Rachel Callahan

BREAKING: Snow Pandemonium a Plot by Area High School Students.

February 6, 2014February 10, 2014 Rachel Callahan I Love Birmingham, This is TONGUE IN CHEEK People - Don't take me Seriously., Utter Silliness

An ongoing investigation has unraveled a ring of high school students who caused last week’s Snowpocalypse in Birmingham, Alabama.

According to captured SnapChat messages (that’s right, children, your data isn’t safe – not even there), thousands of area teenagers banded together to compound a liquid road treatment that immediately turns snow into ice, which puzzled meteorologists throughout the state.

“We do not know why this small amount of snow caused such difficulties on the roadways,” James Spann states on his blog.

Now we do.

The road treatment, undetectable to the human eye and extraordinarily effective, was the cause of hundreds of wrecks, thousands of abandoned vehicles, over ten thousand schoolchildren being stranded at school overnight, and mass hysteria throughout Alabama and Georgia metropolitan areas. Although the exact ingredients of this concoction are not known, investigators have discovered that the original batch was created in a student’s aunt’s boyfriend’s meth lab in Walker County.

The ring’s purpose, however, was not the chaos of last week – that was merely a necessary byproduct of the conspiracy.

“We knew that if we could create a weather event that caused crippling confusion to our state, we would reap the benefits for the rest of the winter,” admits one student that wishes to remain anonymous.

And, as was proven today, their plan has worked.

Despite repeated Meteorological assurances and with just the barest possibility of snow flurries, dozens of schools opted to close early, citing last week’s pandemonium as the reason for their over cautiousness. Even Uncle Joe’s Tot Locker emptied their lockers into the back alley at noon.

“We cannot afford to put our students at danger, and as we saw last week, our Alabama winters wield great power over all of our ongoing well-being,” states the Tuscaloosa County School Superintendent.

“We just wanted to get started on our Breaking Bad marathon early,” explained Uncle Joe.

This overreaction to any and all potential winter weather is expected to recur at least ten more times in February and March, and then most likely one more time for that freak April snowstorm that never really pans out.

It was the mass amounts of euphoric celebration from the student ring that ultimately revealed their plot. Instagram selfies with the clear sky, Vines of school books being catapulted into the air, and the #WeKilledSchool hashtag on Twitter. Once the pieces started fitting together, all of the SnapChat plotting was easily captured with the help of the Police Chief Shaggy’s eleven year old daughter Scooby, who happened to be hanging around the station since schools were closed.

The actual size of the student ring is yet to be discovered, but it is clear that students were involved as far west as Tuscaloosa and as far east as Atlanta. No arrests have been made.

When asked what disciplinary actions would take place for these students within the schools, Walker High School’s Superintendent said, “they will each get an A+ in science.”

Until the remnants of the road conditioning substance is found, police are advising meth users to carefully examine their purchases to prevent a mix-up.

Hundredth Day of School Breakfast and other 100th Day of School Activities

A Random Reason to Celebrate.

February 5, 2014February 10, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Actually Possibly Informational, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore.

The Hundredth Day of School is entirely a millennial fabrication as far as I can tell, but a much needed one. Because after the climax of the Christmas Season (and, for us, two birthdays), the rest of the winter feels like drudgery – both in school and in weather.

So although I am not, on most days, one of those homeschool Moms who tries to make everything spectacular and jubilescent (I know that’s not a word but it should be), I do attempt to be that Mom on the Hundredth Day of School.

Because we all need it.

This year, we started our morning out with a “100” breakfast.

The kids were so shocked that I was actually cooking something for breakfast that they both forgot me telling them the day before what we’d be celebrating.

Ali was rather grumpy about the whole thing, and extra annoyed that I kept trying to get her to figure out why it was a special day by looking at her breakfast.

(I swear. My juice was just sparkling grape juice. Somebody had to drink it since the kids wouldn’t – Noah said it tasted like soap and Ali said it was awful spicy.)

The longer I tried to make her figure it out, the grumpier she got.

“But what does your sausage LOOK LIKE? A …. one, right?”

“NO. It looks like a sausage.”

“Okay. Well, what about your pancakes? What do they look like? Don’t they look like zeroes?”

“They look like circles and pancakes. Nothing else. NOTHING ELSE!!”

Noah was too busy enjoying his fancy glass of apple juice to care what day it was.

Finally I spelled it out for her, and she was relieved to be sprung from a wretched existence of guessing.

Next came Hundredth Day of School Presents.

Before you say to yourself “now isn’t she just ridiculous!”, I promise I’m not. We had first day of school presents whose chief goal was to keep Noah semi-satisfied during school hours, and I had random gifts hanging around in my closet for refreshes on this purpose (it’s cheaper than Mother’s Day Out), so I just pulled some stuff out and stuck it in a bag.

I didn’t even put tissue paper in those bags.

Ali got a Search and Find book and some Gel Markers,

And Noah got a holiday-appropriate “Learn to Count” Lego train.

And then we had to actually start school.

I printed out the exact same writing prompt sheet that I gave Ali last year – half because I was lazy, and half because I wanted to see what changed from Kindergarten to First Grade.

I was more surprised by what didn’t change.

Hundredth Day of School Writing Prompts And Other Activities

stuf anamls / stufft anaml’s
Is (eyes) / satan’s
ckrafts / dot’s
jele bens / switish fish (Swedish Fish are a favorite candy right now)
petsas (Pizzas) / Jient Fish
Dogs / Dog’s
Si ol my frins (see all my friends) / go to heven
thro them / buy a lot

Yes, we need to work on appropriate apostophication before she’s old enough to have Facebook and thank all her friend’s for they’re birthday wishes.

While she worked on that, I used her brand new Gel Markers (okay they were for me not her) to make her a Factor sheet, also copying what I did last year.

The great thing about this year, though, is that she was able to come up with most of them herself, with just a few ideas from me.

Meanwhile, Noah was across the table, blissfully happy with his numbers train. And I was trying my best not to cringe from his out-of-order numbers.

I managed to pry him away to participate in crown-making – the idea was to put 100 stickers on each crown.

He placed five.

I placed ninety-five.

This fact did not make him at all reticent about admiring himself in my iPhone camera.

(In case you’re wondering, he lost his shirt at breakfast thanks to that fancy cup.)

Meanwhile, Ali was placing two stickers, writing down what number she was at, drawing auxiliary art, getting distracted, placing two more stickers….I was ready to go to heaven, too, before she finally finished.

But she did. And they posed. And we moved on to other schoolwork.

The final thing I did was show them what they would look like as old people, thanks to the AgingBooth app.. Technically not a hundred years old, but I’m the teacher and I told them so.

Either way, they were amused.

Ali,

Noah,

(At least he gets to keep his dimples,)

And yes, I even aged myself. I think the program was especially unkind to my jowls.

And this is why you shouldn’t have front facing, clear photos of yourself lying around on my phone. Because lucky Chris – he got off without being aged.

At the end of the day, I received the ultimate compliment from Ali – one that I don’t expect to ever receive again.

“Going to Gramamma’s house is fun, but the Hundredth Day of School was even more fun.”

I guess this means that I should attempt to be one of those homeschool Moms more often.

But don’t worry – I won’t.

Ali: Commissioned Artist.

February 3, 2014February 2, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life, Thoughts about Faith

I’ve noticed a trend with adult/child introductions. Anytime a new big person meets one of my little people, they say hello, then comment on a physical feature.

“My goodness you have such beautiful eyes!”

“Look at all that hair – I bet that’s a job to brush!”

“Oh – you’re so tall for your age!”

“Have you gone to the Dermatologist about that beauty mark?”

Okay maybe not the last one but still.

In response to these greetings, Ali has chosen her own catchphrase. She always replies with, “And I’m an artist, too.”

She has no idea how much she’d make Oprah, Winifred Banks, and Veronica Corningstone squeal with delight over her capacity to turn the conversation from her looks to her abilities.

In Ali’s mind, she is an artist first. It’s her chief way of identifying herself, and she’s earned the title – she spends hours every day cranking out bags full of art projects, filling my memento drawers with gifts, and making her room nearly uninhabitable and downright frightening to clean. Regardless of the medium, she’s always adding artistic touches.

As such, My Mom decided to commission an artwork project from Ali.

Mom is the director of Cubbies at our Church, which is the Wednesday night program for the three and four year olds. She writes a ridiculously ambitious Christmas play each year, and by “ridiculously ambitious” I mean it starts at creation.

Again – played out by very energetic three and four-year-olds.

Ali has many fond memories of her Cubbies Plays back in the day and so do I, but for different reasons – one of my favorite pictures ever came from one of these plays…right down to the backwards jeans.

For this year’s props, Mom wanted childlike illustrations of each day of creation, so she bought posterboard and spent the afternoon with Ali and her creative juices.

Day One was a fairly boring day of creation (not much artistic interpretation can be added into “light and dark”), so Ali began with Day Two. They talked about what happened on each day, then Mom let Ali choose how to depict it into the art piece.

Here’s what Ali came up with:

God said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” And God made the expanse and separated the waters that were under the expanse from the waters that were above the expanse. And it was so. And God called the expanse Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

And God said, “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so.God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.

And God said, “Let the earth sprout vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind, on the earth.” And it was so. The earth brought forth vegetation, plants yielding seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and years,and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth.” And it was so.And God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. And God set them in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.

And God said, “Let the waters swarm with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the heavens.”So God created the great sea creatures and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

(The detail in this one made it my favorite. The one fish with the eyelashes, the other fish with some passive aggressiveness, and I thought her bird feathering technique was pretty fabulous, solidifying in my mind her status as an artist.)

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds—livestock and creeping things and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.” And it was so. And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the livestock according to their kinds, and everything that creeps on the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

…And it was so. And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

(I appreciated that Eve’s conversation bubble required an extension to contain her excitement – it figures that she’d be more perky about the whole existence thing than Adam. Men.)

Mom hadn’t planned on making a poster for the Seventh Day, but Ali insisted. She told Mom, “I know exactly what it should look like.” Coincidentally, Mom had planned on them ruining a picture, which they had not, so she had an extra board.

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation. [Genesis 1-2, ESV]

There’s God for you, arms folded, toes in the sand, head in the…surf, happily resting on the Seventh Day.

I mean, if you had just created beach, wouldn’t you head there for your day of rest? It makes total sense. And I’m sure that God is fairly capable of floating.

Ali and I attended the play so that she could see her first commissioned artwork on display. We watched as Mom led her procession of barely-not-toddlers onto the stage,

somehow managed to place them all where they should go,

(Yes of course everyone is always jealous of whoever gets to wear the star costume,)

and they began their story.

Miraculously, there were only minor incidents of Resting-God being eaten,

Shepherd-on-Shepherd Hooking,

(which did eventually require a leader rescue,)

and only once was Baby Jesus thrown from the manger – by someone with an impressively good arm, might I add.

But they were precious, every one.

And when it was all over, my Mom rested.

Maybe not on the beach like God, but I bet she felt just as relieved.

An Hour With the Horizon.

January 31, 2014January 31, 2014 Rachel Callahan I Play at Photography, I would NEVER take too many pictures. . ., The Blissfulness of Life

We made it home, carefully, yesterday afternoon.

One of the most glorious moments in Eufaula was the sunset Wednesday night. In fact, our cottage had a perfect sunset and sunrise view – so I’m already planning a return visit.

But Wednesday night. The snow on the beach had faded, but was still dazzlingly covering the yard. The ice, snow, beach combination was something that South Alabama doesn’t get to experience…ever.

I don’t often have the opportunity to observe a single sunset through its entire process, but since the kids were happily playing, I witnessed this one from beginning to end, reminding me why I’ve so deeply fallen in love with this magical time of day. The dramatic contortions that the sky goes through is exhilarating in a way that’s hard to explain without seeing the whole process. So, here are twenty shots sixty-five minutes, all from my iPhone, using ProHDR as my camera, and with very few post-shot edits.

4:43

4:45

4:47 – the sun reflecting in one of the many frozen puddles.

4:50

4:55 – Noah was screaming “I’m running! IN THE SNOW!!”

4:56 – Snow running is quickly exhausting.

4:57 – Beach reeds – I’m thinking this was probably their first experience with ice.

4:59 – Ali, looking for treasures.

5:01

5:02

5:05

5:06

5:07 – It was as if the earth completely segregated, for just a minute, into warm and cool sides.

5:08

5:09 – They were probably kicking goose poo.

5:12, one minute prior to official sunset – Noah moved on me and left his ghost behind.

5:27

5:28 – Rorschach skies – but way more colorful.

5:29 – I had to wade out in the water myself – you know, to check the angle.

5:48 – the last peeks of color are always the softest.

Everyone needs to give a sunset an hour of their time. Regularly.

The Snow Chasing Us.

January 29, 2014January 29, 2014 Rachel Callahan I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Weird Strange and True

So the children and I set out early Tuesday morning to seek snow adventures.

We ran into some slightly dicey weather about halfway there, which is when I learned for the first time that you could actually use defrost to de-FROST your windshield.

I seriously had no idea.

And it wasn’t a quick realization, either. It was after my window was covered with sleet, and after I tried to use my wiper fluid which only furthered the ice smear. I decided I was going to have to find a gas station to buy an ice scraper (because of course I don’t own one,) then I had The Epiphany.

It IS called deFROST. I wonder if it could…surely not…well, it’s worth a try…

And miraculously, it worked!

Who knew?

But what we didn’t realize until we arrived and settled in is that we had actually run away from the snow, and what turned into one of our state’s most massive snow catastrophes.

Our destination, Eufaula Alabama, had been predicted to get a the brunt of the snow. We did get snow, but not until much later. What actually happened is that the snow band very suddenly shifted 100+ miles north, quite unexpectedly dousing Birmingham with snow and ice, causing schools to shut down and everyone to leave work at once to get their children and/or get home. And thousands (yes, thousands) of people ended up stranded in a massive, city-wide gridlock of wrecks and impassable roads.

Over four thousand children were stranded at their schools overnight – some still there now, with dedicated teachers who may or may not have had any sleep.

There were hundreds of wrecks. Hundreds of abandoned cars when people realized they couldn’t move – it was so desperate that they resorted to walking miles home in the still-falling snow.

It was horrifying and heartbreaking to see unfolding over Twitter and Facebook. And then, the exact same thing happened in Atlanta.

It’s complicated to explain why this happens to the south, but this article does a pretty good job. Basically, we have zero infrastructure to handle it, because it doesn’t happen enough to warrant it. James Spann, the weatherman I mentioned yesterday whom we all rely on, issued a humble and heart-wrenching apology. But I know how seriously he takes his service to our community (he literally saved thousands of our lives in 2011,) and am 100% confident that he got it as right as he could have considering the complete lack of historical data about predicted South Alabama snowfalls.

All day Tuesday I had a constant stream of texts from my friends that were separated from their kids, stranded on the roads, and/or trying to get home from work. Chris was stuck overnight in his office (and is still stuck tonight as well.)

Yet we were in South Alabama, where it was supposed to snow, but we were alternating between watching movies and playing in the rain.

It was bizarre. It felt wrong. And all we could do was pray for our friends and neighbors – which we did a good bit.

After the kid’s bedtime, it started to snow here – giant, fat flakes, leaving us with the same amount of snow that Birmingham got, but with warmer temperatures and no mass hysteria.

I went to bed knowing that my friends were safe, my husband was safe, but that thousands were not.

I woke up just before sunrise to the snowy Utopia I’d so fervently sought for me and the kids, but it was bittersweet.

However, there was nothing we could do but pray for the people back home – we were quite firmly iced in three hours south, after all, so we set our hearts to enjoy the place that we were.

The sunrise was magical,

The kids were thrilled (I know the amount is laughable to Northern readers but it was enough to make us happy,)

And the lake made things all the more entertaining.

I forgot that I was three hours SOUTH of Birmingham several times until the Seagulls reminded me.

And of course these signs.

Noah enjoyed the snow until he decided he’d pick some up (in the terribly sub-par gloves I’d provided him.)

Apparently the stuff is cold. Who knew?

Ali was fortunate to make friends with the three kids staying two cottages over – they came up from Florida seeking snow.

Ali even ventured into the lake.

Noah preferred the driest snow he could find, after he watched an entire movie to recover from above snow panic.

And, as is customary in southern snow, we frantically did everything that must be done.

We ate snow cream and made snow angels,

Attempted a snowman but found the snow to be too powdery, made snowballs,

(Which is when I realized my daughter definitely throws like a girl,)

And wrote our names in the snow – with our feet, of course.

In short, our adventure has been successful. We have all three gotten everything we wanted out of our trip – beautiful views,

snow,

and plenty of playtime.

And some day when three hour’s worth of roads thaw (hopefully tomorrow), we’ll go home.

Please be praying for those still in transit or stranded in Birmingham and Atlanta.

SnowChasers.

January 28, 2014January 27, 2014 Rachel Callahan I'm a Glutton for Adventure

Sometimes a dose of lunacy is the best prescription.

At least that’s the principle upon which I’m basing this week’s decision-making.

I started feeling well on Saturday. Like, well well. More well than I’ve felt since November, when I began a string of bugs that included but was not limited to Laryngitis, a sinus infection, various other infections of a less savory nature, strep, a seven day stomach virus, and then ending the last two weeks with laryngitis again, which turned into a determined throat infection that kept me awake for the majority of four nights in a row with inexorable coughing. This was all while I was getting a colonoscopy and endoscopy, discovering that my immune system was compromised (duh), and still learning to live with dysautonomia.

Oh – and homeschooling, blogging, year-end accounting, two kid’s birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

That’s all.

All of that set the stage for an extreme intoxication of euphoria starting three days ago when I suddenly felt well, energetic, and even vivacious, and this magic is still coursing through my veins now.

It was a life-altering experience.

Around the same time, there began talks about Tuesday. Of amazing snowfalls in South Alabama, even more stunning snow in the Carolinas, but just sub-freezing, dry air in Birmingham.

My feelings of jubilation coupled with the possibility of yet again missing out on snow altered my brain chemistry and made me believe that a road trip was the only logical conclusion.

My first destination was Greenville, Alabama (the real Greenbow Alabama, for you Forrest Gump fans.)

Then the maps changed. Next destination: Orange Beach, Alabama. Yes, for a tiny second, the models were showing a FOOT OF SNOW on the beach.

Then the models realized how idiotic they looked and changed again.

I continued changing my plans with each new map, and on Monday morning, I decided the predictions were getting close enough to ask our weatherman, @Spann, for advice.

But I worded my question carefully, because during approaching southern snow events he gets fifty questions per minute from people wanting to know the exact amount of snowfall in their step-brother’s backyard at 4:35pm on Tuesday afternoon because they have a cookout planned that they’d really rather not postpone and from teenagers threatening his life and limb if they don’t get snowed out of school.

So like I said. I tread softly.

Thankfully, he kept his opinion of my obnoxious question to himself and presented me with a treasure map – one single map, which was a beautiful thing after my study of dozens of vastly varying maps in the past 48 hours.

“Go to the pink on this map for a wild winter experience” was as mysterious and wondrous a clue as “The secret lies with Charlotte.”

Clearly I had to go.

For the children’s sake.

For the educational experience.

It’d be the best field trip all year long. And count for, like, 20 days worth of first grade science.

All for the children. Ahem.

But I knew Chris couldn’t go with me – after all, he has a busy job. But he was fully supportive of my dreams, and oddly unconcerned about hazards that could befall us. It’s like he knew it was my destiny.

So I was on my own. With my kids. Unconditionally COMPELLED to find this snowstorm and make it mine.

I went through a frenzy of plans – searching for hotels, rental houses, resorts, hostels, the location continuing to change with each new snow model – Charleston, then Columbia, then Eastern Georgia, then Santee, SC, then Eastern Georgia again. I followed that NAM model pink streak around like I was a starving dog on a Sarah McLachlan commercial and it was the most juicy bone ever concocted.

I finally had to find some logic within myself and therefore gave up the ultimate chase of the hot pink wild winter experience, because the predictions of ice first and widespread power outages were getting too intense, and that pink herring kept moving north on me.

(I even had one rental house owner agree to rent me their house, then call me back and say they couldn’t with a good conscience because they just knew it would lose power.)

So finally, my plans landed back in South Alabama near where I started. I rented an adorable little cottage on a lake for the kids and I, and we will have our snowy utopia.

So by the time this post publishes, I’ll be on the road for a grand SnowChase, hoping to get out in front of the travel issues. It may or may not snow where it’s supposed to, I may or may not continue my trend of feeling vivacious, I may or may not get sick again, Noah may or may not even like snow (he seems like the type that would refuse to touch or walk in it), I may or may not be driven insane by a decent drive with two kids and no assisting adult, and I may or may not have internet or cell phone service when we arrive.

But I must go.

And I must adventure.

There is no other choice.

To Lunacy – and beyond.

Until I blog again, follow along with our absurd journey on Twitter and Instagram. Assuming I can find a cell signal.

On Feminine Products and Men: The Essential Study.

January 27, 2014January 27, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., It's Tough Being a Girl, Survey Says. . .

My husband walked into the room, looking dejected.

“You must think I’m a horrible man.”

“What?? Why?!? You’ve been unbelievably helpful this week.”

“I found your shopping list.”

“Oooooh. Yes. Is this about me not asking you to buy pads?”

“Yup. You asked me to pick up everything else on your list – except that.”

“I dunno….I just….I guess….I just….didn’t want to do that to you?”

“You know I would get them without batting an eyelash!”

“Of course! I just…I don’t know why I didn’t ask.”

He let it go.

For eighteen hours.

The next day at lunch, he texted me.

“Do you need me to pick you up some pads?”

“No.”

Close to five o’clock.

“Still need pads?”

“No.”

On the way home.

“Should I stop for pads?”

Calm down about the freaking pads already!!!

I really didn’t have a good reason not to ask him – my husband is the most servant-hearted, sensitive, un-embarrassable guy I know. And I wasn’t embarrassed to ask him – I mean I’m blogging about it aren’t I? He’s certainly been through much worse with me (the horrifying after-effects of childbirth are one of the only things so disgusting that I refuse to write about it, and he bought everything I needed that week including the rubber gloves), and he’s unnervingly OCD about buying the right product at all times….all logic points to the fact that my husband is the IDEAL man to be a feminine product purchaser.

Yet we’ve been married since 2001 and I’ve never asked him to perform this task. And the way he sees it, I’m robbing him of the opportunity to be the wind beneath my wings.

Was I normal? Was I not? I needed to know, as angst crept up and filled my soul like blue liquid being poured onto an absorbent surface.

The only solution was a Facebook poll. I asked two questions:

1. How long have you been married?
2. Do you ask your husband to buy you feminine products?

Nothing brings Facebookers together like an intriguing question, so I received 122 answers within 18 hours, and many included fantastic commentary.

But first, the stats.

51% of women absolutely ask.
14% rarely ask.
4% have asked once (most commonly that “once” happened immediately following childbirth. If only my own post-childbirth needs had been for feminine products…that would have been nearly delightful.)
31% have never asked.

I can live with being in the 31 percent. And hopefully Chris can figure out how to put a cork in his complex.

It was difficult to tell if there was a correlation to length of marriage and Male Feminine Product Purchases (MFPP), except that couples in the 15-20 year bracket are abnormally low in the “yes” department. We’re at nearly 13 years, so perhaps we’re slightly ahead of our marital generation.

I didn’t ask for reasons why, but many of the “no” and “rarely” people offered their logic anyway. And surprisingly, only 13% of the time was the issue potential husbandly embarrassment.

No. The real reason seems to be a suspected or proven lack of MFPP proficiency.

If you assume “He’d need specific instructions” is the more tactful way of saying “he’d buy the wrong thing”, then 41% of men are dodging the bullet, so to speak, based on their lack of shopping detail.

No one, however, said “No but I don’t know why.” So clearly I need to search my own heart for answers.

While I’m exploring my motivations, here were my favorite responses.

You ladies make my life so much richer.

Please feel free to add your own commentary below – your input may be crucial in aiding my super long overnight soul search.

Never Trust a Llama.

January 24, 2014January 23, 2014 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

Originally post June 26, 2012, but this reminder cannot be reiterated too many times.

Two days after Noah recovered from Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease, he managed to come down with Croup.

Considering that we hadn’t been anywhere for what had to have been centuries due to his ailing condition, I have no idea how he got sick again.

But sick he was.

(He is completely better at this lovely moment. Here’s to hoping it lasts.)

As such, he was unfit for the nursery on Sunday, again. So while Ali was having the time of her life riding to Church in Daddy’s fancy car and – oh – stopping for Krispy Kreme on the way, I decided to give Noah the consolation prize of a one-on-one trip with Mommy to the zoo.

(I know. Germs. I promise that I kept him confined in his stroller almost the entire time, and when I freed him, I ensured that he stayed far, far away from other children.)

(What can I say – I needed out of the house.)

Plus, his current favorite activity (aside from GETTING SICK) is reading from his animal book and making all of their sounds, so I thought that I would get an outstanding quantity of baby brownie points for this activity.

But no.

Apparently, he greatly prefers the safety and appropriate social distance offered by two-dimensional animals.

He clung to me as we passed harmless sheep and tiny baby goats…and made sure to keep his grasp firmly on the stroller when we happened upon a loose Killer Rooster.

But I’ve always had a fascination with the Llama, so I made him get out of his stroller to meet Mister Double L.

My feelings for this Llama are quite undeserved, as he is the same Llama that ate Ali’s shirt four years ago, therefore instilling in her a long-standing fear for all things large and fuzzy.

Yet I am still magnetized to him with an inexplicable passion comprised of 50% hatred, 50% fascination.

So while Noah maintained a white-knuckled death-grip on my hair, I held him up to see the Llama.

The Llama ignored us and kept eating.

“See, Noah? The Llama is nice!”

I leaned far over the fence and petted the Llama’s back.

Llama grunted. Noah whined with fear while ripping chunks of hair out of my follicles.

I leaned and petted him again.

The Llama buried his head deeper in his hay, filling his cheeks with an enormous mouthful of straw.

He chewed it for a half a second, then calmly yet intentionally looked directly at me and simultaneously hocked, belched, and projectile vomited directly at my head.

Then indifferently looked down and went back to eating.

I stood there, careful not to open my mouth until I had assessed the damage and location of all Llama Sputum.

I sat the completely un-spat-upon Noah on the ground (Apparently our Llama has the aim and accuracy of a sniper) and reached into my hair, where my hand sank into a giant gooey conglomeration of saliva, Llama bile, and sharp bits of hay.

I panickingly dug around and found Noah’s wet wipes and began to furiously wash my hair.

Noah watched my vain efforts with a look that said it all.

After I removed the largest chunks, I set off to find the Purell.

Awesome. There just happened to have been a Purell thief right outside the Llama exhibit?!?

I glared at him suspiciously, knowing exactly who was hateful enough to steal disinfectant.

He munched away with a gleeful smile hidden under his long, innocent-looking Llama eyelashes.

Carnivorous Creations: The Meat Bouquet.

January 23, 2014January 22, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, I'm a Blog Geek, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Photographical Oddities, Utter Silliness, Weird Strange and True

Originally posted September 1, 2009. And still one of the stupidest things we’ve ever done for a blog post.

Chris has consistently sent me gorgeous flowers throughout our relationship. I have always greatly appreciated this, but have always been burdened with a good bit of guilt at each occurrence of said delivery, because there’s nothing comparably reciprocal to send to a guy.

Guys don’t want flowers.

Guys don’t want balloons.

Guys don’t want candy.

Guys don’t even want the newest in the delivered sweetness choices, floral-looking fruit arrangements.

It’s just not how they’re wired.

Something needs to be done about this gross oversight in our American Culture. What are you supposed to send a man to show him that you love him? So, I decided to hone in one what really lights a guy’s fire and see if I could turn it into a deliverable.

MEAT.

Yes, that’s right. A MEAT arrangement. What guy wouldn’t want to answer the door, only to find a Bouquet of Animal Flesh waiting for him?

Just imagine the advertising….

You love your man.

You really love your man. How do you express it?

Why not a Vase O’ Meat? Or the sizey Pot O’ Meat?

Or even our extra large Garden O’ Meat! The Garden O’ Meat, a veritable fantasy manland where fresh flesh flowers grow from a salty sausage soil… Mmmmmm!!

So, um, anyway…

I started with a nice, manly “vase” and some florist’s foam:

And then prepared my ingredients:

I enlisted a Princess Oversight Service (who also sampled all of the product to ensure top notch quality):

And my own carnivorous husband’s help in creating this truly masculine masterpiece:

We set off to work. Our work areas were a man’s dream buffet:

Granted, some of my our attempts at turning meat into floral masterpieces didn’t work so well:

But the end result would make any man, anywhere drool (and any woman, anywhere, gag):

Included in this bouquet are:

deli meat carnations,
pepperoni azaleas,
bologna/pepperoni lotuses,
cocktail wienie daisies,
mini pepperoni poppies,
bacon irises, and
multi-meated roses.

All finished off with the best thing that compliments meat – cheese – of course.

Premium upgrades included dirt made of sausage, and a lovely bacon/cheese/cocktail wienie arbor in the back of the arrangement:

If men planned weddings, they would get MARRIED under an arbor of those ingredients.

And hold bouquets of meat flowers.

Look at the sheen on the pepperoni!

The bacon, practically still sizzling on the stem:

Yes, this arrangement is a Protein Packer’s Pinnacle of Perfection.

In fact, I guarantee that this arrangement would send ANY red-blooded man into the six stages of complete ecstasy (you will recognize the first five as eerily similar to a girl’s response to a REAL bouquet):

Stage One: Shock. “You shouldn’t have!!”

Stage Two: Thrill. “I’ve NEVER seen anything so breathtaking in all my life!!”

Stage Three: Puppy Love. For you, not the meat. Okay, maybe for the meat, too.

Stage Four: Beholding the Glory.

Stage Five: Smelling the Roses.

Stage Six: Complete Ravenous Chow Down.

That’s right,

Oh, and in case you were worried about our wastefulness in this grand experiment, the arrangement went on to live a happy second life that only increased it’s masculine glory:

PETA, eat your heart out.

Or don’t. That wouldn’t be very Vegan of you.

The Lyrics That Will Kill Us All.

January 21, 2014January 21, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Musically Speaking, The Cartoon Age, Toddlers: The Experience, Weird Strange and True

Today was the day that I realized my two-year-old was a musician.

Not because he’s ever touched an instrument, but by watching his face.

As we were driving home, just the two of us, he kept asking insistently for me to put on “Seven Bridges Road.” I finally did, and turned it up. Then happened to look in the rearview mirror.

It gave me chills.

When the song started with an a cappella four-part harmony, he closed his eyes and assumed a facial expression that can only be described as pure satisfaction. Although I should have been driving, I was drawn to keep watching him. His facial expressions rose and fell with the music, and it was so clear how intently he was listening.

I realized that I needed to buy the kid an Eagles album. He can really appreciate a good harmony.

I found myself wanting to offer up my son more music that might impress him, as if I was trying to find the perfect wine to impress a master sommelier. I decided to try my favorite harmony-heavy song – “Anybody Out There” by Burlap to Cashmere. He intently stared out the window. At first I thought he wasn’t listening, but then I realized he was studying every single note. As the song picked up passion, I started hitting my leg to the beat. He jerked his head around to see where it was coming from – he knew it didn’t belong in the song.

I wrote that last July, but never posted it.

And now, as I write this, I’m listening to now three-year-old Noah on the monitor.

Napping, he is supposed to be.

Singing, he is doing instead.

Over and over and with impressively decent pitch he sings the lyrics – or should I say the one lyric.

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

(Lyric courtesy of Bob the Builder. And Wendy who probably writes all his songs for him.)

It’s not that I didn’t keep my July promise to myself. I’ve exposed this kid to amazing music. We’re talking Ace of Base, The Cranberries, R.E.M., The Lone Bellow, Jump Little Children, Rihanna, and The Presidents of The United States of America!

Every time we get in the car he either requests Umbrella, Seven Bridges Road, Zombie, or Waterfalls. He’s discerning and knows what he likes.

But what gets stuck in his head?

Bob’s remix of Kanye’s “Gold Digger”, that’s what.

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

“I’m a little digger with a heart of gold!”

I can’t really blame him, though. Cartoon songs are laced with Kiddie Crack to imprint them permanently onto their brains (and as collateral damage, our brains), searing the lobe responsible for musical taste, and permanently holding down the repeat button in their (and our) head.

Just try watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood without humming “In some ways we are different. But in so many ways, we are the same!” for the rest of the decade.

So what is the answer to this conundrum?

We must soldier on in our musical brainwashing. Do not falter and sing Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer! when you’re rocking them to sleep.

(It’s called ROCKING them to sleep for a reason.)

And perhaps, just perhaps, if they learn to stand strong and fight against the onslaught of terrible cartoon lyrics now, then one day they’ll be able enough to fight the tide of terrible pop lyrics. Like these.

“Just a shy guy
Looking for a two-ply
Hefty bag to hold my love.”

– Train, “Drive By”

And this is why Glad Trash Bags are so Glad. Because they didn’t get selected for Train lyrics.

“If the light is off then it isn’t on.”

– Hilary Duff, “So Yesterday”

…Unless you can get the switch to that barely-balanced middle spot where it’s hovering between off and on…What about that, Hilary?!?!?! Is it on or off??

“You at the bottom of the barrel scraping
I’m out in LA, at the Ice Age taping.”

– Nicki Minaj, “Roman Reloaded”

Maybe he has more self-respect than you and knows that the bottom of the barrel is better than Ice Age.

“And I’m like… I just… I mean, this is exhausting, you know.
Like, we are never getting back together. Like, ever.’”

–Taylor Swift, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”

They always say to write like you talk…I’m pretty sure Taylor nailed that one.

“You wanna hug me
Hey, hey, hey,
What rhymes with ‘hug me’?”

— Robin Thicke, “Blurred Lines”

Certainly not what you’re implying, Robin. And actually, nothing.

“Mercury, Venus, ha ha!
Uranus!
Don’t you know my a** is famous?”

— Lady Gaga, “Venus”

A true lady never uses Uranus as the punch line of a joke.

“Long distance callers make long distance calls”

– The Clash, “Lost in the Supermarket”

I bet Vonage blew The Clash’s mind.

“Every time I see your bubbly face
I get a tickle in a silly place”

– Colbie Caillat, “Bubbly”

Somebody send Colbie some Monistat.

“Mr. Know It All
You think you know it all.”

– Kelly Clarkson, “Mr. Know It All”

I bet he knows how to write better lyrics.

“I think about it every time I think about it”

– Counting Crows, “Accidentally in Love”

In conclusion, I’m a little digger with a heart of gold isn’t so bad after all.