Rachel Callahan

The Potentiality of Being Eliminated.

December 8, 2014December 7, 2014 Rachel Callahan Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life

This is just urban legend…rumors passed down from generation to generation…

But I’ve heard that there are those that have their Christmas Card recipient list printed out, ready to receive their reciprocal Season’s Greetings. Each card that comes in gets checked off the list – approved to be bestowed upon the next year with yet another Christmas card.

But if, by the 24th of December (or the first of January if they’re feeling especially charitable), there has not been a 100% reciprocity ratio, all remaining persons get Sharpied off the list with vengeance.

Single elimination.

No grace period.

The end.

If those who have had their Christmas card credit declined want to earn their way back onto The Most Holy of Christmas Card Lists, they must send Christmas cards two years in a row without receiving any such acknowledgement or affirmations for their actions.

Then, on the third year, they may again receive their due blessing of a card in return.

If this is actually true, then I shall get Sharpied this year. I’ve gone back and forth with myself, wrestling for a month. Changing my mind more than Prince changes his name.

Should I? Can I? Will I? Won’t I?

And I have finally decided.

I will not. Not this year.

This year, though wonderful, has delivered me to the doorstep of over-commitment with a decisive thud. Between Picture Birmingham and homeschooling second grade and taking Noah to preschool and blogging and accounting and Dysautonomia and running 100 miles a month to fight Dysautonomia, I am a complete slug by the end of every day.

And the process – OH THE PROCESS – of Christmas cards. The designing, printing, asking for your addresses, addressing, mailing, fretting, and stamping of Christmas Cards….I just can’t do it. I normally never know when to say when but I actually think this might be a when moment. So despite my Type A guilt, I am saying when – for this year, anyway.

We did, however, get family photos done.

So I shall share those. And you can pretend they’re printed on cardstock and addressed to you. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll earn a pass.

But if I get Sharpied, I do know that I deserve it, and I shan’t hold it against you.

Brian T. Murphy shot us again this year, who is really just beyond fantastic. And my kids love him, so that seriously helps.

(Although Noah was disappointed that Brian got a new motorcycle that wasn’t red. I’m not sure what he was thinking.)

But regardless of bike bitternesses, Brian can make my kids laugh.

And that’s what makes good photos.

Now, I’m not saying that I didn’t heavily bribe them to smile for pictures,

Because I totally did.

Photography without bribery is like baking a cake without butter – it’s not going to work and it’ll probably taste awful.

So why do that to yourself when for the promise of a few Squinkies and some Swedish Fish, you can have this level of participation?

But a photographer who can bring out the real laughter is also quite invaluable.

All of our pictures were taken at my parent’s house, so my Dad brought his motorcycle around as well. It at least has a red stripe, anyway.

Since Ali and Noah are experts at the trails of Grandkid Paradise, they gleefully ran us around the property to show us where they thought the best photography spots were hidden.

Ali had her heart set on the tire swing,

And we agreed – it was a perfect prop for photos.

So we joined her one by one,

And attempted our first family photo, heavily featuring Noah’s tongue.

Then the cousins arrived, and my Dad brought around his Model A – the one in which my parents drove A Lap of Alabama a couple of years ago.

As always, their personalities had no trouble shining through.

.
Some children needed to be turned upside down in order to catch their attention fully,

While others were too busy being introspective to look at cameras.

Finally, we attempted it. The first ever professionally taken Full Family Photo.

I know right. We’re amazing, It was the pinnacle of our parenting achievements thus far. And I absolutely adored how Noah was holding onto Tessa.

Brian just kept shooting the family in every way imaginable – my brother and his family,

My parents,

My other brother and his dog,

And the grandparents with their Grandkids. This may be one of my favorite pictures ever.

Or maybe this one.

Eventually, the kids began to wilt,

But my Dad offered the additional bribery of a ride,

And all was right in the world again.

So there you go.

Merry Christmas, and that was way more pictures than would have fit on 5×7 cardstock anyway.

But I am prepared to accept my Sharpie without bitterness, so mark me out if you must.

Don’t Text and Drive, But Feel Free to Garden.

December 3, 2014December 3, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, A Day in the Life, Weird Strange and True

My poor Flexi the Space Toaster is in the shop this week thanks to a busted water pump, which is entirely not at all cheap to fix.

While I wait for her luxury stay at the spa to pass, Chris got me a rental car.

It’s a Ford C-Max, which I had never heard of. Supposedly, he reserved me a mid-sized SUV, which, according to the category, would be a Jeep Liberty or Ford Escape or a similar model. But the lines have become as blurred between “compact car” and “SUV” and maybe even “minivan” as they have between “country music” and “pop” and maybe even “rap.”

I mean seriously. When Nissan can come out with a convertible SUV, we can be well assured that we’ve crossed all lines of decency as a nation.

But anyway.

Back to my current SUV/car thingy, whatever it is. It is also a hybrid. And, being the first hybrid that I’ve ever driven, it has taken a bit of time to understand.

It’s like the hipster niece of Flexi. Greener, more high-tech, and completely perplexing as to how it operates.

Like, for instance, how to turn it on. No key – just a button, and the “engine” makes no noise when the car is cranked. I’m pretty sure I turned it on and off 58 times on my first attempt at driving.

And then. The entire dashboard is OBSESSED with fuel efficiency. It posters mpg information all over the car like a tween girl’s bedroom is covered with One Direction posters. Charts and graphs and diagrams are spouting out all over the place – it’s as if they’re trying to reach every personality type with their most fitting delivery of the same information.

For the accounting nerd who loves a bar graph and a report card, simply look to the left of the speedometer. It will even coach you if you feel your scores are too low to live with.

For the classically tuned person who wants a car dashboard to look like a car dashboard, you can gauge your mpg with this handy mpgometer. Or whatever you want to call it.

For the techy person who prefers to understand exactly how it’s working, there’s the in-dash screen that breaks it down.

(Which, by the way, made me fully appreciate how complex this car is. The engine is constantly shutting on and off, and the battery charges itself every time I hit the brakes. And I thought Flexi was high maintenance.)

But then.

For those who need to feel truly challenged to be motivated to save the earth, there are….

The Efficiency Leaves.

All of the diagrams and graphs and whateverometers spoke to me, but this one was unavoidable.

When I picked up the car from the rental company, it only had two frail-looking leaves. My dashboard was a sad, untended, neglected wasteland of a garden. It desperately pined for Mary, Dickon, and Colin to discover it and make it theirs.

And here I was, trying to just turn the thing on and make it drive, and then finding myself solely responsible for the future of an entire ecosystem of Efficiency Leaves! The pressure was daunting.

As I drove home, carefully attempting to not accelerate, I felt a chill of joy in my heart every time a new leaf bloomed, and nearly squealed in delight when a fresh branch would wind its tendrils across the dash. But then, when I had to go up a hill or some equally wretched circumstance, I mourned each leaf that blew away, leaving me feeling like a failure, or worse, a killer.

The next day, I became even better at tending my garden. I got to the point where I could see a leaf begin to wiggle, nearly letting loose of its hold on my branch. I would quickly let off the gas and coast, sighing with relief when the leaf settled back into its rightful place.

It didn’t matter that I was going uphill with a line of traffic behind me.

It was my garden.

But eventually I found myself wondering. When, exactly, am I supposed to look at the road? My task of tending to my Efficiency Leaves was so consuming, so all-encompassing. I felt like I needed an assistant driver to let me know when I might be approaching a red light. Or another car, perhaps. But at least I had nearly eight years of child-forced distractions to help me prepare for my gardening destiny.

I. Was amazing.

…Until…hey – did you know that electric cars are really easy to accidentally leave on?

Because there’s no key to pull out of the ignition – it’s just that stupid button. And they make no noise.

So yeah. I…left the car running while I shopped for an hour and a half. It was tragic when I returned.

I need Flexi back.

I can’t handle my car judging me almost as harshly as I judge myself.

Five Jeans That Shouldn’t Exist.

December 2, 2014December 1, 2014 Rachel Callahan Denim Drama, Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, HauteLook, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

As I’ve noted a few times, I do about 90% of my shopping on HauteLook. I’m a fan of shopping on my phone, and I’m fairly good at gauging what will fit and what won’t. Plus, I return what I don’t want and everyone’s happy.

And they have some ahhhhmazing jeans on there. For ridiculously good prices.

But lately, I’ve been running across some jeans that have…concerned me.

Okay they’ve made me drop my phone and run screaming to find antiseptic for my retinas.

Allow me to escort you back to 1984 to start our journey in discussing five jeans that shouldn’t exist. Five pieces of denim so mistreated that they could win an abuse case against their manufacturer.

1. Culottes the size of Cuba.

Oh yes. Those shorts would have even been acceptable at my track meets. The pleats alone contain more fabric than any single pair of shorts that I own. Or maybe all of my shorts sewn together.

And just in case you wanted to see how smoking hottt these shorts look with a little midriff showing (and I do mean a little)…

I know right. These shorts are nearly too indecent to publish on the internet. Because nothing. Nothing I say. Uplifts your butt like fifty yards of denim straight from JoAnn Fabrics draping over it.

Kim Kardashian is weeping in envy right this second.

But let’s move on.

2. The Overall Mini-Dress.

This is Culotte Girl’s rebellious next-door neighbor. She’s the Kimmie to her D.J., The Betty to her Wilma. She says “I’m sexy and I know it but I want to look like an 18 month old boy.”

3. The Sleeveless Denim Romper. For those who want to look like their waist is ten inches wider than it actually is and that they took two pairs of Grandma Jeans and sewed them together.

Please note: This model’s stats indicate that she has a 25” waist. Twenty-five inches. Which means that an actual human would look like the Michelin Man wrapped in shop towels if they attempted to wear this.

4. The “I might’ve just gotten attacked by a zombie…or maybe a melon baller” shirt.

Button-up shirts were not meant to have shoulder cut-outs. It’s just weird made weirder still when in denim. And the gathering at the bottom-most point of the peek-a-boos look like a fitted sheet. And we all know that everyone hates dealing with fitted sheets.

Don’t wear a fitted sheet.

5. The Pocketless Jean Jort.

Oh wait. That’s not from HauteLook, is it?

(And whoever that is has a ridiculously messy living room.)

But you can’t say he’s not selling his product…

I mean, if you can runway spin a jean jort, what level of confidence might you have in a tux?

And really, who doesn’t love a good elastic waistband during the holidays?

Okay, okay. Jorts can stay.

But the rest must go.

Smells Like Tween Spirit.

November 30, 2014November 30, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Do You Know? Because I Don't., Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience., Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

My daughter is tall – like 90th percentile tall. She’s always been tall. And we’re not quite sure why.

Lately her tallness has been catching us off guard – if Chris takes a picture of her, I flip out a little on the inside at how old she looks.

http://instagram.com/p/vtpUMIsb8i

If I take a picture of her, he becomes slightly teary-eyed at how mature she appears.

http://instagram.com/p/vwSr4ASEz-

She also loves to wear dresses. So tallness + dresses means that I always buy at least one size too big so that she can:

a) Wear it a year with modesty,

b) Wear it another two years with leggings, and

c) Wear it another year as a shirt.

…Because I buy her nice dresses and I want them to get their due usage. I buy these nice dresses because the cheaper brands that I used to buy her had a striking change at the size of 4, as the size of 4 is complicated.

4 is great because you have the choice of buying 4T or 4 clothes, which means you have twice the selection.

4 is horrible, awful and no-good because every size 4T sleeved dress is now a size 4 halter, and every size 4T shirt with a scooped neckline is now a size 4 with a deep plunging v neckline.

BECAUSE THEY’RE FOUR.

AND IT IS APPARENTLY TIME TO START LOOKING LIKE A WOMAN.

The heaviest offender of this habit is Children’s Place, where I almost exclusively shopped until she turned four. So we parted ways and I replaced them with the Tea Collection, who sees no need in skanking up a pre-K’s clothing.

(Note. I do not think that every halter or v-neckline is slutty on a four-year-old. Hopefully you understand the point of my rant. If not, feel free to throw turtleneck blue jean overall dresses at me in the comment section.)

Nearly Ali’s entire wardrobe is now Tea Collection,

But Tea Collection isn’t cheap. And even though I have the four-year-plan for Ali’s dresses, I’m still not going to pay full price. So I carefully shop the sales and clearances and really do quite well.

(And I buy the coordinating long sleeve tees to put under her short-sleeved dresses, thereby getting two seasons a year for four years out of some of her dresses. I really should get a Nobel Prize for my wardrobe-stretching abilities.)

But as I have been shopping Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales to purchase Ali’s latest allotment of dresses, I’ve found myself in a deep crisis.

Ali turns 8 in January.

Which means that I don’t want to buy her size 8 dresses, or she’ll grow out of them before I feel they’ve been adequately used.

But guess what size doesn’t exist for girls?

That’s right.

A 9.

Or an 11, for that matter. Or a 13.

And so now I’m stuck, with many questions and zero answers.

Why the flip does the clothing industry decide that nine-year-olds don’t deserve their own size? Does no growth happen at nine? Are nine year olds such a black hole between little girl and tween that they don’t deserve clothes that fit?

And is a 10 two sizes bigger than an 8, or just one size and they’re trying to make it seem two sizes bigger? And if so, why not just call it a 9 and let us have what we want?

Why does an 18 month old get their own half-year size, but there’s a two-year gap when many pre-adolescent growth spurts start happening? Do babies deserve less ill-fitting clothes than angsty and changing little girls?

And most importantly, I DON’T WANT TO BUY MY SEVEN-YEAR-OLD CLOTHES THAT ARE TAGGED FOR A TEN-YEAR-OLD. That smells of tween spirit. And I am not prepared for running a Tweendom.

Please enlighten me, Moms-that-are-ahead-of-me. I NEED YOU.

Dinner Placemats of the Thankful Variety.

November 24, 2014November 23, 2014 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

I’m taking the week off of blogging for the holiday, and I thought I’d leave you with what Ali and I created last Thanksgiving. But don’t let this post fool you – I haven’t done a single holiday thing with the kids yet this year. So if you have any quick Thanksgiving-ey craft ideas that could alleviate my Mommy Guilt, link them or tell me about them in the comments. I NEED YOU. And I hope you all have a fantastic Thanksgiving!

Originally Posted December 2, 2013

I have a confession to make: I am a cynical Thankgivingist.

Not about the family or the food or internal giving of thanks, but mainly about public thanksgiving.

I shy away from posting what I’m thankful for or doing Thanksgiving crafts with my kids because I fear it will be contrived rather than genuine. Not to say that other people aren’t genuinely thankful in November, but something about being put on the spot to be publically thankful RIGHT NOW makes me thanks-adverse.

I know, I know – this makes me a horrible person. I acknowledge this and am thankful that God will forgive me for my abounding cynicism.

But I found myself quite accidentally thankscrafty last week. It came upon me unexpectedly and was a genuine moment of thankfulness shared between Ali and I – exactly the way I prefer it.

Ali lives to make and give away cards. She has giant bags full of cards that she’s spent hours making, and at the beginning of the day, she’ll ask me who we might see so that she can prepare herself with the number of cards needed.

She is so task-oriented about her card supply that she often heaves a great sigh and says “I have SO MUCH CARD WORK to do during quiet time.”

…because her current inventory of 487,000 cards is never enough.

As such, I told her a few days in advance that we would be having our family over for Thanksgiving, and that it was the perfect opportunity to make cards. And, since it was Thanksgiving and all, it would be fantastic if she could write each person a note saying what she was thankful for about them.

She jumped at the idea. We made a master list of our guests (16 people), and I helped her brainstorm about each card, then I left her to her work.

I’m pretty sure she spent an entire quiet time intricately crafting her notes, and they were awesome – even containing illustrations.

I have several books full of scrapbook paper left over from my ModPodge Framing days, and I thought it might be fun to add a border to her cards.

Then I was all like, to heck with it – we’ll use a full sheet to back each card.

As we worked, I realized that they were now pretty much the perfect size for placemats – and we had a serendipitous moment of thanksgiving for our crafting fortune.

We finished backing all of our cards Wednesday evening, and on Thursday morning, as I was admiring our work, Chris said, “I assumed you were going to laminate those.”

LAMINATION!! Now THAT’S something I can be thankful for!

I whipped out my laminator and figured out how I could use 1 1/3 sheets of the laminating plastic I had in stock to on each card to seal them into perfect placemats.

And as the children watched the parade, I basked in my coffee, pretty papers, delightful notes, and my best friend the laminator.

That right there is the cure for any amount of Thanksgiving cynicism.

I had to trim the pages ever so slightly for them to fit, but in the end, they made for my most favorite placemats ever.

And they helped create a beautiful makeshift-tablescape for seventeen:

(The kid’s placemats later got moved to the kid’s tables.)

They didn’t photograph well individually, but here are a few of my favorites.

Ali’s thankful for her Great-Grandmother because she gets to give her cards. I told you she was a cardaholic. Also – that drawing totally looks like Mammaw.

For my Mom, she was sure to point out “Hey Gramamma – see all those circles on your face? I drew your moles for you.”

(And no, those are moley hands, not chocolate chip cookies.)

Ali already enjoys partying with her brother and he’s not even in preschool yet. Mental note: send them to separate colleges.

(NO, Y’ALL – Noah’s holding a Lego, not a bong.)

Her cousin Eli was given three illustrations to help him choose his facial covering for Movember:

My brother Nick is good for one thing:

Which may or may not be as fun as the one thing that my brother JC is good for:

And of course, I surprised Ali by adding in a seventeenth card.

Which pretty much abdicates me from all of my thankful cynicism ever, and prevents the generational spread of my disease.

Or at least I’m hoping so.

Isn’t it Time to Talk to Your Doctor?

November 20, 2014November 20, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Rachel's "Brilliant" Marketing Ideas, Utter Silliness

Have you found yourself weepy during this deplorable deletion of Daylight Savings Time and simultaneous bout of horrific weather? Have you looked out the window to the darkness, cursing its existence? Do you feel hopeless, as if warmth will never return to your life?

Then you may be suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, along with millions of other Americans.

Which means that you may qualify for a free drug trial* for Fiji®!

Fiji is a treatment for Seasonal Affective Disorder that targets your Serotonin receptors to fool your body into thinking that it’s summertime and your life is a permanent vacation. To help you visualize what this drug does inside of you, picture Olaf singing about Summer. The way the drug is administered is that you simply take a trip to the island of Fiji.

Underlying photo by Christian Haugen. Because I haven’t been to Fiji. But it’s definitely right for me.

The study is a double-blind trial, so you will not know whether you are in the control group or test group. Well yes, you probably will. Because if you’re chosen for the control group, you’ll still be sitting in your living room in the dark behind a pile of snow. But if you’re chosen for the test group, you’ll receive an all-expenses paid* trip to Fiji!

So while you are lounging in the sun on a flawless beach with an umbrella in your frozen drink, we will be monitoring your overall mental health to determine if Fiji® is an effective treatment for SAD. While you’re on a private yacht at sunset dancing with your significant other while dolphins jump up and create heart shapes with their tails in the background, we will interrupt for just a second to get you to choose the face that represents how you’re feeling:

And then, after returning home and having a full, frigid, dark-by-afternoon Monday back in your normal life, we will ask you to reassess your mood on the above scale so that we can quantify the efficacy of Fiji®.

So talk to your doctor. See if Fiji® may be right for you.

Side effects include extreme depression upon the discontinuance of this drug, impulsive behaviors that may include selling all possessions and attempting to hitchhike to Fiji, sudden and extreme political involvement and lobbying for the permanence of Daylight Savings Time, and death. Because all drugs these days could cause death. Talk to your doctor to make sure that you’re healthy enough for Fiji®. If you find yourself daydreaming about Fiji® for more than four hours, seek medical attention immediately.

Disclaimer: Despite our overwhelming confidence that it will prove to be 100% effective for the treatment of SAD, This drug will not be covered by Obamacare, Blue Cross/Blue Shield, Medicare, or any other type of insurance.

* All Expenses Paid, with the exception of airfare, accommodations, meals, and expenses.

The Day I Started Wearing Leggings as Pants.

November 18, 2014November 18, 2014 Rachel Callahan Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Running

It’s a tough row to hoe, sharing one’s principles on the internet.

Because sometimes you end up changing those principles. And there’s nothing the internet loves more than hypocrisy.

For instance, the time that I made fun of Toms, then had to admit that it was all my son would wear – and worse, that I was starting to like them.

Since I wrote that, my son’s collection has only grown, Ali has a couple of pairs, and I now own four (four!) pairs of Toms myself, with one more on the way.

I know. Right? I should fire me.

But leggings not being pants is a principle I’ve long stood by. Crotches were meant to be covered by more than cotton/lycra stretch fabric – because extraordinarily unsightly things can happen when they’re not.

But then.

Then I began running this summer.

Running voraciously, daily, and passionately.

There was no problem at first because it was summer – I was running in shorts and a tank top, blissfully unaware at the wretched corner I was self-painting into.

I realized my error and began fretting as we entered September. It wasn’t time to make the decision yet, but I knew it was coming.

What would I wear for cold weather running?

This was a serious situation for me to grapple with. A perception-shattering dilemma. A potentially credibility-crushing decision.

I realize that running leggings are not at all the same thing as an Aztec-print legging that doesn’t line up in the crotch. But my town is brimming over with girls who wear workout leggings to hang out at Starbucks with full makeup and hair to accompany them, and I admit I’ve judged that, as well. It’s the “I want to look like I’ve been working out so I can get away with this outfit but I still want to look good while doing it” look.

At least I am aware of my stranger-judging problem. And that I am a terrible person.

So I began considering my options.

…There were loose running pants. This seemed fraught with issue. Knowing my level of grace I was sure to get my foot tangled in the cuff right as I was passing by a cliff and fall to my death.

No, I don’t want to die over my stand on pants.

…There were the skirt-over-leggings running pants.

I wore enough skorts in Junior High. No.

…I could wear shorts over my leggings. This was the most reasonable option, but it felt rather like a homeschooler trying to be overly modest at a 90’s track meet.

(I have reason to feel this way. We actually had to sew extra-wide ribbons on the ends of our already-long Umbros for our track meets. I feel it necessary to say that even the homeschool parents thought this practice was ridiculous – it was the private school sports association hosting the track meet that required such full coverage, along with the sleeved t-shirts.)

Umbros have never felt so violated.

(It should also be noted that there were no corresponding Rules of Decency for males at this track meet, as my brother’s Creeper Mustache more than adequately proves.)

Shorts-over-leggings was not a viable option for me.

And so my choices seemed to sift through my fingers, nothing left but grossly trespassing my principles.

And trespass I did.

I clenched my teeth, balled my hands up into determined fists, and bought four pairs of running leggings – one pair’s tag even used the phrase “Running Tights.”

And I wore them.

In public.

With a shirt not covering my butt.

And when I finished running, I went to Target.

And I bought coffee.

And I even ate a meal out with my husband.

And I judged myself harshly.

Then one day, the universe gave me the opportunity to complete my full level of hypocrisy – I went running after being super dressed up for something else.

So I was in public in running clothes and full makeup and hair. Which means that perhaps all those other girls at Starbucks had also just been running in their full makeup and hair. And that I’m a terrible person.

Chris demanded that I take a photo of my moment of breaking every principle I held dear (and looking downright ridiculous).

At least you can’t see my leggings as pants. Or the Frappuccino.

The Journey of a Year.

November 17, 2014November 16, 2014 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, I Love Birmingham, Picture Birmingham, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

This time last year, I was beginning to realize the layers of beauty in what I call “Double Blessing Shopping”.

I blame this on a blog reader. I learn so much from all of you – if you didn’t keep me informed and educate me on the best stuff, my life would be so much less enriched. But this particular blog reader was Dyan, a missionary in Africa who started a site called Karama Gifts. Learning about their beautiful products and more gorgeous ministry to the women who make them birthed a process and a stirring in my heart.

They were helping women escape from trafficking, from societal shunning, and from poverty by teaching them a skill, paying them a living wage, and ministering to their heart. In doing this, they also created an easy, quick, simple way for me to buy beautiful jewelry, bags, and other gifts to give to my family and friends for Christmas.

And buy I did – I think everyone in my life now has at least one product from Karama.

Shortly after that, I decided to do an exhaustive search, trying to find as many organizations as I could that had this double blessing philosophy, which led to me writing a super-long Christmas shopping guide to tell you about the best products that I ran across.

God was speaking to my heart through these discoveries, and at the same time, He had been prompting me to find a way that I could help The WellHouse, a local ministry rescuing victims of human trafficking right here in Birmingham as well as all over the nation. The discovery of double blessing organizations was one of the pieces that God used to unveil what exactly He wanted me to do – and that was to open Picture Birmingham, where I could sell products derived from my photography and give 100% of the profits to The WellHouse.

It felt kind of crazy of God – I wasn’t exactly looking to create an organization, or really to add anything to my already quite-Thanksgiving-sized plate of life. But it was completely unavoidable. And somehow God has multiplied my time to enable me to do it, although my office looks a bit more tornado-stricken than it used to, and my husband and Siri have to remind me daily to do simple things that just don’t fit into my brain anymore.

But it has been exciting, exhilarating, and downright shocking at what God has done. Since starting in March, Picture Birmingham has been able to donate $5,000 to The WellHouse, and I have had many opportunities to share about their crucial ministry both on social media and in traditional media.

And now that Christmas is rolling back around again, I would ask that you consider adding Picture Birmingham to your list of Double Blessing organizations from which to choose gifts. My list from last year is still fantastic for jewelry and accessories, but here’s what I can add to the product selection this year:

1. Note Cards – Printed on luxuriously thick 100% cotton artisan paper and available in a number of different quantities, these make fantastic stocking stuffers, hostess gifts, and teacher gifts. They come in three different sets – two featuring scenes and sunsets from Birmingham, and one from the Gulf Coast.

If you would like for me to print customized Christmas cards or if you have specific photos from my collection that you’d rather have on note cards, I can do special orders.

2. Calendars – a collaboration project with Mission Birmingham, this calendar is printed on premium glossy cardstock paper and features a different, beautiful angle of Birmingham each month. Prayer prompts are provided from Mission Birmingham as well, and at the end of the year, you can cut out the images and frame them, if you like.

50% of the proceeds from the calendars go to The WellHouse, and the other 50% is donated to Mission Birmingham.

3. Curated Collections – In an effort to help people sift through the way-too-many photos that I’ve taken, I carefully chose coordinating photos for ten different curated collections.

Each of these collections has a theme – Birmingham Landmarks, Abstract Beauty (great for non-locals, as the photos are not location-specific), Railroad Park, Wonders of Alabama, Trains and Rails, and more.

Each collection contains 3-5 coordinating photos, allows you to choose from five different sizing options, and is 25% off of the regular print price. Starting at just $41, these collections are fantastic for Christmas gifts, office decor, or wall collages.

4. Gallery-Wrapped Canvases – every print in the shop is available on canvas. The three-dimensional effect of the gallery wrap along with the ready-to-hang ease makes this a fantastic gift.

Also, if you’re local and one of those people that would rather browse actual products than look on the internet, I will be at West Elm at the Summit on Saturday from 11:00am – 3:00pm – I would absolutely adore it if you came to visit me! I will have prints, canvases, note cards, calendars, and postcards, and will be available to sign them (although I don’t really like writing on them and still think that’s weird. But whatever.)

Thank you so much for your support of my new endeavor – you and I together have helped multiple women find freedom from sex slavery – and that is so very totally worth me having an extra-messy office.

The Communication Habits of The Next Generation.

November 14, 2014November 13, 2014 Rachel Callahan Kids: The Experience., Weird Strange and True

There was a time where hearing a voice without video to go with it absolutely terrified Noah. He would scream and run and have nothing to do with a non-FaceTiming telephone, whether on speakerphone or not. It was the stuff of demons.

Then, I got a corded phone.

Yes, we still have a landline. No, I’m not sure why. But at any rate, I got a new system with a corded phone because I never could manage to keep a cordless phone charged, regardless of how little I used it or how many handsets I had.

Noah found this new phone unbelievably exciting.

Yes. He loves it so much he kicks his leg up like a tween girl talking to her crush.

(Yes, he’s potty-trained. That photo must’ve been right after bed. Because who can resist getting up and jumping on the phone?)

Because of the enchanting cord, he began regularly making phone calls and is quite good at holding up a steady chat.

My seven and a half year old, though, still does not get this concept.

(I guess this makes her less hipster than her brother.)

I needed her to call her Father, didn’t have my cell phone around, and so I told her to call him from the house phone.

She panicked.

Not only has she never actually dialed a phone number, she’s never talked on the phone off of speakerphone.

I walked her through dialing his number, then had to tell her to put the phone on her ear three times.

It’s as if she’s never seen me talk on the phone.

Oh wait – she hasn’t. I text.

As soon as I let her, she quickly jettisoned that foreign piece of insanely complex technology and went back to expertly playing games on her iPad.

Noah, meanwhile, continued moving up in the world of 1990s tech. He found an old Nokia-style toy cell phone, and, after asking me what the antenna was and why my phone didn’t have one, became completely inseparable with his communication device.

It currently goes everywhere with him, ready at any moment for an array of uses.

He uses it to check in on friends, such as Mr. Branch, a large tree limb that he became quite close to at my parent’s house. He introduced me to Mr. Branch when we picked him up, and suggested I shake his hand. I did so, and tried my best to hide the fact that I accidentally broke off one of his fingers. After leaving my parent’s house, Noah found himself missing Mr. Branch terribly.

I saw him punching on his phone one morning while staring intently. He looked up, and explained.

“I’m texting Mr. Branch.”

“Oh yeah? What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. Texting is quiet.”

“Did he answer?”

“Yup.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. He said a Spanish word.”

“What was it?”

“Azul. And rojo.”

“Oh. Isn’t that blue and red?”

“Yup.”

Then the next day, we were at Aldridge Gardens with some friends. I was at the lake’s edge taking pictures of the gorgeous reflections.

I heard Noah a few feet behind me. I looked back and he was holding his phone up at the lake.

“I’m taking pictures of Amy Beth.”

I followed his phone’s trajectory, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

He had found the perfect shot – and I almost missed it.

If only I’d been quick enough to get a picture of him taking a picture…

And I’m gonna have to get the kid a real phone.

Drug of Choice.

November 12, 2014November 11, 2014 Rachel Callahan Utter Silliness, Weird Strange and True

This blog post has not be evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. It is not recommended to assume its contents are useful medical advice or life advice. Actually, that might be true of this entire website.

I am currently taking 125 calories worth of Vitamins a day, with the option of 20 more calories at night, if needed and/or desired.

Hi, My name is Rachel and I am a voluntary Gummy Vitamin addict.

I’d like to start this session by blaming my husband.

He has always tried to vitamize me, encouraging me to buy myself multivitamins anytime I start getting sick a lot, which has happened often in our marriage. But vitamins are always so gigantic, and I have trouble choking them down, so I would buy a bottle to appease him then take maybe two before giving up and letting them languish in the medicine cabinet.

Then one day he suggested Gummy Vitamins. He may not have, however, realized the extent of my adoration for all things Gummy, nor the full benefits of having gummies that I have justifiable cause to never share with my children. So, after getting completely hooked on multivitamins to the point that I was daily taking double doses and finding myself nauseous and then being in awe that an innocent little gummy could do that to me, I made it my goal to figure out how many different types of Gummy Vitamins I could take without ever overdosing again.

It was actually my annual goal, made on my birthday. Because I turned 33 and it was time for me to have Big Girl Goals.

So, let me introduce you to my current dosing schedule.

Let’s go from left to right.

The tiny, adorable red ones are Vitamin B12. Supposedly they give me a boost of energy and support my metabolism. They’re just little sprites of gummies but have a happy flavor, so they’re a passing sweet treat. However, I am also a fan of 5 Hour Energy*, and I do not recommend taking this vitamin on the same day as using a 5 Hour Energy.

* 5 Hour Energy needs new PR: Despite its gas-station-counter reputation, it’s not what most people think it is, which is like some super duper unhealthy dose of caffeine that Xtreme Sports Enthusiasts take. It does have a small amount of caffeine in it, but it’s mostly a huge shot of Vitamin B. AND IT IS AMAZING. It will make you run like a Puma, have energy like Kelly Ripa, and feel as happy as Larry the Cucumber trying to sing the blues. (And they’re also very tasty – I prefer Pink Lemonade.)

Let’s move on.

The second two vitamins, deliciously crusted in sugar-like crystals that I am sure are infused with all things good for me, are calcium gummies. As one would expect, they have a slightly milky-yet-sweet taste – as if you made Jell-O shots out of coffee creamer. They’re smooth and luscious, and make my bones strong, since I don’t exactly drink much milk.

The third rather nipply-looking vitamins are for Hair, Skin, and Nails. These taste like crap and are slightly sparkling – as if they were once Strawberry Fanta that was left out in the sun too long and then became fossilized and a bit moldy.

The fourth, largest, highest calorie collection are my three Airborne Vitamins. And yes – three is the recommended daily dose! So clearly this is a winning vitamin. But they are sour. It’s like slices of the eggs that Sour Patch Kids are born from. They help my sad immune system as well as adding a robust flavor to my daily collection.

The fifth pair are my Fiber Gummies. Because as I said, I’m a big girl now. They are the most bland of the entire collection and lack a satisfying elasticity, but are not distasteful.

And finally, the sixth pair are my MultiVitamins, which also have an emphasis on Hair, Skin and Nails. At times, I take one of these and one PreNatal Multivitamin, as both seem to help hair and nails in different ways and it’s fun to freak out my husband. And also, the PreNatal ones are so delightfully tasty. Like the smell of newborn baby.

My optional two vitamins are Melatonin, on nights where I’m too extroverted to sleep. The Melatonin Gummies have the most delightful flavor of all of the gummies – they’re sweet and comforting and in every way relaxing, which is exactly how you want your Melatonin to taste.

Don’t they even look cozy?

I have clearly made grand progress on my annual goal, but I am also positive that I can add to my collection as I discover new ways that my body might possibly need more infused fruit snacks.

Because I like to be healthy.