of us Moms find no greater joy than being able to check things off of our To-Do list. So for you, I present, the checklist version:

To print yourself an entire notepad of these, or just one, here’s a link to the printable checklist.

I love you all. May your summer be filled with…wait a minute…WHAT DID NOAH JUST SPILL?!?!?! Son of a Motherless Goat….

The Trouble With Elbows.

June 27, 2016July 9, 2016 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

I have a doctor. I really love him. He listens to me, he remembers me and all my particular anomalies visit to visit, he diagnoses me properly and treats me accordingly, and he’s off on Thursdays and the weekends.

I always get sick or injured on Thursdays or the weekends.

Chris does not have a doctor. He’s that obnoxious healthy type that has cost our family unit approximately .05% of my medical costs over the life of our marriage, and on those rare moons that he does need a doctor, he just goes to our local Urgent Care clinic (not an ER, just an after-hours walk-in clinic.) And he’s a fan.

“Why don’t you just go there? They always get me in and out – with a shot and prescription and I’m all better! It’s so quick! They’re so helpful!”

And I always buy it.

But every single time, the dimension in which my husband exists and my dimension take a sharp wishbone-shaped deviance from one another as soon as I walk into the doors of what I refer to as MedHell.

After my girl’s trip which included my unfortunate trail running – or rather trail falling – incident, I went there to get x-rays and make sure nothing was broken.

After waiting an hour and a half, and everyone else being taken care of, I walked back up to the desk, my footsteps echoing in the empty tomb.

“Um, did I miss my name being called?”

“YOU ARE STILL IN THE LOBBY?? Huh. Let me see what happened. Oh…it looks like you got skipped between me putting your sticker on this page and your chart getting pulled. I’ll get them to get you back soon.”

Thirty more minutes…and I finally made it in a room.

I was relieved, though, when the doctor came back from studying my x-rays and said that my elbow was fine (probably just sprained,) but my finger was broken.

Also confused. Because my elbow didn’t feel fine. In fact, it felt much less fine than my finger. I still couldn’t bend it, it was swollen in all sorts of ways including one perplexing poky-outy spot, and the bruising over the next few days gave me the distinct impression that my arm had been replaced with a pair of questionable emojis.

But I decided to give it some time and let it heal. Maybe this is what a sprain feels and looks like.

After three weeks, I still couldn’t straighten my arm all the way, and certain movements were sharp and painful. It was waking me up once or twice a night when I’d shift positions. So I decided it wouldn’t hurt to see an orthopedic doctor.

I called to make an appointment, and the receptionist stressed that I needed to bring my x-rays with me when I came.

My appointment was at 3pm on Thursday. I remembered that I needed my x-rays at 9am. This shouldn’t be hard. MedHell is a well-oiled machine, or so my husband says. I should be able to get them easily enough.

This is how that went down.

9:00am: I called MedHell. “Hi. I need to get a copy of my x-rays. Can you prepare them and I’ll come pick them up?”

“No, you need to come in and fill out paperwork requesting them. Then we can prepare them.”

Okay. My plan was to run first, but I calculated my day and I had plenty of time to procure my pictures afterward.

10:15am: Showed up to MedHell. “Hi. I need to get a copy of my x-rays. Can I have the paperwork to fill out?”

“Oh there’s no paperwork. I’ll ask the x-ray department to prepare them. Just have a seat in the waiting room.”

This seemed both promising and scary. She made it sound easy to get these magical documents, but I am also well aware that their waiting room is my own personal Bermuda Triangle.

I wasn’t wrong.

11:00am: I had exhausted my Twitter feed and my butt was getting sore. I knew everything I ever didn’t want to know about Brexit, thanks to the blaring news channel on the wall. I walked back up to the front desk.

“Hi. I’m the one here just to pick up my x-rays. Can I just come back and pick them up later? I’ve been waiting 45 minutes.”

“They haven’t brought your x-rays out yet? Huh. Sure – you can do that.”

Before I left, I dropped by the waiting room bathroom.

MISTAKE.

Never go to the Urgent Care bathroom unless it’s URGENT.

It smelled overwhelmingly of dog vomit that had been festering in a veterinarian’s dumpster. I accidentally made eye contact with the trash can and saw the paper towels used to clean up the tragedy.

Walked out of the bathroom while bathing myself in Purell.

11:05am: As I was walking out of the office, the receptionist called me.

“Ma’am! They’re printing your x-rays now if you’d like to wait a few more minutes.”

“Okay..”

I sat back down in The Triangle.

11:40am: I walked back up to the front desk. She sees me and says “They haven’t brought them out to you yet??”

“No.”

“Let me go check.”

She comes back five minutes later.

“What had happened was they can’t get the machine to work. If you’d like, you can drive to our Lakeshore office and see if their machine works.”

No. This “Machine” had definitely taken a year off my life. And I’d put money on the guy running it possessing six fingers on his right hand.

“Can you email them?”

“No.”

“Can you fax them?”

“No.”

“Can you sketch them real quick on the back of an envelope?”

“No.”

“Can you call the Lakeshore office and get them to prepare it so they’re ready when I arrive?”

“Let me see…they’re not answering. Hold on.”

She left and came back five minutes later.

“They printing it right now at Lakeshore.”

It was 11:45. I had a meeting at 12:30 on the other side of town. If I drove to Lakeshore, picked it up, and immediately sprinted out the door, I could make it.

I don’t know why I believed this plan could work, but I did. I am a closet optimist underneath all my cynicism. And I needed closure – I needed victory – I needed to be done with MedHell.

12:00pm: Made it to Lakeshore. Ran in, breathless.

“He’s working on it. Have a seat in our waiting room.”

While I waited, I Google mapped my meeting destination. Only 12 minutes away. I had to leave by 12:18pm.

12:15pm: Walked back up the desk. “Is he still working on it? I have somewhere I have to be…”

She did not check with their Count Rugen before answering me. She just snapped. “He’s WORKING on it!”

“Okay. I will come back later.”

I left for my meeting, knowing that I’d have to do quite the sprint between the meeting and my 3pm appointment to have time to pick up my x-rays. But surely. SURELY. If I gave Lakeshore two hours to “work on it”, SURELY they could get me four measly pictures of the inside of my arm.

2:13pm: Left my meeting, called The Chamber of Death. “Just making sure my x-rays are ready!”

“Hold on a minute – I know there were problems.”

Hold…hold…hold…

“Yeah, he’s having problems with the machine and said to call back in 10 minutes.”

Who knew X-Ray printing machines were the McDonald’s Milkshake machines of the medical industry?!

“Okay well I’m on my way there and will be there in about 10 minutes and have to have these x-rays for a 3pm appointment. I’ll just hope for the best.”

Really Rachel!? More like nope for the best.

2:30pm: Arrive at Lakeshore.

“Are my x-rays ready?”

“Hold on.”

(Comes back after five minutes.)

“Yeah so…our machine is also broken. A repairman came and he just left to get a part if you want to wait.”

“I have a 3pm appointment elsewhere. Can you not email these to my doctor?”

“My name is no.”

“Fax??”

“My sign is no.”

“Cell phone pic?”

“My number is no.”

2:40pm: I had to let it go.

3:00pm: Arrive at Ortho doc, explain apologetically to the receptionist that after trying diligently from 9am-2:30pm, I failed at procuring my x-rays.

They took my back to x-ray and created a new set in 30 seconds.

I beat my head against the iron skirt and cursed myself for so bludgeoning my day with MedHell.

I saw the doctor, and he said he didn’t see a break. He prodded and twisted my arm and asked which movements made me want to punch him with my good arm, and then said, “I actually think your elbow does have a fracture in the radial head. Let’s get you back to x-ray for one more look.”

4:00pm: Another x-ray.

4:15pm: Doctor triumphantly marched in with a picture.

“We FOUND the fracture!!!”

Hooray.

“See? Here it is right here.”

“This actually should have been hurting you. A LOT. You should have been in a brace for the first three weeks. Let’s see…how long has it been? Three weeks! Well the good news is you’re through the worst of it!”

He sent me home with the biggest load of swag I’ve ever gotten from a doctor’s office (including a copy of my x-ray without me even asking) and a prescription to go see my Physical Therapist for another six weeks.

And the not-at-all surprising conclusion of this whole story is….

Shocker!

MedHell’s original diagnosis of my just-sprained-elbow was totally wrong.

But since I’m a closet optimist, let’s look at the bright side! I got through the first three weeks of having a broken elbow without having to know about it.

Diary of A Tired Mom: Uncomfortable Truths.

June 22, 2016June 22, 2016 Rachel Callahan Diary of a Tired Mom, Quirky quirky quirkiness, Utter Silliness

This post felt like I’d taken two familiar genres and thrown them into a smoothie together: my Diary of a Tired Mom posts, and my friend Katherine’s madly fantastic Uncomfortable Truths, which has 66 volumes (and counting.) Be sure to read hers, because they’re delightfully more uncomfortable than mine.

Although my elbow and shoulder (and finger) are slowly recovering, they’re still annoying. I mean, it is my left hand. And I am left-handed. But way more annoying than having three separate injuries on my dominant arm is the fact that it is also my drive-thru arm. It’s hard enough to be a professional Chick-Fil-A Speed Receiver – but try doing it with only one arm.

My game has been decimated.

(Seriously. Next time you’re at the drive-thru, try doing all transactions with your right arm. It’ll make you appreciate the left side of your body so much more richly.)

(And anyway. Who needs to actually write with a pen in this day and age anyway. The ability to accept fast food is way more crucial.)

The British add a lot of unnecessary letters, right? (I get that the US of A became a nation a couple years after the United Kingdom but spelling wasn’t normalized until we were both around so I blame them for saying “yeah, let’s shove all those extra letters in.”)

There’s labour and flavour and colour and foetus.

But the most disturbing of all extra letters the British chose to keep is in a word already fraught with unnecessary characters.

Without a doubt, it goes to diarrhoea.

Somehow this unfortunate British spelling got stuck in my head and that extra o – a round circle surrounded by two cheeks of burgeoning letters – haunts me. And every time I mentally say diarrhea, (which is more often than I’d like thanks to having two children and a husband and being human and all,) I also add the o in there, mentally saying dia-ROY-a, as I imagine a countryside British farmhand would say.

“This ‘ere mare’s got tha dia-ROY-a again. Best be givin’ a ring to Doc Herriot.”

I recently had the joy of possessing a rather stubborn UTI. After a couple rounds of antibiotics, I went to the doctor, where they loaded me up with drugs – both the antibiotic and the UTI kinds. As she handed me samples of the UTI drugs, she said, “Now don’t be alarmed – this WILL turn your urine a bright blue.”

Well THAT’S different. I mean, AZO is entertaining enough, with it’s orange-maroon color (which incidentally looks just like the colors of the Virginia Tech Hokies – the students should all take AZO as a show of team support before football games.)

But BLUE. Not everyone gets the opportunity to pee blue.

When I actually experienced this fascinating phenomenon, I realized something: I could choose to not flush and other people would think I’d just finished thoroughly cleaning my toilet bowl. Because nothing feels fresher than sitting down at a toilet full of bright blue water, right?

It was like a magic pill! That made it look like I’d done a chore! Where can I get pills to make it look like I did the dishes more than twice a week? Or perhaps a pill that hid the crumbs my kids so expertly and efficiently spread across my floors? Someone needs to be researching these possibilities right away.

(Disclaimer: I didn’t actually not flush. But it totally looked Mr. Clean up in there.)

I’ve been wondering if I’ve contracted ADD. If I have, I suspect that one day they’ll discover there’s a risk of ADD contraction from being on Twitter. So many subjects. So many conversations. So many news articles. All jumbled together. Making your brain change lanes every 140 characters.

It’s a lot.

I was such a focused person in my school days, and even in my career days (which thankfully ended before the mainstream adoption of social media.) I could sit in class and take notes for HOURS and adore it. There was nothing I liked better than a perfect, neat, organized, outlined page of handwritten notes. It was a type of beauty I could appreciate.

But now, my brain is different.

I can’t take notes.

And definitely can’t sit still and listen.

However, I’ve found coping mechanisms. The downside to my coping mechanisms is that it makes me look like an unruly seven-year-old. But I swear it works. If I sit in church and take “notes” like this, I hear every single word of the sermon – and am able to process and even meditate on it.

But the second I quit my line art because I started feeling bashful about all of the eyes around me that could get a brief look at my notes and and say “mm, mm, mm,” while shaking their heads on the inside, I don’t hear another word. My mind wanders to the randomest of places. Like writing this blog post.

So, dear people around me in church, and Pastor if you have really good eyes, please know – if I’m coloring, I’m listening. And maybe those coloring kids are, too.

“We have a reservation. For fifteen.”

It was Father’s Day. I was in an extremely busy restaurant, trying to snag our family table before the staff was overrun with families celebrating their Dads. I was too late – I waited at the hostess station for ten minutes, and our food wait was over an hour and thirty minutes. But I say all this to go ahead and excuse myself for what I didn’t do.

Noah needed to pee. Right away. I sent him and Ali in the Ladies’ room together, instructing her to not leave without him.

Way too long went by, all while I was still standing at the hostess station.

Finally, I saw Ali open the door. And hold it open. And hold it open.

He must be taking FOREVER to wash his hands, I thought.

Then she closed the door.

I was worried. What would I do if the hostess was ready for me to follow her deep into the bowels of the restaurant and my children hadn’t made it back yet?

Ugh. WHAT is taking him so long?!

A minute later, as the hostess was gathering our fifteen menus to seat us, Ali reappeared, and Noah followed her out.

They walked up to me as I began following the hostess.

“Noah couldn’t get his stall door unlocked.”

“Ah!”

“So he had to crawl underneath the door.”

“Uh?”

“Yeah! I had to get on my hands and knees and crawl under the door to escape!”

“Um.”

“I tried to help him but I couldn’t.”

“Did you wash your hands really good?”

“Yes! I used three lumps of soap.”

And I kept walking.

So I’m sorry, Manager-Who-Had-To-Figure-Out-How-To-Get-That-Stall-Door-Unstuck later that night. I had semi-plans to crawl back under myself and undo my son’s issue. (After I ate. Because ew.)

But then I had to wait an hour and a half for my food. And by the time I was able to wrangle my kids out of your restaurant, I had totally forgotten about your jammed door. Even though Noah returned once during the meal, crawling back under the stall door, to look for his lost bible. Because what good is there in Gideoning up a bathroom stall that can’t even be accessed?

Making a Roadkiller

June 20, 2016August 30, 2016 Rachel Callahan Fun With Roadkill, Uncategorized

A Guest Post by Chief Editor and Husband, Chris.

Roadkill is a 2016 thing for us. Rachel and I look for it. We photograph it. We share it. We analyze it. We grade it qualitatively. In some instances, we decorate it.

Runs are always good opportunities to find it. Recently, I was out for a run on a well worn, weekly route. I’ve done this route hot, cold, dry, wet, light, dark, and every combination. These sorts of routine training runs are best done in the company and conversation of others.

I was with two people on this occasion. To protect their identities, let’s call them Macey and Rick.

So we were running. And talking about running. And talking about working out. Macey and I pulled ahead of Rick and chatted away.

Then we rounded a curve and saw it.

** Stop here if you’re squeamish. You have been warned. **

In the middle of the road, a squirrel was slowly crawling across the road. His hind legs and tail were pancake flat, and his front legs were dragging his wounded body. It was soul-crushing to see the poor creature trying so hard to move.

Macey stopped. “We have to do something!!”

I said nothing. In shock, I kept running for a few seconds. But then a blue and white Mini Cooper came toward us, and I knew what I had to do. I flagged it down in true emergency fashion, and the nice lady inside had her window down and listened to my frantic plan.

“This squirrel has been run over, but it’s still alive. We need you to run over it and put it out of its misery.”

She nodded and went with my plan instantly. Like this was her day job – crushing woodland creatures for strangers.

Before we could implement my emergency plan, a utility truck came up behind us – the kind with high metal racks that look like they do important stuff.

Okay, I said, let’s see if they hit him.

Macey, Mini Cooper, and I watched in frozen silence as the truck rolled gingerly over our wounded friend without helping at all.

Back to Plan A.

Macey: “I can’t look.”

Mini: “Make sure I’m lined up.”

Me: “Ok. A little to the left. That’s it.”

The crunch was unexpected and awful. Like stepping on an open bag of pretzels.

Me: “You got it! Thank you!”

Mini drove away.

Quickly, Macey and I ran away, in a somber moment of silence. But just a moment.

Macey: “You were gonna keep going weren’t you.”

Absolutely I was.

Me: “It took me a few seconds to decide what to do. And then I saw the Mini Cooper. And I had I plan. I mean, it’s not like I was gonna beat it with a rock. And it’s not like we were gonna put it in a shoebox and nurse it back to health. Nobody wants rabies.”

Macey: “We’ll just agree to disagree on that one.”

I’ve been married long enough to know when to quit discussing. This was when to quit.

Me: “So, about working out…” and off we ran.

But between you and me, there’s a Kevorkian Code with nature, right? Wild animals not protected by law, like for instance, suburban squirrels, have a standing DNR. Something like, “Do not leave me unable to climb trees, chase ladies, and forage for nuts. Just take me out.”

So judge me if you like. Do the mod thing and take great offense. Rake me over the coals.

But deep down inside, in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that road. You need me on that road. So I’d prefer you just said thank you. Because I ordered the Code Red.

Short Stories From A Busy Week.

June 15, 2016 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year

On Saturday, we went on the newish-annual Road Rally.

This isn’t new for my family, as my Dad has driven in epic road rallies (like, China-to-Paris epic) and has created many slightly-less-epic road rallies for different groups pretty much our entire life. But last year was the first year he revived the practice to share it with our Sunday School classes.

It’s the most fun you can have on a Saturday morning.

When in creative mode, he and my Mom spend countless hours concocting a course on sometimes harrowing back roads (there was one road…that was decisively one-lane…but was meant for both directions of traffic…and containing many hairpin turns. And of course I had to meet a car coming the other way on that hairpin turn. Newsflash: I still have last-year’s-wreck PTSD.)

The way my Dad’s Road Rallies work is…

– You don’t know where you’re going,

– You don’t know how long it will take to get there,

– But you get penalized for being more than three minutes early or five minutes late.

He hands out directions and an overall average speed that you should shoot for, and from that, you must derive your arrival time. Oh – and all while answering sometimes very tricky scavenger hunt clues along the way (which is the fun part.)

This year, Chris had already signed up for a half marathon, so Not-Crazy-Renee was going to go with me (which would have, I’m certain, created a new Not-Crazy-Renee story), but her kids just had to get sick. So instead, we had an in-family insanely complex distribution of children, drivers, and navigators, as follows:

– I drove. My sister-in-law was my navigator. One of her children went with my Dad as a rally organizer helper, one of her children went with my Mom as a rally co-organizer helper, and one of her children rode with us. I had my two kids. And we had a two-year-old I’d never laid eyes on in my entire life – let’s call him Johnny. Mostly because his name was Johnny.

– My brother drove. My brother’s navigator was his friend, coincidentally the father to Johnny. They took my brother’s two-seater convertible, cruising along the back roads with the wind gently massaging their scalps. While we had four kids, one of whom said, less than a mile into the rally, “Hey how much longer is this gonna take because I’m getting bored.”.

– It is also worth noting that the reason my brother’s friend came along is so he could give his wife the day off. I would like to make sure that it is noted, dear Johnny’s mom, to not give Johnny’s dad complete credit for your day off. Although Johnny was a complete gem and adorable rallying companion, I had Johnny for 3 hours and 20 minutes of your day off while Johnny’s father was riding around in a topless car getting his hair tickled by the wind.

Now that we got that out of the way, spoiler: WE BEAT THE CONVERTIBLE DADS.

And yes, we got extra points for our tiny baggage (1 extra point per kid under 7 and 1 penalty for each kid over 7, giving a total of 2 extra points), but WE EVEN BEAT CONVERTIBLE DADS WITHOUT OUR EXTRA POINTS.

Because we’re spectacular.

(For the record, we came in second place.)

(But all that mattered was beating the convertible dads.)

By the way, if I can find the time, I’m considering creating a road rally that maybe would take the course of some of my favorite Instagram spots. Who local would be interested in participating?

______

Thanks to my little tumble last week, I currently look like the cover of a Trail Running Magazine. Or at least what the cover of a Trail Running magazine SHOULD look like, if they were honest.

“You too can look like me – with a little trail running experience. And by little I mean VERY LITTLE.”

All of the bruising, which I am indeed proud of, is actually from internal injuries – that part of my arm did not hit the ground.

Which makes me all the prouder.

…Because if I’m going to be injured, I might as well find something to get excited about.

(My elbow is feeling much better, although my physical therapist says my professional baseball career is over. My shoulder is slowly getting better. There are two directions that it gets VERY ANGRY about bending. One of them being the angle one must assume to take a shirt off. So that’s convenient.)

As far as my finger, the only thing I actually broke, it’s fiiiiiine. Other than being faced with the perplexing dilemma of what one does if they accidentally dip the tip of their finger splint in the toilet while they still have 8 days left of wearing said splint.

(A hefty scrubbing of antibacterial soap is what one does, in case you wondered.)

(Feel free to decline any dinner invitations to my house until I get my splint off next week.)

_____

I republished one of the only posts I ever deleted. It was a jewel – I just published it “too soon” originally, and deleted it two hours later out of fear/guilt. If you missed it originally (or if you just wanted to re-read it), you can give it a go here.

_____

Ali was disturbed when she realized her little brother had more wealth than her.

She wants to make money. This is very crucial to her long range plan of being very very rich.

So she asked me if I could please think of jobs she could do to make money.

I mean, I can give her all the normal kid jobs of unloading the dishwasher and sweeping, but more importantly, I’m thinking…

– Bring me breakfast in bed for the summer, .50 tip per day (.75 if you deliver it with a small piece of chocolate.)

– Learn how to perform a proper back massage and foot massage via YouTube, practice daily on your mother – .25 per massage.

– Read some parenting books and figure out how to get your little brother out of his narcissistic phase – $25, plus the added bonus of having a more personable little brother.

– Research recipes on Pinterest, create grocery lists, and teach yourself how to cook – $7 per meal.

– Write quality and original blog posts – $5 per post.

She’s already working on a prototype spreadsheet to track her receivables – clearly we still have some fee negotiations to handle.

But regardless, my summer is going to be AMAZING.