Rachel Callahan

School Completion Badge: Unlocked.

May 20, 2014May 19, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., Kids: The Experience.

Let’s talk about what changes between the beginning and the end of the school year.

1. The transition from fully Pinterested-Out, pre-printed and thought-out signs to OHDEARCRAPINEEDTOMAKEASIGN moments that happen approximately 30 seconds before the photo is snapped.

(I wouldn’t have even remembered to notate the last day of school with a picture except that my Facebook Feed was full of other Moms who remembered all by themselves.)

2. First Day of school semi-coordinated outfits…downgraded to mismatched pajamas and hair that hasn’t been brushed in at least three days.

3. Good lighting, calmly posed photography to “IF YOU DON’T SIT THERE AND LET ME TAKE YOUR FREAKING PHOTO YOU WILL NOT GET A SINGLE PIECE OF CANDY FOR LIKE AT LEAST AN HOUR!!”

4. My subjects seemed to have developed a serious slump. Clearly we didn’t do Charm School this year.

5. And oh yeah – they look older.

Sniff.

(Too bad one of them doesn’t act it.)

Now for the Official Report Card.

Just like last year, Noah had a great first half of the year and not-so-great second half.

The first semester, he was all about it – playing Legos, coloring, doing stickers, and sitting in my lap so as to utilize my fantastic artistic abilities to aid his entertainment.

But the second semester he was angry. Very, very angry.

And when he wasn’t angry, he was using his talents for evil, disturbing the peace to which his sister holds so dearly.

NOBODY spills Ali’s paintbrush water.

Okay yes they do.

On an unrelated note…Noah’s going to Preschool next year.

Really – I swear – It’s not Troubled Toddler Boot Camp. We’d always considered sending him when he was three because his Godmother is an absolutely fabulous three-year-old preschool teacher, and I knew that both Noah and she would love to have a year of school together.

And Ali and I would love to do school without an angry toddler throwing things at us.

(Okay he’s not that bad.)

(Sometimes.)

As I’ve always said about Homeschooling, we take everything one year at a time, with prayer and over-analysis, as to what works for each kid and our family that year.

And we think three half-days a week of preschool will be awesome.

Noah will probably come home again and actually start homeschooling the year after that, but we’ll see where God leads when the time comes.

As far as how mine and Ali’s school year went, it was surprisingly good, despite my health issues that did add a level of difficulty.

We both enjoyed our decision to use textbooks (as old school and hipster as it may have been,) and plan on doing the same next year. Our favorite choice was BJU’s reading program – despite some really hilarious legalistic overtones in a few stories (which gave us great conversation opportunities,) they even provided Ali with artistic relief amidst reading comprehension.

What’s that? You want to see one of the ridiculously legalistic stories?

Sure. Why not?

(As long as you promise to keep in mind that most were not like this. But the few that were really went for it.)

Yes Reggie, your train painting is great. Thank you for eagerly trying to please me, your mother. BUT NO, It is not pleasing to God. And it’s certainly not good enough for God’s Museum.

But wait! There’s more!

Good job Reggie. Way to spend all night trying to please me with your holiness. But no. IT’S STILL NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY GOD MUSEUM.

NOT EVEN ON THE BATHROOM WALL.

And then there was this page in another story, which we quickly deemed the worst “Good Morning, sis!” ever.

Because what kid would want to miss a “Dead Man Overboard” moment?

Despite these winners, we actually ended up doing the First and Second Grade reading program this year because Ali enjoyed it so much.

The A Beka math went well, although I think Ali needs some work in speed. (Or at least not procrastinating.) We did not end up using the BJU bible program or Handwriting Without Tears – we just did our own thing in both of those subjects, and I’m going to reassess for next year.

I also administered Ali’s first Stanford Achievement Tests this year, which was a fascinating process.

(I’ve had a lot of people ask me how I got my hands on such contraband – I discovered that individual homeschoolers can order the tests from A Beka Testing. It was relatively inexpensive, but make sure you download the instructions off the website, because they don’t come with the tests and you’ll need to know how to fill in the school information bubbles if you want to actually get your results back.)

Originally I was just doing it “just because” – I figured Ali would enjoy it (being that she’s a SuperGeek like me), and that it was good practice. However, it ended up being invaluable. I learned several things:

1. It is dang hard to give your own kid achievement tests – especially when you know they know the right answer but are just thinking about the question wrong. But you must follow the script only or it’s not standardized. Therefore, it was great practice in self-control for me. Fortunately, when Ali hits third grade they’ll be administered by our cover school and my personal agony will end.

2. It revealed a couple of educational gaps we had – in particular, specific language issues like capitalization and punctuation. It helped me plan for next year to better cover those areas.

3. It gave me the confidence that we really are on the right track – she did extremely well, and, as predicted, adored the testing. Bubble-Filling-In runs deeply in our family.

4. It has been fifteen years since I have been able to geek out at the statistical goldmine that is Achievement Test results. Oh how I love, love, love percentiles.

And…that about covers our year.

How was yours?

The Truth is Brewing.

May 19, 2014May 18, 2014 Rachel Callahan Chris, Guest Post

Guest Post by Chief Husband and Contributing Writer Chris.

I’m not really picky when it comes to coffee.

I like the Keurig.

I like independent coffee shops like Seeds, Church Street, and small chains like O’Henry’s.

I like coffee all the way up to Fresh Ground Central American Fair Trade Environmentally Sustainable Politically Non-Controversial Organic French Press at an artisan chocolate lounge. (36oz = $5!)

I like Waffle House black coffee.

I like gas station cappuccino that chemically could not hold another grain of sugar or salt without becoming a solid.

I pretty much only draw the line at stale afternoon office coffee. Or maybe not.

But this isn’t about those coffees. It’s a tale of 2 big chains, branded very differently, both enjoyable, and truthfully, increasingly polarized like America itself.

I profiled them both, and their bios read like Miss America Round 1 intro speeches, but here you go:

(They really read better with a hand on your hip, your head tilted to the side, and perky.)

[Major Chain # 1]

I am Cautiously Sophisticated.

I’m an independent thinker and environmentally conscious, to a point… Don’t get crazy. *wink*

I am J Crew boots from the Thrift Store.

I’m high-end good *smile*, but not pretentious bad *frown*.

I use fancy words like Venti, Dolce, Machiatto, and even “secret” words like Trenta.

I have Gold Cards and Stars and my App works great!

My cup is simple and refined. I have a perfectly flat rim, and silky smooth sleeve.

What could be better in major chain coffee?

Well, coffee people, there’s a chain relatively new to Birmingham that comes unashamed with Teva Flip Flops on, and it is slowly stealing my heart.

[Major Chain # 2]

I have jelly-filled donuts and smoked sausage biscuits, and you don’t need that. But it’s there.

My cup rim is gently curved, and sits in your happy mouth like it was born that way.

My sleeve is puffy and tactile and loves to be held.

I call the big one Large.

I have delicious latte flavors with unpretentious names, like Butter Pecan and Brown Sugar Cinnamon.

Sure, my App is buggy. But who cares?

My coffee is delicious, and costs 35% less. With a better sleeve. And a better rim.

Dunkin is coming for you America. *wink*

One Girl at a Time.

May 15, 2014May 15, 2014 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Mystery Solved, Survey Says. . ., Weird Strange and True

My friend Katherine writes a series called Uncomfortable Truths that is positively brilliant. I love this feature so much that I might have contributed my own not-so-comfortable facts once or twice.

However.

In a recent installment, she discovered a fascinating bit of information about the way we go about restraining ourselves.

Katherine hooks her bra backwards (in the front) and upside down, then swings it around and places it where it should go. She assumed everyone else did it “correctly”, aka putting their arms through and hooking it in the back.

I am Katherine’s Normal – I put my arms through and hook in the back. I also assumed everyone did it “correctly,” aka like me.

However, it quickly became evident through the comments on the post that there are many more women in the world like Katherine than Katherine or I would have thought.

(Thereby nullifying her confession as an Uncomfortable Truth – she owes us all one extra next time.)

I had to know the stats. So I tackled the research project to find the truth in this pressing matter, using the highest of scientific methods: Facebook.

I received 146 responses and the data was shocking.

Here’s a broad overview.

That’s right, ladies, we have been lifted and separated.

Who would have thought that we were a nation divided between those who needed to see the clasps and those who did not?

Furthermore, if you take out the one percent of Hook-In-Backers who get their husband to do the hooking, we are nearly an even split.

(Also. Whose husband is always around when they’re putting on their bras? Are they just magnetically drawn to this procedure? Do they have an app that keeps them abreast of this need? Do they linger a few extra minutes before heading to work so that they can be a part of the brocess?)

(Maybe I’m just jealous because I don’t even see my husband in the mornings. No – wait – I’m not jealous – I get to sleep in instead.)

We did, however, rack up a few jugs of outliers, as well as some specifics that must be addressed.

For instance, the number of Backwardsers were split between whether they were just backwards or backwards and upside down.

And then there were a few Hook-in-backers that hooked with it upside down, which seemed to puzzle the rest of the respondents.

(But far be it from us to be knockers of someone else’s technique.)

And although we didn’t have anyone that hooked then stepped into their bra (we all have hips that preclude such), there were people who hooked before pulling the bras over their head…and a couple that hooked at waist level then pulled it up.

Here is the complete statitstical breakdown:

Now it must be noted that the decision on how to put on one’s bra is a grave and important one to make. Several respondents admitted to getting strained muscles or sprained wrists from using the wrong method, and a broken toe is not out of the question. Although many respondents said that they put on their bras “just like Mom taught”, make sure that your Mom taught you a method that will not maim your body.

I hope this has been enlightening. And please – weigh your girls in below.

Weekending at the Georgia Aquarium {And a Giveaway}

May 14, 2014May 14, 2014 Rachel Callahan Giveaways and Contests, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., I'm a Glutton for Adventure, The Blissfulness of Life

Chris and I have always loved taking one-night date trips to Atlanta, but we’ve never taken the kids to experience the “kid side” of Atlanta. We talk about it…we think about it…but we just don’t get around to it. So when the Georgia Aquarium contacted me and wanted to bring us for a visit so that we could give one of you a visit of your own, we were thrilled.

(Plus, it’s the end of the school year and we’re itching for any field trip excuses to count as a school day.)

(Even if they are on a Saturday. Because you know what? We didn’t do school on Thursday. Because I knew Saturday was coming.)

We zoomed out of town on a Friday afternoon as soon as Chris got home from work, but we just told the kids that we had a surprise weekend planned – the wonder and anticipation was thrilling for them.

Of course, the sunset would have to be fantastic when we were stuck in the car on the interstate. But I managed to get a picture anyway – at 70 mph through the sunroof.

Determination and Obsession go hand in hand.

Chris was kind enough to have pre-thought through where we would be at sunset and he had a plan to take me somewhere where I could capture it. He did very well.

We arrived at the hotel at 10:00pm Eastern Time (stupid losing of an hour), and the pool was open until 11. Chris was determined to start the surprises as soon as possible, so he rushed the kids into their bathing suits and took them down to the indoor pool.

Their weekend was already made.

We then ventured out onto the balcony to the heated outdoor pool. Where I stayed dry and enjoyed taking skyline shots,

And let him do the heavy lifting.

At 11pm, we took the kids back to our room in that “oh-my-gosh-I’m-so-cold-being-wet-in-the-air-conditioning” shuffle that I remember very well as a kid.

That night was actually the first time that all four of us had stayed in one hotel room – or one room of any kind – we’re total wusses when it comes to sleeping in the vicinity of our kids. But it went surprisingly well, especially since it was also the first time the kids had ever shared a bed.

Which was pretty darn cute.

The hotel, The Hilton Garden Inn, is adjacent to the Aquarium and had fantastic art along each hallway of different sea creatures that we would be seeing. On our way to breakfast, we told the kids the pictures were a hint as to where we were going, but being kids and therefore not the best detectives, they remained clueless. And really, a hotel stay was thrilling enough.

Until they saw this.

I didn’t even realize that I dressed Noah to match the Tropical Exhibit, but I was proud of myself nonetheless.

The Ocean Voyager Exhibit was our favorite – it has an amazing underwater tunnel that you can ride through on a conveyor belt…which Noah found fascinating – and very helpful in doing the splits.

And most excitingly, it was the home to four Whale Sharks.

My kids squealed and called them by name immediately, because every stinking time we turn on “Go Diego Go,” it’s the Whale Shark episode. EVERY. TIME.

After going through the Tropical Diver and Ocean Voyager exhibits, we met an Aquarium Volunteer, Linda, for a behind-the-scenes tour.

For insatiably nosy people who are always analyzing how everything works like Chris and I, it was absolutely the best part of the day.

We got to see the surgical suite (I would say I was slightly disappointed that no whales had scheduled operations that day, but that’s not very nice to the whales,)

(But we did get to see some really cool x-rays,)

(Including a Penguin with a Stuck Egg, which totally reminded me of the feeling of being nine months pregnant,)

The underwater hospital,

The Analytical Chemistry lab, where they’re constantly monitoring the health of the water in each tank,

And we made it to the top of the Ocean Voyager exhibit just in time our favorites, the Whale Sharks, to get fed.

Linda was so fantastic to explain everything to the kids, showing them the food and explaining why the Whale Sharks ate such tiny morsels. She knew EVERYTHING.

It was mind-blowing to realize that we were above the gargantuan exhibits that we had just been inside – we were able to see the tunnel and pick out where the large aquarium wall was. We couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see us, but we were staring at the same Whale Shark as a whole bunch of people below us.

We then went to the top of the Tropical Divers Exhibit, where cliché-ishly enough, a diver was just surfacing. He had been feeding and checking on the animals below, which the kids found fantastic.

Ali found her favorite creature of the entire aquarium there – these tiny sharks,

(Noah’s favorite creature was this guy in the Pipe Room.)

I fancied these fantastically textured starfish,

And adorably bright frogs.

But once we got to go behind-the-scenes to the baby penguin nursery, all bets were off.

Baby Penguins win. Everything.

Linda kept my kid’s attention the entire time. I could really use her at home. A Behind-The-Scenes tour of the toy box would surely make them want to clean it, right??

After visiting several more exhibits, we went to the Dolphin Tales show, which was quite stunning in its grandeur. It was basically a Broadway play featuring fantastic Dolphin Tricks. Photography was hard in there, so it’s just something you’ll have to see for yourself.

And, as all family adventures should end, Noah didn’t move the entire way home.

So. Would you like an adventure like this?

The Georgia Aquarium gave me a four-pack of tickets (including the Dolphin Tales show), a behind-the-scenes tour, and a parking voucher that I would love to give it to one you!

All you have to do to enter is comment on this post – It’s that simple. The giveaway is open until Wednesday, May 28. The winner will be selected randomly and emailed, as well as announced on my Giveaway Winner’s Page.

Our trip was idyllic and I know yours will be as well, so good luck!

Disclosure: I was given a trip to the aquarium and a night’s stay in the hotel to be able to review the experience. No other compensation was given. All opinions are my own.

p.s. – If you don’t win, the Georgia Aquarium has a southern hospitality discount for residents of Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama and Florida until June 13. Just show your ID at the ticketing window and tell them that you want the Southern Hospitality Discount, and you’ll receive adult Total Tickets for $29.95 + tax.

Modern Communication with Men.

May 13, 2014May 12, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Utter Silliness

I prefer texts over all forms of communication.

(Except for the fact that iPhones won’t let you mark texts unread. This might be the most glaring failure of technology in our society today.)

Besides all of their other benefits, sometimes texts can tell you so much more about a person’s belief system than conversation. Because conversation moves too fast – you might have time to explain yourself fully rather than letting them jump to their own conclusions.

Such was this conversation with Chris.

I was at a Discover Birmingham event selling Picture Birmingham prints a few weeks ago. I had been away from the house since 11am, so I’d brought a change of clothes to get fancied up for the party that evening.

But the dress I had brought was white.

And I’d forgotten my slip.

Thankfully, Super-Husband had offered to pick anything up I needed. So I texted him.

So he clarified which I’d rather have, then said something…puzzling.

I didn’t understand. So I sought clarity.

I married him for his quick-witted defensiveness.

I gave him all night with me by his side in a white dress to figure out exactly why I had needed that undergarment, but finally had to tell him.

“SEE-THROUGH, darling. You don’t want my dress to be TRANSLUCENT.”

The next day, I found myself curious as to whether he understood other feminine undergarments.

In Understanding Women, he gets an A for Effort. And creativity.

I text with my Father, also. But not about bras.

He often looks to me for advice and help – such as when he needs to delete a cell in Excel, or when he needs me to test out his brand new and very first QR code (sorry I never tested that, Dad) or when he needs to offer my Mom tenderness and sympathy.

A bit of back story.

My Mother is a Mrs. Doolittle. Animals are attracted to her – not necessarily a good thing when the animal in question is a giant snake curled up happily upon her hair dryer underneath the bathroom sink.

But fortunately, her two latest additions were not snakes. She recently became the proud owner of a pair of baby squirrels who somehow found themselves in a classic Disney Movie situation – you know, their parents died.

My Mom nurtured the twins, keeping them in the bathtub and often letting them ride upon her shoulders throughout the house. The grandchildren ranged from repulsion to heavy-handed fascination during the squirrel’s tenancy of the bathroom, depending on each child’s personality and fondness of wild animals.

But regardless, you’ve still gotta visit the bathroom. Even if two beady-eyed rodents are there to frighten the poop right out of you.

The time came, though, when the squirrels needed to find their independence.

Mom tried to turn them loose into the friendly woods that had slaughtered their parents, but they wouldn’t go.

They kept begging her for her friendship and protection.

So my Father, being the ever-ready provider that he is, built her a squirrel cage to put on the back deck. The babies wandered out a little longer every day, but still came back to their warm and loving predator-free cage to sleep at night.

Until one of them didn’t.

And my Dad sought my advice.

The next morning.…

But then…two days later…I had to tell my Dad some bad news.

According to my Mother, both squirrels are still in tact.

According to my Father, only one squirrel is still alive.

But sometimes it’s best to let her believe. Just like Disney would want her to.

And finally, a text to my husband about his son.

You all have these sorts of problems too, right?

Mother’s Day Wishes and Dreams.

May 12, 2014May 12, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year, The Blissfulness of Life

I do hope you all had a fantastic Mother’s Day and were overwhelmed [like physically overwhelmed – literally covered up with cards and stickers] with your children’s unconditional love and kindness [bursting through your door and waking you up first thing in the morning] – just like I was.

I’m not exactly sure what she’s implying, but I try not to read between the lines.

I’m taking the day off of blogging (I’ll be back tomorrow) because I spent a good portion of my weekend preparing for the Picture Birmingham event at Silvertron Café tonight.

If you’re local, please come eat dinner and say hello! You’ll be helping rescue victims of human trafficking just by having dinner out, and I would really love to meet you! (And I’ll tell you all of my favorite things to eat at Silvertron.) I’ll be set up with all of my Picture Birmingham products (100% of the profits go to The WellHouse) from approximately 5:00 – 8:30, but I’ll be there a lot earlier getting situated.

(Is "getting situated" a southern thing to say? Or do all of you say that? This is important.)

In the meantime, I leave you with a set of photos I took Saturday night.

Because after all, yesterday was Mother’s Day. So I should be fully within my rights to barrage you with pictures of my beloved children.

And also, I needed somewhere to put them so I wouldn’t lose them.

So here you go…

‘Tis the season for wishes and dreams in Dandelion form.

May all your dreams come true. And may you remember to never breathe in right after blowing Dandelion fronds.

The Emperor’s New Mom Jeans.

May 9, 2014May 8, 2014 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Denim Drama, HauteLook, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend, Uncategorized

I wrote my first jeans post in 2009 – more as a humor piece than fashion statement, but it did have some valid advice. I readily admit that some of the information in that post is outdated, no longer accurately expresses my opinion about certain items (such as skinny jeans), and that certain items have actually gotten much more stylishly cut since the publishing of that article (again, such as skinny jeans.) Even my more popular 2012 post, which is still traveling circles around the internet, has some outdated information that I sometimes have to apologize for.

However.

I hereby swear to you with one virtual hand on Bible Gateway that there is one issue I will never waiver on, regardless of the winds of change, regardless of the pressures of society.

Long Butt is NOT okay. Nor is it ever necessary.

I spent over 2,000 words proving that Long Butt is a side effect of bad jeans, not actually of a literal long butt. And now fashion is trying to convince us that Mom Jeans and therefore Long Butts are “coming back in style” – I get sent at least one article a week stating this, always shared with me from some horrified soul.

Do not believe the hype.

Do not fall victim to the advertisements.

We must stand.

We must fight.

We must not falter.

Our butts are depending on us. And our daughter’s butts after us. And their daughter’s butts after them.

But sometimes, the attacks are so ridiculous they’re fantastic. Which is what I bring you today.

A high-end New York-based store, going by the name “What Goes Around Comes Around,” is taking vintage Levi’s (of the old-style Mom-Jeans variety), dyeing them, sometimes cutting them off, and then selling them. for over two hundred dollars.

I mean at least pull out the model’s wedgie before taking the photo.

I became aware of this line through my go-to jeans app, HauteLook, who desperately tried to accessorize-up these frightening creations to help the sale-job they were trying to make.

Three-foot zipper…check.

Leg openings big enough for four…check.

Fringe that looks like you might have been involved in a heavy machinery accident…check.

Photo-shopping the model’s belly-button up a foot or two…check.

Sometimes they didn’t even bother to dye the material a cool color. This pair came straight out of my brother’s 1988 closet. AND ONE LEG IS SIGNIFICANTLY LONGER THAN THE OTHER.

Two hundred dollars, people.

Two. Hundred. Dollars.

You can tell the above tortured denim was originally a male pair of jeans because it doesn’t have the horrific elbow-pocket that Levi’s always felt the need to add to ladies’ jeans – you know, because we do love a good, wide hipline. Like this jewel.

And there’s nothing that says “I lost my butt in a fight with the neighbor’s dog” like wearing your Dad’s jeans from 1995.

Or 1984.

So clearly this is an exaggerated example. And no, not all Levi’s (or even men’s jeans on women) are bad.

All I ask that you take away from this is:

1. Not every trend is a good one – don’t believe all fashion hype, and especially not name brand designers and stores – sometimes they smoke crack.
2. Avoid elbow-pocket. And airport-hangar leg openings.
3. If you want them, you can have high-waisted jeans without Long Butt. They are out there. Find them. 4. There is no way that a zipper as long as your thigh could possibly be necessary on any body or in any pant.

That is all.

The Circle of Art.

May 7, 2014May 6, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., Storytime

I’ve never told you guys that I’m a model.

(I’m in between jobs right now.)

(Like, 22 years in between.)

But still.

It all started with a family portrait when I was a toddler.

William Hallmark was a friend of a friend of my parents. He was a teenager at the time, and quickly becoming a painting prodigy.

After admiring the dozens of canvases he’d painted in his basement, my parents paid him to paint our portrait – it was, I’ve been told, his first paid work.

So he painted us, but he didn’t like how my face turned out. I looked too grumpy or something – not surprising because I probably was.

(I did always hate it when my mom made me wear pigtails. And frilly socks. With sandals even.)

So he repainted the me portion of that painting.

Then he wanted to paint me again on a separate painting, and I distinctly remember being on display at a First Alabama Bank branch.

(Perhaps my earliest memory? Being a toddler model sticks with a girl.)

A few years later, William was all famous and stuff. He’d released prints of a beautiful collection of Christian paintings that were all the rage – I was pretty proud to have been in two of his paintings, even if one was owned by my parents and one had been in a bank.

And then.

When I was ten, he called up and asked if I would pose for another painting – a real one this time – to be made into prints and added to his collection.

Oh and also – he wanted me to be holding a baby lamb in the painting, so I’d need to do that for the photographs. Basically, a tween’s dream job.

So my Mom dressed me in my most recent Easter Dress (thankfully post-Smock) and we met William at a local farm.

I posed, he took pictures, I got to feed the lamb, he took more pictures, and it was a glorious day.

(The Lamb might have disagreed considering the rather violent grip I had on his jaw.)

A few months later, William had turned those photographs into a painting called “Blessed are the Pure in Heart,” and all of a sudden I was thrust into the super-fame that is being in every Joshua Christian Bookstore.

(I would say Lifeway too but they were still The Baptist Bookstore back then and I’m not sure they were liberal enough to carry something so scandalous as art yet.)

To this day I hang in our living room, my parent’s living room, and my grandmother’s dining room. It’s a lot of pressure, but I try to live up to it.

(I have no idea who the little boy was. But I bought him after Chris and I got married because he was the brother piece in the collection.)

Twenty-two years later and the picture does still crop up every now and then, like a few months ago when a friend tipped me off that I was for sale on a local Facebook trade group…

And when I mentioned the picture on Instagram, and it turned out that I was hanging in one of my blog reader’s dining rooms, and she didn’t even know it was me…

(She bought the painting pre-owned in Germany, which I find extraordinarily curious.)

And then last weekend, when my Mom ran across me…

The Rusty Rooster. Is this what the bottom of the barrel looks like?

I didn’t ask what my price was. Or if she found me in that Miller Lite box.

Although I have no idea what happened to the second picture (the one that hung in the bank,) the other two paintings are also cool forbearers of my children… the first has pieces of Noah (minus the pigtails,)

And the third has Ali.

Although I’ve made eye contact with his art daily nearly my entire life, I hadn’t seen William hardly at all in the past 20 years. But when I realized Ali was old enough to take art lessons from him, I knew it had to happen.

She has his spirit. His artist’s sensibilities. And although she’s no prodigy, she’s determined, as noted with her continuous introduction of herself as “I’m Ali and I’m an artist.”

She started at the beginning of March, first being tasked to learn how to sketch, then William gave her the assignment of finding something she wanted to paint, so she chose a butterfly.

The next week, she was thrilled to start using oil paints for the first time in her life.

Each week she got to start a new aspect of her painting, and she took her work extraordinarily seriously, especially considering she was the youngest in her class by many years.

She wasn’t too sure about having a male teacher at first (she’s a bit on the shy side with men), but after just a couple of weeks, she adored William – as I knew she would.

She worked on her butterfly diligently for six weeks, every week excited to show me her progress, and every week adopting more of an artist’s glow.

And in the last photo, the day she finished, she’s pointing to her signature, because she didn’t want me to miss it. Or you, either.

And I must admit – her talent of painting is far greater than my talent of being still and holding a lamb.

A Cure for the Common Ant.

May 5, 2014May 4, 2014 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Investigative Report, Mystery Solved, Weird Strange and True

“Uh Oh! I dropped an M&M on the ground!”

“That’s okay. Just throw it in the bushes. No – wait – why don’t you go put it on top of that ant bed you were looking at a while ago? I bet they would love it.”

After all, it was Easter Sunday. Everyone deserves a good meal, right?

That conversation happened between Chris and Ali. I came outside a few minutes later and Chris told me to go check it out – and take my macro lens.

They were definitely happy (and photogenic) ants.

You can see the pock marks where various ants had been able to take bites of the sugar coating as the whole colony happily nibbled. Every now and then the candy would tilt and shift, as if they were about to carry it away on the backs of hundreds of tiny pall bearers.

The next day, we went back to check on our science experiment. The M&M seemed to be gone, but there were very caffeinated-looking ants giddily tromping about. With a little finger digging, though, we uncovered the M&M – although it had only an extraordinarily thin outer layer left, the chocolate was in tact. They had just buried it to save it for later.

The next Saturday, we went back to check.

And it was as if the Ant War II had occurred and we’d missed it.

What had been a bustling ant metropolis only six days prior was now an abandoned crater.

Not a single ant could be found in that community, but there were giant red ants patrolling the wasteland, looking rather like US troops in an Afghan desert – they clearly weren’t from around there.

What had happened?

Had the chocolate caused a war? Had the red ants come and killed the village for what was left of the morsel? Or had it caused a civil war? Had all of the black ants been so greedy that they’d killed each other for the chocolate?

I mean I’ve been in a place where I might’ve killed for chocolate. All women understand.

Or….had the chocolate killed them?

This called for further investigation. Immediately.

I called the kids out of their happy place of running through the sprinkler and sent them inside to find more M&Ms.

We located the biggest ant bed in the yard and covered it in what we had on hand, which were mini M&Ms.

Because we’re homeschoolers. And this is what homeschoolers do. They pour perfectly good chocolate out in the yard and call it education.

An hour later we went and checked, fully expecting each M&M to have a colony of ants around it like last time.

But no.

The ants were nowhere to be found! Even the ants who had been disturbed out of the bed by our chocolate air raid had returned inside.

In fact, there was only one grouping of M&Ms that had any trace of ants near them, and all of those were…curled up dead.

And we all know that curled up dead is one step past just regular dead.

(Only to be out-deaded by cockroaches who all somehow manage to flip themselves upside down immediately prior to death.)

(I actually saw one do it one time – he had like this fifth leg thing that extended longer than his other legs and flipped him like a burger on a griddle. That’s right, people – cockroaches have a Death Leg.)

We were more suspicious than ever that the cause of death of the other bed had been the chocolate itself. And further more, those original gluttons had somehow managed to communicate with The Big City before they died to warn them of the dangers of Brown Death – which is why none of our current ant subjects were happily eating like that original gluttonous tribe.

I know that I could have Googled at any point “Does chocolate kill ants?” to find out the answer to this mystery, but I purposefully didn’t – because Google has killed the Scientific Method, and I wasn’t going to let it ruin it this time.

The rain came and pushed/melted the chocolate down into the bed. We hoped that this would quicken the killing process since the ants were refusing to cooperate. So, a couple of days later, we anxiously stirred up the bed to check the progress.

No dice.

There were gazillions of ants and innumerable disgusting ant eggs. They seemed to be blissfully unaware that we’d tried to kill them by cacao.

I fretted.

Perhaps we were wrong.

Perhaps our other ants just caught a really bad cold and couldn’t survive a bed full of ant snot.

But on Thursday, we went back to check again – the ever important Day Six.

And were immediately overcome with gleeful emotion.

The population was decimated. There were only a few ants still wandering about, looking perplexed as if the ant rapture had occurred and they had been forsaken, with nothing else to do but look desperately for a Tim LaHaye book to tell them what would happen next.

Even the eggs were gone.

Now sure.

Maybe they all left because we’d stirred their bed a couple of days prior.

Or maybe ants rotate beds like farmers rotate crops.

Or maybe a number of other factors played into the situation, thereby ruining our Scientific Method. After all, “All Other Things” are never equal.

But. For the purposes of First Grade Science, we’re calling it.

Chocolate. Kills. Ants.

(And no. I still haven’t Googled it.)

A Triad of Short Stories.

May 1, 2014May 1, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Investigative Report, Mystery Solved

Thank You: Private Eye.

I received a thank you note in the mail last week.

It was addressed to “Mrs. Callahan” and was signed “Mrs. [insert last name I’d never heard before here.]”

It was a rather generically written thank you card for a wedding gift that I did not remember giving. In fact, I recalled very few wedding presents I’d bought in the past year – we’ve journeyed past that state of being to baby presents. Which means that the only stage of life left is funeral flowers.

But this note. This puzzling note. I found it odd that she signed her name with no first name, indicating that she wasn’t sure who I was and she wasn’t sure that I was sure who she was.

Which would hint at the conclusion that I knew the groom, not the bride, but I knew no one of that name.

My first assumption was that she got a wedding gift from another Mrs. Callahan that she didn’t know, but still felt compelled to write a thank you note, so she looked up Callahan, threw a dart at my name, and sent me the thanks.

It made sense to me that I was never the intended recipient, as I didn’t believe I’d given the gift. But….I’m not listed in any directories. So I should never be The Default Mrs. Callahan.

Perhaps her wedding was so long ago that I had already forgotten her. But that sounds more like something someone in the Funeral Flowers stage of life would do.

The idea of me resting on my laurels with such a lack of closure was impossible.

So I began my usual internet stalking.

First, the return address on the outside of the envelope – searching that gave me the groom’s full name – I’d never heard of him.

Second. Facebook. He had no Facebook account. Not very helpful for stalkers, but not a bad plan for life.

Third. I searched for his marriage license in a vain attempt to locate the Bride’s first name. Couldn’t find it. Unusual….maybe they got married in the Bahamas.

Fourth. Broad Google Searches with a variety of terms. I gathered a bit more information on him and his relatives from the 1700s, but nothing helpful.

Fifth. LinkedIn. I completely ignore my LinkedIn account but it can be an extraordinarily helpful stalking tool.

He was there! And his profile picture showed him lovingly snuggled up to his new wife.

I enlarged the photo. Studied it. She looked slightly familiar. I had a hunch of someone she might be – who was someone to which I could have sent a wedding present.

I Googled his full name with her potential first name.

BINGO.

She was, indeed, someone I knew. And so I was, indeed, the present giver.

And it only took an hour of searching to accept it.

Hair Do You Like Me Now

It all started with Pillow Talk.

Doesn’t everything?

”Hey, dear. How do you think I’d look with black hair? Exceptionally pale, modern and edgy, glamorous, or freaky goth?”

“Um…I don’t know?”

“Well what do you THINK…? Because black hair does vastly different things to different people.”

“Seriously. I have no idea. Surely there’s an app for that.”

“Maybe I should wait until summer when I have a tan…”

Then, the next day, I saw that one of you ladies, Fi, had posted about the very app I needed:The ModiFace Hair Color App.

Yes, this was what my life lacked!

I started with this picture….

And gave it a whirl.

I actually liked myself with virtual black hair – no trace of goth…possibly a tiny bit glamorous.

The other black option seemed to give me white streaks. Which is fair.

Then I moved on.

Let’s try red! My hair will NEVER hold a titch* of red hair color. So I might as well have it while I can.

Okay. Maybe softer.

Not bad…Not bad.

I was on a roll. Why not go blond while I’m at it?

Or not. Wow.

Definitely not.

But PINK. I’ve always wanted Pink! Pink I could do.

Maybe just a little more…

YES. I was made for pink.

I put them all in a grid and sent them to Chris – since he wasn’t helpful without pictures, maybe he could be helpful WITH pictures.

Then again, still not helpful.

* Titch is a word that Ali made up but continually insists is a real word that she heard on television. She uses it often and awesomely. Usage examples:

“I don’t have a titch of candy left!!”

“I could use just a titch more apple juice, please.”

“Noah!! Scoot over a titch!!”

I expect you all to be using titch by week end.

Moist of my Own.

Remember Moist, Birmingham’s mysterious and disgustingly named graffiti artist?

Well guess what.

He has an Etsy shop* now. Isn’t that just adorable?

…Because Etsy was just getting too full of smock and needed someone selling graffiti prints and…Bloody Razor Vial Necklaces??

Okay that’s just disgusting, Moist.

But still.

His lettering is fabulous. And I needed a memento from my thrilling interview opportunity. So I ordered my very own Moist Placard.

When my package arrived, I excitedly looked at the return address – after all, I don’t know Moist’s real name, even after stalking him a bit – just for my own curiosity.

I liked his choice.

And I liked his packaging style,

The placard was wrapped in what appeared to be vintage Birmingham paperwork, and my invoice was hand-printed on an old “Material Requisitions” form. He also included a few Moist Tags….I haven’t quite decided what to do with those yet but I should definitely wear one as my nametag at the next Homeschool Moms meeting.