Rachel Callahan

On Being Gravely Ill.

October 29, 2012October 28, 2012 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Just My Luck

Last week, I experienced a new echelon of sick.

The sickest sick I’ve experienced in many moons. And suns. And stars.

Three days of raging illness with every symptom in WebMD’s rather extensive checklist.

(Except for “craving to eat ice, dirt or paper” but definitely including “poor personal hygiene.”)

The kind of sick that even though I’m a stay-at-home Mom and completely responsible for two little lives, I at times could not, no matter what I tried, hold onto consciousness.

Then I’d wake up to discover that my youngest had blanketed the entire room (including all furniture) with meticulously crushed cracker crumbs, and that my eldest had scattered notes all around my resting place as if she was leaving them on my grave.

It’s actually disturbing how minimally concerned they were by the fact that they seemed to have assumed I had died. They played and chased and entertained themselves, and on the occasion that I would open my eyes, Noah would look over, smile, and say, “Hello, Mommy!!”, with mildly happy surprise over the fact that I’d figured out how to rise from the dead.

But we survived. And most thankfully, no one caught it but me, despite their attempts at convincing me otherwise.

But the fact that no one else ultimately did concede to the illnesses’ control made me suspect a possible chance of food poisoning.

(I did eat leftover shrimp the night before contracting my illness. And shrimp do seem to carry an air of suspicion that other foods do not possess.)

(Except for oysters. I would indict them of any crime over shrimp. But then again I do NOT eat oysters.)

The night after my recovery, I had a very realistic dream of it being the middle of the night (as it was), and me running into Ali’s room just in time to see her voluminously puking off the side of her bed.

…Which was followed up by me screaming at God, with much weeping and gnashing of teeth and caustic questioning of his motives in torturing me so.

(Do you think that God would get upset over someone severely questioning his judgment while dreaming? I do hope not.)

But the worst part of the entire illness was clear: My Illness Weight Loss Amounts fell significantly short of projections. And IWLA is the one silver lining that I suspect everyone, whether they admit it or not, looks forward to at the end of such a virus.

I was cheated. Totally cheated.

But at least I’m not craving dirt.

Secondary iPhone, With Wheels.

October 26, 2012October 25, 2012 Rachel Callahan Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Mystery Solved, Weird Strange and True

Y’all know that I love my car. Right?

*Toast Not Included

For the record, I still do. Her geekiness mirrors my own in a way that creates an intimate bond that I have previously never experienced with an automobile.

(Plus, her cupholders and floorboards have 8 interchangeable brightly colored lighting schemes.)

She constantly surprises me with her intelligence and wit, and sometimes with her abilities of impressive condescension.

Such as, when my gas level gets to below 50 miles, she starts voluntarily popping gas stations onto my navigation screen:

Nothing like a subtle hint. Thanks, Flexi, for making it painfully obvious that you think I’m an idiot. How did I ever not run out of gas without you?

(If she really wanted to be helpful, she’d gauge my mood, level of sleepiness, and the current point in my hormonal cycle and, when needed*, display all of the coffee shops and chocolatiers along my route.)

* Always.

But still, I appreciate her attention to detail.

A few weeks ago, after my Dad had borrowed Flexi to take my kids to the lake, she started doing something new. She had blue arrows next to all of the interstates – one on each side, pointing to the direction in which you were to travel.

At first, I felt like this was another attack on my intelligence. I may not know my left from my right, but I know which direction to drive on the interstate. Why was she telling me this?

Then I wondered what else my Dad had changed in her settings.

I explored the menus, trying to figure out what the purpose of these arrows was, and how to get rid of them if I so desired. But to no avail.

A week went by, blue arrows still annoyingly telling me which way to go.

Then one morning, we went to the McWane center downtown. As I was driving down the Red Mountain Expressway, I noticed one small streak of the arrows on the other side of the interstate were now yellow.

This photo is a Reenactment – I did not take a pic while driving on the interstate. I love you, but not that much.

Then I looked to the left…and there was a traffic jam.

I gasped with shock and surprise.

How did she KNOW?!!?!?

I zoomed out and looked at the city. Yellow arrows…red arrows…road work signs…

Oh my goodness.

She was giving me real-time traffic information.

She is the most brilliant car that ever wheeled the face of the earth.

This began an obsessive checking of traffic anytime I left the house, scouring every area of town to see what I *might* run into if, perchance, I needed to make a 50 mile detour.

I loved my arrows.

Then, on a fateful, horrible, terrible, no-good day, my arrows disappeared.

I tried to get them back, but couldn’t – the button that I had discovered had disappeared.

The Flexi gives, and The Flexi takes away.

For a few days, I attempted several different ways to find my arrows, to no avail. Then finally, it hit me. I should simply ask Flexi where they are.

I hit my talk button.

“Traffic arrows.”

She took me to a menu.

I saw the option, and immediately pushed it.

“I’m sorry, but that is a Sirius service, and you’re not subscribing.”

AHA!! That explains the real-time part of it. A Sirius subscription!

Clearly, I wanted my arrows back. A bit of research turned up that I had been the recipient of a two week free trial, meant to sucker one into subscribing.

(Suckering works, y’all.)

So after about 15 excruciatingly painful phone calls and untold hours of wasted life on the phone with the Sirius’ New Delhi branch, I received my Forever Arrows.

And along with them, bounties of other somewhat useless but infinitely cool information, such as:

Gas Prices,

Theater Listings, Sports Scores, Stock Tickers,

AND my navigation map overlaid WITH A WEATHER RADAR – and WIND SPEED!

I will never get knocked off the road by a gale of unexpected wind again.

Yes, I do realize that I could get all of this (except for the real-time traffic) (and the wind speed) from my iPhone. But having a car smart enough to provide it?

Beautiful.

My Greek Home, and a Giveaway!

October 25, 2012October 25, 2012 Rachel Callahan Delicious Greekness, Giveaways and Contests, Stuff I like

Friday, for lunch. I was toting both kids and meeting two people. At Nabeel’s, of course – there’s a booth in the back that is basically my own personal conference room.

The restaurant was buzzing, people in every dining hall, salads stacked and ready to go out from the open kitchen.

(Photo from a slightly less buzzing day.)

But Lynne saw us, pointed back to my booth that I’m sure was still open because, well, it’s MINE, and told me she’d get Noah a high chair.

She came back with the chair and handed me something wrapped and taped into a piece of receipt paper with “Noah” written across it.

“He left this last time you were here.”

I opened the paper package – it contained one of his Hot Wheel cars.

Noah’s eyes lit up, and he immediately stood up in the booth (because I hadn’t chained him into the high chair yet) and began driving the car on the high-backed wall, perfect for automotive escapades.

Everyone needs a place like this. A place where you’re home. A place where you’re treated like family and royalty all at once.

As we were enjoying our lunch meeting (i.e. as I was wrangling my children in the attempts to eat and meet), the owner, John Krontiras, arrived for the day.

He walked back to our booth with a huge, excited smile on his face.

“Rachel! I’ve been waiting for you to come in! Did you know I wrote a cookbook?”

“Yes!! I got an email about it! I can’t believe I didn’t know sooner!”

John brought me back two copies of his cookbook, both signed. He proudly showed me the beautiful pages, included amazing photos taken by local photographer, Karim Shamsi-Basha.

I took my cookbook with excitement, and found time to look at every photo that afternoon. As I was doing so, I noticed that John had a small story with many of his recipes, and knowing him, I couldn’t wait to read them.

So Saturday night, while Chris was enraptured with the football game, I did something I’d never done before: I read a cookbook from cover to cover.

I marked the pages of the first things I wanted to make: Zucchini Patties, Meatballs Avgolemono, Chicken Wings with Potatoes, John’s Famous Steak, and most definitely Tabouleh, because Nabeel’s is the only place that does it right.

He even included the recipe for the best hamburger in Alabama, his trademarked Bifteki.

The bonus dialogue was fascinating, from stories of growing up in a small town in Greece, to traveling internationally while he was the head of the IT department for a large corporation, to his Mother-In-Law cooking Italian dishes in his kitchen in the early morning before he was awoke.

Because you see, John is Greek, and he married Ottavia, an Italian. So this cookbook is part John’s Greek recipes, part Ottavia’s Italian recipes, and part the mixture of the two together.

Divine.

Before we left the restaurant that day, I questioned him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were working on this? It’s amazing!”

“I didn’t even tell my family until the books shipped from the printer.”

“What?? Why??”

“Because I wanted it to be exciting!”

Clearly, John likes the dramatic.

John and I at Birmingham Restaurant Week

John’s new book, Beloved Family recipes, is available online, at Nabeel’s, Alabama Booksmith, The Fish Market Downtown, Sweet Tea Restaurant, and Little Professor Bookstore. And if you would like to meet this fabulous man (which you totally should), John will be signing his book at the Homewood Public Library on Sunday, 10/28 from 3-5 pm.

But if you’d like to win a signed copy, I have one to send to one of you!

If you would like to enter to win, leave a comment and tell me your favorite food ethnicity or favorite ethnic dish.

This giveaway will be open until Monday, November 5. I will announce the winner Tuesday, November 6 on my Giveaway Winners Page.

Disclosure: I was given a copy of this book. But that’s not why I write about it – I love Nabeel’s with all my heart, and you will find me in there at least once every other week. If you need more proof of my intense love of Nabeel’s, you can read my prior swoonings here, here, and here.

Reasons To Do Life In the Wild.

October 24, 2012October 23, 2012 Rachel Callahan Every Now and Then I Can Be Sappy Too., I would NEVER take too many pictures. . ., Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life, Toddlers: The Experience

We went camping at our favorite North Alabama tiny, unknown campground: Buck’s Pocket.

We went for the endless views,

The time with family,

The campfire,

(and accompanying marshmallows,)

and so that our kids could get a hot breakfast.

Because they only get that when Gramamma is around.

And especially, to get away from it all.

To be in a canyon where cell phones don’t work,

where football can’t be watched,

and where computers don’t exist.

Because there’s just nothing like seeing your kids run and play and enjoy the outdoors like they should.

(I swear – my computer stayed in it’s case in the car the whole time. The rest of my family were nature heathens. Not me.)

(But I did have wi-fi on my iPhone.)

The kids love camping because they get to play with their cousins (like this rousing game of “mean police keeping the bad guys off the slide,”)

get smoked by their much younger cousin’s bravery,

(but never dare change their cautious ways,)

to go on Gramamma’s fabulous treasure hunts,

and to ponder deeply the meaning of life.

…or at least the meaning of why they can’t go camping every day.

My one true reason for going camping – ever – is for the photo ops.

Sure, I enjoy the outdoors…the crisp air…the life slowdown. But the photos. They’re the best.

I don’t know the answers as to why, but my kids are so much cuter in the wild.

Maybe it’s because they have more room to make messes and be loud and run recklessly without destroying my house.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia created by the vintage playground equipment that I myself played on years ago.

Maybe it’s the fresh air and it’s effect on their hair and complexion,

But whatever the reason, every camping trip, I come away with my new favorite photo of each kid.

Ali, October 2011:

Ali, June 2012:

Ali, October 2012:

Noah, October 2011:

Noah, June 2012:

Noah, October 2012:

So if you can’t think of any other reason you’d want to smell like burnt wood for days and obsessively and repeatedly check your kid’s every freckle to make sure none morphed into ticks, I assure you: the photos are worth it.

The Day Little Tykes Failed Me.

October 22, 2012October 20, 2012 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., I embarrass myself just for your amusement., I'm a Glutton for Adventure, I'm a Meme You're a Meme, Just My Luck, Parent of the Year, Toddlers: The Experience

I promised a weekly-ish homeschooling post for a while-ish.

(Last week was my off week, so it doesn’t count.)

This week, I decided to share a typical fail. Because fails are just as common as successes, and I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise.

My dear sweet husband bought a used Little Tykes slide and car for Noah from our dear sweet friend Nikki. He went and picked them up, cleaned them, and took the kids to a nearby flat parking lot for Noah’s first car ride.

He took Ali’s bike, and reported that he was able to almost entirely pay attention to ensuring that Ali didn’t didn’t go down in a fiery crash because Noah was completely content to play in, out, on, and around his car on his own.

Chris even embraced his Blogger-Husband Spirit and wrote a meme from their experience.

The next morning was the first time that Noah noticed the new slide, as Chris had left it in the part of the yard visible from the Dining Room.

This would be great, except that the Dining Room is also the school room, and we couldn’t exactly quit school when he noticed it to go out and play.

Which resulted in this text to Chris.

After a few minutes of alone time, Noah was happy again and we’d gotten a little more school done, so I went and sprung him.

Of course, I hadn’t taken the time to follow Chris’ instructions, so naturally, Noah went right back to the window, and in his baby voice, pled to be allowed to have a little fun in his life.

“Peeeese. Peeeeeeese. PEEEEEEESE???”

In an act of optimism, I decided to move the schoolroom outside.

After all, Chris said Noah was completely independently content the day before…and he loves to be outside. Surely he’d shut up and let us get something done.

I gathered our books, a couple of chairs, got everyone’s shoes on, made myself presentable to be outdoors (translation: adding the proper undergarment beneath my ratty t-shirt), and we headed out, full of positivity and hope.

I suspected that Ali might be jealous of Noah getting to play, but she was oddly undeterred by the unfairness of it all.

What I was not expecting was for Noah, my normally bubbly and cheery toddler, to be a miserable wreck.

I set him in the yard, told him to have fun, and got Ali started on reading.

He climbed up onto the slide and took two trips down.

But something about that tiny slide’s dynamics and our yard’s downhill slope actually went faster than the extremely tall metal one he’d been using independently the weekend before at a playground, and after the second time of landing hard on his butt, he decided it wasn’t for him.

** whine whine whine **

I moved on to Phase Two: I got his car out, which had as of yet been unrevealed. Surely this would seal the deal of awesomeness for playing in the yard.

I put it on the driveway, and told him to have fun.

He got in, got out, got in, got out, then pushed it out of the driveway and into the yard.

He was happy. We could focus, still trying to read page one of Ali’s book.

We made it halfway down page one.

Then resumed the whining.

** whine whine whine **

“Help!!”

I looked at the car. He looked fine.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shoe!!! Help!!! Huck!!”

“Is your shoe stuck?”

“Help! Bee!!”

Finally I got up and went over to check out the nature of his malfunction.

His foot wasn’t stuck. I didn’t see anything wrong.

Until I saw them, that is.

He had managed to park his car right on top of the one thriving ant bed in our backyard, and they were crawling all over the back of the car.

“Oh! Geez!!”

I yanked him out of the car, rolled the car down the hill to knock the unwelcome guests off, and turned around to grab him.

But he was gone, running all over the yard, yelling.

“Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!!”

Great. I finally got a copycat kid.

I set off after him, but he zigzagged around me.

“Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!!”

Finally, I got close enough. I yanked him up, pulled his socks and shoes off, then ripped his pants from his legs.

Sure enough, three fresh ant bites, red and swelling on his leg.

I turned his pants inside out to check for the vicious creatures. He took off again, this time shoeless and mostly naked.

“Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!! Oh! Yeez!!”

I gathered up his clothing, caught him, redressed him, and set him free.

And then tried to peel Ali out of her brother’s car and refocus. On to page two of reading.

Meanwhile, Noah continued to fuss about all of his boundless outdoor playing options, and ending it all with a glorious crash into The Bunny Patch.

Contentment: It’s a terrible thing to waste.

The morning resulted in very little productivity, except for another text to Chris.

All You Need to Know About Project Runway.

October 20, 2012October 20, 2012 Rachel Callahan I'm a Meme You're a Meme, Photographical Oddities, Weird Strange and True

Tiny Bits of Grace.

October 19, 2012October 18, 2012 Rachel Callahan Every Now and Then I Can Be Sappy Too., Storytime, Thoughts about Faith

As my last re-run before getting back to regularly scheduled posts, I wanted to share something that happened last year, but perhaps means more to me this year due to some significant changes in my life. But I’ll get back to that at the end of the post.

Originally Published August 11, 2011.

Ali has an absolutely precious Sunday School teacher named Miss Bobbie. She is about my parent’s age, has grandkids the age of my kids, and is currently undergoing chemotherapy.

…yet she still has the energy, somehow, to wrangle and teach a group of four year olds every other Sunday – and constantly be bubbling over with joy, loving every minute of it.

She has taken on her cancer and resulting chemotherapy as a mission field – she is constantly looking for ways to share God’s love with all of the other people that are with her receiving hours of chemo treatments.

As part of this mission, she uses her Sunday School craft time to allow the kids to write letters and draw pictures for the other chemo patients. She has an amazingly organized system – she hands out the cards, remembers who got which child’s card, remembers a fact about that patient, and then writes that patient’s name and information on an index card to send home with our kids to pray for.

Miss Bobbie’s love for people both humbles and inspires me.

We’ve been praying for Miss Judy Green for several weeks. Ali has enjoyed making cards for her and never forgets to pray for her before bed. She probably doesn’t understand the term “cancer”, but she does understand that Miss Judy Green is sick, that her cards make her happy, and that her prayers make a difference.

A couple of weeks ago, I got an unexpected box in the mail from Build-A-Bear. They occasionally send me items to review to see if I’m interested in giving them away here, or just to give Ali to try out. But this time, they sent me a stuffed teddy bear as a part of their “love.hugs.smiles.” campaign, and all they wanted me to do was give it to someone who could use a smile – no strings attached.

Immediately, I thought of Miss Judy Green.

Then I dismissed it as silly – what grown woman wants a child’s toy?

Upon further deliberation, though, I decided that it would be good for Ali, so we set out decorating the “Bear Condo”.

Ali literally spent hours painstakingly and perfectionistically coloring the box.

She wrote “Miss Judy Green” across the top,

And, even though she’d been working on it for a week, she still put the last finishing touches on it right before we walked out the door for church.

She really wanted to take the bear to the hospital and march it into Miss Judy Green’s room, but I did my best to explain that we couldn’t do that. So she delivered the bear to Miss Bobbie, and then began the impatient wait for Miss Judy Green to receive her gift.

One week went by, but Miss Bobbie only teaches every other week. Two weeks went by, and she couldn’t wait to ask Miss Bobbie, “Did you give my bear to Miss Judy Green??”

“No, not yet – I haven’t seen her again.”

On Monday afternoon, Ali and I received a phone call from Miss Bobbie.

She had chemo that morning (and still amazingly had the sound of boundless energy). When she arrived, she had asked the nurse if she could get Miss Judy Green’s mailing address. As there are hundreds of people in and out of the chemo treatment room, she doubted that she would run into her again.

The nurse skeptically said that she would have to contact the patient, ask for permission, and get back to her later.

I have a feeling that Miss Bobbie’s exuberance may have pushed the nurse into starting the process right then. And as she was checking for her contact information, she said, “I’ve got better news: She’s going to be receiving her treatments with you today!”

As it turned out, she was sitting directly across from Bobbie. She explained her delivery and gave the bear to Miss Judy Green.

…who happens to be a retired elementary school teacher and adores children.

…and who happens to collect teddy bears.

Divine appointment.

Her face lit up as she told Miss Bobbie that she would be sleeping with the bear that very night, and she was going to name him ChemoBear – she needed a new friend to help lift her spirits during this time.

As Bobbie told me this story and relayed Miss Judy Green’s excitement and emotion over her gift, I realized that none of it had been accidental.

Ali had not accidentally gotten assigned to pray for Miss Judy Green.

Build-A-Bear had not accidentally sent me a bear to give to anyone I wished.

I did not accidentally think of Miss Judy Green.

Miss Judy Green had not accidentally been scheduled to get chemo on Monday, directly across from Bobbie.

ChemoBear was meant for her, because God doesn’t just like to do huge things in our lives – He goes out of His way to orchestrate multiple people, events, and even corporations just to send tiny reminders of His grace and His love right when we need it the most.

And the privilege of Him allowing Ali to be a part of that gift and see how she can touch other people’s lives – what a priceless treasure.

Miss Bobbie has finished her treatments and is in remission. I do not know Miss Judy Green’s status, but I pray that she also is enjoying normal life again.

My Dad leaves on Monday to go to Memphis for cancer treatments for his Ocular Melanoma that was discovered in August. He will have a plaque attached to his eye, which will be made of gold and contain a radioactive seed that will be focused at the cancer. He and my Mom will have to stay in Memphis for a week (because his radioactive eye will be tracked by Homeland Security and disallowed to cross state lines), and then the doctors will remove the plaque. The purpose of this treatment is to keep his cancer from spreading.

Although Ali has been praying for Pop to get “all better” for months, I have been afraid to use the “C” word with her. However, re-reading the above post brought tears to my eyes and reminded me of the positivity of a child, the faith of a child, and the encouragement that a child can bring. Such as this note that Ali chose to write during one of her quiet times, on this quite appropriate note card that she managed to find on her own:

So last night, I told Ali that Pop was going to Memphis for cancer treatments.

Her response was, “What even IS cancer? I’ve never known what that means all my life.”

— leave it to an adult to forget that kids don’t have their same traumatic associations with words.

But whether she understands or not, I’m glad she knows.

Because children have power.

Children’s actions have power.

Children’s prayers have even more power.

…and I personally think that God really likes to show off for children, just like He did for Ali and Miss Judy Green.

How to Make Word Search Gift Wrap.

October 18, 2012October 17, 2012 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational

This was my favorite holiday memory from last year, and I’m pretty sure it was Ali’s as well. I am already trying to figure out what I could do this year to rival it, because my Mister Christmas Husband would surely not approve of doing the same paper two years in a row.

But just in case some of you are starting to think about the holidays, I figured I’d repost it during my week of reruns – because if one of you did it and sent me pictures, it’d almost be like me getting to do it all over again. Oh – and I’m also accepting ideas for this year’s gift wrap.

There’s always at least one odd “homemaker” skill that a wife learns from her husband. My Dad, being Greek and therefore a born-that-way amazing cook, taught my Mom everything she knows in the area of culinary skills.

Chris, being Mister Christmas himself, taught me everything I know about wrapping presents.

He has instilled in me a need to wrap perfectionistically and originally every year. And I must say, I love the challenge.

This year, I saw a wrapping paper idea on Pinterest – it was commercially made word search paper, where you could circle phrases like “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Birthday”.

I liked the idea, but I wanted to do it a bit more personally. So I decided to make my own Word Search Wrapping Paper with everyone’s names built into it – and it was much, MUCH cheaper.

There are plenty of word search creation websites out there, but the one I landed on was on Discovery Education.

I chose 40 letters across by 40 letters down under Step 1, selected the “text” option under Step 4, and entered everyone’s names that would be receiving presents from us in Step 5.

Then I realized that I wanted everyone’s names to show up multiple times so that I could easily find it and so that it would be in different spots on the paper. The website wouldn’t do multiple names, but seeing as how I was making a word search, it didn’t matter what letters were after the name, so I added unique names to my list like so:

KITTY
KITTYA
KITTYB
KITTYC
KITTYD

(The site said to make sure that there wasn’t any unintentional foul language in my word search, but I didn’t check. So if your present cusses at you, I do apologize.)

Since I selected the text option, after it generated, I just highlighted and copied the text and pasted it into Word. I set my paper size to 11 x 17, and copied the grid twice on my document.

This is where it is convenient that I’m married to an engineer, because then I sent my file to work with Chris and he printed it to PDF at 11 x 17, then printed to scale on 24 x 36 paper:

You wouldn’t have to print on such large paper, because I got multiple presents out of one sheet. But if you’re not married to a man with access to a drafting printer and you do want it on large paper, you can get it printed at any print/copy store or drafting supply company (like Alabama Graphics).

I enrolled Ali’s enthusiastic help in finding the names I needed (which was a great way to include her in the process AND entertain her while I wrapped presents),

Then I used a red highlighter or a black sharpie to circle the names before I wrapped.

The regular paper wrapped surprisingly well – much better than the flimsy wrapping papers at most stores.

Since it’s color neutral paper, my options are wide open to use all of the ribbons I’ve had for years that clashed or didn’t go with any wrapping papers – I plan on using every single one of them by the time I’m done wrapping.

And, by nature of being Word Search wrapping paper, no labels required!

…now if I can just keep Ali from circling all of the other names on the paper and completely mixing up the identity of the stash.

Can’t Buy Me Love.

October 16, 2012October 15, 2012 Rachel Callahan Photographical Oddities, Utter Silliness, Weird Strange and True

My bank may put a freeze on my accounts for reposting this, but I just HAVE to.

Because Chris got a personalized thank you note in the mail last week. From a female teller. Thanking him for his business.

Fortunately for me, when I originally posted this, my commenters informed me of these elusive collectible postcards, so no worry was had.

But wow.

Originally Posted September 29, 2011

The CEO of my bank is a Tween Girl.

She is sitting at the top of her skyscraper downtown in her pink bedazzled office suite, chewing Bubble Yum, flipping through her Justice catalog, painting her nails a fabulous shade of Purple Me Tender, and talking on her jewel-cased iPhone.

“I know, like, right?? He is SOOO fetch. Oh – and girl, we have GOT to get together with Jordin and McKenna and do one of those all-jumping-in-the-air-at-the-same-time photos – ya know??? It would just be, like, SQUEE!!!”

I came to this conclusion due to the nature of my deposit receipts.

It started a couple of years ago, when, I presume, the Traditional Old Bald Male CEO must have handed off his reigns to his granddaughter.

At first, I thought the oddity was just due to a bizarre teller.

I drove to the drive-thru, slid my deposit into the drawer, and then received my standard green and white receipt back – except this time it had a personal note on it.

Written in large, curly cursive,

Um. What?

Is she…hitting on me??

I know that I come to the bank a lot… but LOVE???

All of a sudden, I felt an awkward haze between Mandy and I. I half expected to discover that she had also coated my receipt in a Romilda Vane-esque love potion, sure to send me into a romantic day dream about holding hands through the drive-thru drawer.

But then on my next visit, I received a similar declaration of affection from a different teller.

Then another,

and another.

And it was then that I realized: This was no coincidence. Nor was this just a Bored Teller Time Filler – this was a declaration from the top. They have been commanded to do this in a legitimate corporate memo somewhere.

To All Employees Carrying out Teller Duties:

Effective immediately, please notate a revision in your employee handbook under Section 11 Chapter J subsection 37 stating that all receipts are to be personally signed in a font of the female persuasion and declaring great feelings of affection toward the customer.

A few months into this apparent corporate guideline, the “love” usage seemed to fade out, but they continued to lavish upon me girly, curly, and quite odd notes, considering the professional nature of the business transaction that was occurring.

But the love was most definitely and quite conspicuously missing. I could only assume that an alignment to protocol had been made.

To All Employees Carrying out Teller Duties:

Please make an adjustment in your routine to discontinue the usage of the word “love” when carrying out your duties prescribed in Section 11 Chapter J subsection 37 – we seem to be confusing certain customers unnecessarily, and some tellers are reporting an uncomfortable increase in phone number requests from male clientele. However, please continue writing a thanks and a signature in the aforementioned font of the female persuasion.

I began to find myself desiring to collect these receipts like trading cards, and desperately wished that I had saved some of the early vintage notes that housed such great affection toward me.

But even without the love, they still held an odd fascination for me.

Ooh look! I’ve got two Whitneys! One’s even in pink – surely that makes it worth more??

And OH!! The Elusive Male Teller signature!!! How refreshing and un-curly-cued. I wonder if he’ll get a bad review for his lack of flair??

Oh, speaking of flair – look at Heather!! She added a smiley!!

And does that one say ENJOY LIFE???? That’s almost better than love there – it’s gotta be a rare find for sure.

OOOH – look at her. Curly to the max, but it’s a stamp. Personally, I deduct points for using a stamp. It’s a sign of laziness.

And this dude – “Mr. Alex”?!?!? on a stamp?!? Who gets a stamp made saying Mr. anything these days??? What kind of banker do you think you are – Mr. Potter??

And Brittney – wow. Might want to try a narrower point marker, honey…

Oh! Oh! Oh!! An Elusive Vintage Heart!!! I feel loved and adored again!!!

…but she didn’t sign her name.

(sigh)

…But the true jewel of my collection would be if I could get ahold of just one of our Tween CEO’s emails. I bet they are written in pink Curlz font, 32 points big, and with dancing kittens in the background.

meow, meow, meow.

Love,

Rachel.

The Day He Received His Third Nipple.

October 15, 2012October 15, 2012 Rachel Callahan Uncategorized

The extremely high time requirements of my last post have kept me behind on everything (including blogging) for the past several weeks. To celebrate finally completing that project (and to have a bit of time to catch up on writing and emails and dishes and lying comatose on the couch), I’m going to publish a few re-runs this week.

Originally posted September 13, 2011

Chris, upon changing Noah’s clothes for bed…

“Um, how did Noah get a third nipple?”

Well, you see, it’s a long story, babe.

It all started with a successful mall trip.

Too successful, really – I should have been suspicious of the trouble headed my way. I had managed to make it to two stores that I needed to go to, return two items to said stores, score a pair of $1.99 pajamas for Noah, let Ali spend some money she’d been saving, meet our friends and NONE OF OUR FOUR KIDS EVER CRIED, eat lunch, AND have a first two-kidded carousel ride – again with the no crying part.

Yes, successful indeed. I walked out of the mall, patting myself on the back while applying my SuperMom badge.

We arrived at the car and I parked the stroller beside it to begin the grueling process of loading two kids, baggage, and a stroller into the car. Right as I initiated my stroller emergency brake, a lady in scrubs walked up.

Wait a minute – those aren’t scrubs.

That, my friends, is a scrubs-colored pant suit – scrubs-blue from head to foot, and not because it was her required uniform.

Wow.

As I was pondering her wardrobial choices, I realized she was headed for the car directly next to mine. To which my stroller was blocking the way.

Of all the hundreds of cars in this parking deck and thousands of cars at the mall in general, and she HAD to be parked in the one right next to me, ON the side that I was utilizing for child loading. Awesome.

Augh. I had a lot of unloading and shuffling to do to get out of her way.

Ali in the car.

Bags in the car.

Purse in the car, WITHOUT the keys – keys in my hand.

So far so good.

She was waiting patiently, not yet tapping her OHMYGOODNESS HER SHOES MATCH HER PANT SUIT foot, but I could tell the tapping was gonna start any minute.

I started getting faster.

I pulled Noah out of the stroller, but his paci clip got hung on his stroller and ripped off.

Now I was holding Noah, paci clip, and trying to figure out how to close the stroller one-handedly to get it out of her way – foot tapping would NOT wait for me to put Noah in the car first – I could sense it.

I had to ditch something, so I quickly reapplied the paci clip with the zero free hand that I had.

This was the wrong decision.

Noah immediately looked shocked and started crying – dang it!! What have I done?!?!

I unclipped the paci clip, frightened at what I thought I did.

I lowered his shirt and looked.

I had indeed. I had clipped his paci clip one layer too deep.

Thoughts started flooding my mind…

I AM A HORRIBLE, DESPICABLE, NO GOOD MOM.

…but wow – that looks exactly like a third nipple.

I AM AWFUL, DESERVING THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF PUNISHMENT.

I wonder how long he’ll have a third nipple from this incident…and will he name it Nubbin’?

I AM THE SCUM ON THE BOTTOM OF A SCUM’S SHOE.

I can’t believe a paci clip company could make such a dangerous product…after all, it’s all their fault, right?

NO NO NO. IT’S MINE. ALL MINE. I DESERVE TO BE EATEN BY R.O.U.S. WHILE BURNING IN A FIRE SWAMP.

I still can’t believe how much that looks like a nipple. The design of that paci clip jaw is uncanny.

I finally managed to close my gigantic stroller zerohandedly, comfort my baby about his new feature, and get tri-nippled baby into the car.

Did I just hear a foot tap?!?

I glared at her car through my window. I hope you’re happy with the price I paid!!

(Or Noah paid, rather.)

…And that, dear husband, is how your son got his third nipple.