Merry Happy Christmas Holidays

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!  Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!
I don't quite understand the big uproar over holiday greetings.  People have been saying "Happy Holidays" for years without problems.  Bing Crosby sang it in 1942.  No one yelled or grumbled about it then.  The grumbling started when people decided they didn't want to offend those who do not celebrate Christmas, by saying "Merry Christmas", so they started saying "Happy Holidays".  That's nice.  Not offending others is a good practice in life.  But you can't please everyone.   Suddenly the people who DO celebrate Christmas were offended.  This whole thing can be fixed pretty easily though: everyone who is offended by a holiday wish of any sort should stuff it.  When someone tells you Happy Holidays, or Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, etc....they aren't doing so with malicious intentions.  No one is thinking "Oooh, this guy looks like he's Jewish, I'm gonna burn his butt by wishing him  Merry Christmas."  or "Oh ho!  This lady is a stubborn old Christian, I'll say Happy Holidays just to piss her off".  No.  They are wishing you a joyous, happy, fun, loving, family-filled holiday (whatever holiday it is you celebrate).  I celebrate Christmas but if someone were to wish me a Happy Hanukkah or a Joyous Kwanzaa I would not be offended.  I am open minded enough to recognize and accept that other people, other countries, other religions have different practices and holidays than me.  There is so much negativity and misunderstanding in this world, I am happy to accept their blessing for a wonderful day.  So, next time someone tells you "Happy Holidays", don't gripe and moan, or grumble or argue.  Say "Thank you!" and be grateful that they chose to say something (anything) nice to you in the first place!

Finding Your Place

Madison is in her 4th year of Girl Scouts with the same troop.  For a while I was considering changing what troop she was in.  You see, she goes to a different school than the rest of the girls.  She is the only one.  All the other girls have been in school with each other since kindergarten.  They only meet once a month.  During some activities, Madison would be left out.  If the girls had to choose partners or teams, Madison was the last one to be chosen.  She was an outsider.  She never said anything but I could see in her face that it bothered her. So all school year I have kept my eyes and ears open for troops at Madison's school.

This last month or so has changed my mind.  The girls have "secret buddies" this year.  They each had to write a letter to their secret buddy, in code.  After decoding her letter, Madison discovered that her letter said "It's fun having you in our troop."  Last week, we arrived a little late to the meeting (we have to come from a different school after all).  All the other girls looked up, smiled and said "Hi Madison!"  Then, last night, we ran into one of the girls from the troop at a community event.  Madison walked up and said hi, and the two stuck together for the rest of the night.

So I guess I will leave her in the troop.  It seems her outsider status is finally fading away.  Plus, I know it's good to be exposed to different groups of people so you can learn to interact with various personalities.  It may take time but eventually you find your place.

Seussy Blues

Here's a taste of some of my poetry. This one came out a little Dr Seuss-y. I started it sometime last week when I was having one of those days. You know what I mean. Just blah about everything, everyone, everywhere. Finished it up today:

GROUCH

I'm feeling down in the dumpies today

"happy" and "go-lucky" have run away

I've got no reason to feel so down
I'm trying desperately to lose the frown

I even dressed up before leaving the house

well-fitting jeans and a brand-new blouse

my leather jacket and my favorite shoes

lookin' so good I just couldn't lose

my hair's done up with a cute little hat

who could be grumpy looking like that

yes, yes, that's right, it's true, I can

this depressed mood has ruined my plan

back to my jammies, back to the couch

back under blankets for this grumpy old grouch

I'll come out again on some sunny day

when the "down in the dumpies" have gone away

Make sure you leave a comment below to tell me what you think and so I know whether anyone is actually reading any of this :)

** all writing contained in this blog are the property of and copy-written to Rachel Gage, unless otherwise specified.  Nothing may be used or reproduced without written consent. **
** clipart remains the property of the original owner**

Eeeek! Snow!

Dear Other Drivers,
   
     I will be the slowpoke on the road in the winter.  Not because the snowy road scares me (yes, it does) but because I have a healthy respect for ice.  During my college years, unseen ice on the roads put my car into a spin, not once, not twice, but on THREE different occasions.  So yes, I will be the slowpoke.  I will give myself extra time to get to wherever I am going.  I'm sorry if I get in your way or slow you down.  However, I will also be the one laughing and waving as I pass by you after you've slid into the ditch.  I will be the one who makes it to my destination in one piece, though possibly a little late.
   
      If there is enough snow on the road to see others' tire tracks, there is enough snow to wipe you out.  If the road is shiny, it's icy, not just wet.  The fact that your great big fancy SUV has 4-wheel-drive doesn't make you invincible.  I have 4-wheel-drive too.  It may help you get going, but trust me, 4 wheels won't stop any better on a sheet of ice than 2 wheels.
   
     So.....put down your coffee.....turn off your phone.....pay attention.....have patience.....and, good grief,  SLOW DOWN!
   
     Sincerely,
The safe (but slow) driver in front of you

Removing the Mask

I'm tired of pretending.  I feel like I've come to a point in my life where I need to reinvent myself.  Well, maybe not so much reinvent myself, as reshape the image that others have of me. I feel like I have gone through life doing, saying and being what was expected, suppressing my own self.  Now, every now and then, I just let myself be myself.  For instance, I wore a cute little hat to work the other day.  I got several compliments "Cute hat", "very stylish" but I also caught a few people sending funny looks my way.  They didn't come out and say anything but I saw their thoughts in their eyes: "a little old to wear something like that" or "trying to be something she's not", "who is she trying to fool".  I'm not trying to fool anyone now.  But I have gone through life doing just that, being something I'm not, because that's what people came to expect from me.  The the good daughter, the good student, the good employee, the one who never gets mad, and never swears, the boring, homebody wife and mother  - goodie, goodie two-shoes.  My husband and I never used to go out - but it wasn't because we didn't want to , or didn't like socializing with others.  We had young children at home, and chose to be responsible parents.  A couple years ago, I got a little tipsy in the presence of a couple coworkers and the real me escaped for a little while.  I was dancing, laughing, telling jokes and publicly flirting with (gasp) my own husband.  One of my coworkers said in a surprised tone (and I QUOTE) "Wow, Rachel knows how to have fun!"

So, how do you stop pretending and be yourself without shocking and alienating everyone?  Many of you would say "So what if it shocks people, just be yourself.  If they don't like it, to hell with them."  For the most part, I agree.  But my family and the friends I have accumulated through my life are too important to me to just say "to hell with them".  I will need to introduce the real me slowly for their sake as well as my own.  After all, old habits are hard to break, and I have been pretending for a very long time.  Someday, when I have completely shed this mask, people will probably look back and think that I went through a mid-life crisis, and changed.  But I will know the truth.

Peek into My Journal

I've decided to put myself out there a little more.  I think most people by now have figured out that I am a photographer.  I think I also mentioned it in my very first blog.  My son asked me once "Mom, why do you always take pictures of everything?"  The only answer I could give him was "Because that's just what I do."  It's a part of me.  I am compelled to take pictures.  Let me give you an example so maybe you can understand:

During the summer, the sun rises in my rear view mirror as I drive to work in the morning.  It always seems to be a particularly gorgeous sunrise on the days when I am running late.  I actually talk to myself "Rachel, you don't have TIME to stop and take a picture of that sunrise.  I don't care how beautiful it is."  But I have to do it.  I can't continue my drive to work, and ignore that photo, just sitting there waiting to be taken.  I can't NOT stop.  You know what I mean?  

But there's something that most people DON'T know about me.  I mentioned it in my first blog as well.  In addition to photography, I also write.  It started with a poetry assignment in 6th grade.  I have continued to write poetry, and have recently (within the last 5 years or so) begun writing stories.  One story in particular could probably be a published romance novel if I could ever get the words out of my head and onto paper.    I have also written a few short stories, though I most likely will not share those here.  The language, intensity and sexuality of my short stories would shock anyone who knows me.  In fact, I don't think I've even let my husband read any.  I think the lead female in my short stories in my alter ego.  She always ends up resembling me a little, but she says and does things I have never said or done - not enough guts or too strong of morals.  Last night, I just couldn't get to sleep due to the beginnings of a brand new story swirling through my mind.  So at 1am I gave in, got up, found a notebook, and scribbled away.  I would like to share with you, my readers (you ARE out there right?  SOMEONE is reading this??) what I have so far:

     He was so young, and she was married.  Those sinfully delicious thoughts shouldn’t have been filling her head, but they were.  She shouldn’t have been obsessing about him, but she was.  All she could think about was how she wanted to press herself against him and kiss him so deeply, so sensually, it would make his head spin, make his blood boil.  She thought he might be attracted to her too but it was hard to tell.  It had been so long since she even looked at any man other than her husband.

     She wasn’t a typical beauty.  She was a mother of two.  With each pregnancy she had added a little weight, but she was round and soft in all the right places.  Her hair was mousy brown but silky to the touch.  She had cut it short a few years back, but it was cut in such a way that, when styled just right, could show the fun and funky wild side she usually kept hidden from the world.  She taught an art class at the local college, three nights a week.  That’s where she met him.

     When she had walked into the classroom for the first time, she noticed him right away.  He sat in the back row.  Thin and lanky, he had his legs stretched out as if he was in his own living room.  He appeared relaxed and mellow, but under his baseball cap she could see his eyes taking in everything in the room, including her.  Springy hair thinly covered his cheeks and chin, as if he hadn’t shaved in a week or two.  It didn’t take away from his looks though.   In fact, in her opinion, scruffy was sexy.   When he took his turn to stand and introduce himself, rather than looking at the rest of the class, he looked only at her and by the time he was done, she felt as though he had undressed her with his eyes.

     She told herself that she imagining things of course, that she was being silly.  But she couldn’t help noticing over the next few weeks, how the models in his assignments bore some resemblance to her.  This one had her hair color and style.  That one had her eyes, the shape of her eyebrows, the exact slope of her nose.  She even recognized her own birthmark peeking out from the model’s neckline.  Again, she told herself she was being ridiculous, merely looking for similarities, and finding what she was looking for.  

**All writing and photos contained within this blog are original work and copywritten to Rachel Gage.  Nothing may be reproduced or used in any way without express written consent from the owner.**

Medical Disappointment

I am sitting in my living room crying tears of disappointment after my doctor's appointment today.  Don't worry, nothing major is going on.  I have a skin condition called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. I think I spelled that right, but how 'bout we just call it HS.  It's a cousin of acne.  But it causes large swollen, painful lumps under the skin, in various places on your body.  My first memory of it was back in college. It's a close enough cousin to acne that it has been successfully treated with the acne medication Accutane.  If it works, I would be taking it for the rest of my life to control the HS.  Accutane can cause some horrendous birth defects, so going on the drug requires you to be registered with a federal program called iPledge.  There is a lot involved with iPledge.  First you must not be able to conceive.  OK.  I had my tubes tied 7 years ago.  I'm good there, right?  Nope.  As long as my uterus and ovaries are intact, I am still considered able to conceive in the eyes of iPledge.  That means I would have to go on birth control.  Wait, the whole reason I GOT my tubes tied was so I wouldn't have to worry about birth control.  So if I have to take Accutane forever to control my skin's HS, then I have to take birth control forever???  AND, before each month's prescription is written, a new pregnancy test must be taken.  EVERY MONTH!!!  Second thoughts started entering my head.  Also, blood tests to check the function of my liver had to be performed before starting it.  Of course, they also have to tell you about a drug's side effects.  So they include:

• possible worsening of asthma (great, I haven't even gotten my asthma officially diagnosed yet, and now I'm going to make it worse?)
• possible worsening of joint pain (I have a knee/hip problem that already causes occasional disabling pain.  so that could be worse too?)
• possibility of severe depression and suicide (oh but I'll have clear skin!!!)
• you can't donate blood while you are on Accutane (I donate at least twice a year)
• may affect your vision, so no driving at night for the first couple weeks (um, how do I gt home when I close at work???)

The list went on and on, but these were the ones that bothered me the most.  So I made a tough decision.  I told the doc I changed my mind and didn't want to go on this medication.  I would just live with the HS as I have been.  On my way home, I cried in the car.  I had been excited to start this medication and end the painful symptoms of HS, end the scarring, the embarrassment.  The disappointment was huge. But the risks far outweighed the one benefit: clear skin and no more HS sores.   

I feel better now.  This is almost like therapy.  Oh do you or anyone you know have Hidradenitis Suppurativa?  How do you (or they) handle it?

**All writing and photos contained within this blog are original work and copywritten to Rachel Gage.  Nothing may be reproduced or used in any way without express written consent from the owner.**

The Color Purple

No, I'm not talking about Whoopi Goldberg's movie.  I'm talking about the color PURPLE.  If you don't know me, or haven't figured it out yet, I like purple.  I really like it.  It's my favorite color.  I have a purple leather wallet.....made myself a purple purse.....I write with purple pens.....I have purple gloves for work.....I painted by bathroom a lovely pale purple, with purple towels.....If I could, I would paint my car purple...one of my favorite poems is about purple:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

~ Jenny Joseph

So when I was browsing through the 75% off Halloween stuff at Meijer last week, you can imagine my excitement when I came upon a tube of purple hair gel.  How exciting!  I don't use bright colors regularly.  But, years ago, I found a purple temporary foam hair color that you just shampooed in, and shampooed out.  It was fun.  It just kinda tinted my hair slightly purple, and at the time I had a dark, DARK dye job, so it wasn't bad. Looked nice actually.  Earlier this year, I spiked my hair with red hair gel (LOTS of red hair gel) and took some pictures:

It was fun, and the pictures turned out cool, but it's not a look I intend to wear out of the house. Also, my job doesn't allow "un-natural" hair colors.  Translation: no purple (or RED) hair at work.

So I waited for my day off - today - to play around with the purple gel.  I was disappointed.  It didn't come out like the red.  In fact, you can hardly tell it's there at all.  I could probably wear it to work, and no one would even notice.  Maybe I didn't use enough?  After all, I did use a LOT of the red gel in the picture up there.  Maybe tomorrow I'll add more and see if I can turn myself into a punk.  I'll let you know.

Filed Away

Today, while I was at work, I saw someone I knew.  When I first saw him, my brain didn't register who it was but I thought "He looks familiar."  Another regular customer perhaps.  Then I did a double take.  It was a classmate of mine from Grand Marais.  "What are YOU doing HERE?" I exclaimed.

It's strange how we don't instantly recognize someone we know, when we see them in different-than-usual surroundings.  In my mind, different aspects of my life are filed away in different places.  There's the Petoskey file:  this is where my kids' friends, teachers and my coworkers are.  There's the Grand Marais file: this is where my best friend, my dad and sister, and my high school classmates live.  And there's a Downstate file: my mom and former Grosse Pointe classmates go in there.  Most of the time these files stay separate.  I see Grand Marais people only in Grand Marais, Petoskey people only in Petoskey, etc.  But every now and then, there's a crossover.  Like when someone from Petoskey goes and vacations in Grand Marais.  Or when a classmate from Grand Marais shows up in Petoskey (like today!!).  There ARE a few permanent crossovers.  There are a few former Grand Marais residents living in Petoskey or the surrounding small towns.

When these crossovers happen it's weird.  It almost feels like an invasion.  I'm almost eager to get the experience over so I can get back to whatever "life" I was in the middle of. But I don't understand why I feel that way.

Small Stuff

me:  "Thanks and have a great afternoon."
guy1:  "Yeah, and thanks for cutting in line."
guy2:  "What was that?"
guy1:  "You jumped in front of the line."
guy2:  "She opened a register and....."
guy1:  "No, she said she'd take the next in line"
guy2:  "Look, I'm not going to argue with you.  Guys like you are always causing problems."
guy1: "You ARE the problem, ASSHOLE!"

Raised voices, pointing fingers, red faces, profanities thrown.  Sounds like a scene from a bad movie.  But it's not.  It the scene that transpired in my line at work today, shortly before my shift was over.   I actually thought it might come to blows.  After they left, my heart was racing, my hands were shaking, and I felt generally harassed.  Why did this nasty conversation between two strangers, that didn't directly involve me, affect me so much?   I was simply trying to help them out so they didn't have to wait in line.  I guess I should have let them wait.  A book title jumps to mind and I'd like to suggest those two "gentlemen" read it: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff.  Life is too short and trust me, whether you're first or second in line is definitely small stuff.

Parental Opportunities

Dear Diary,
It's been almost 2 months since I wrote last.  I TOLD you it wouldn't be a regular thing!

Parenting is a tough subject.  Every person who has kids thinks that how they do things is the right way.  I'm not claiming to be the perfect parent.  I'm sure there are things I could have done, or could do in the future, better.  For instance, if I could, I would be home more often so my 13-year-old could be a kid more, instead of having to babysit his sister.  It's not like he has to do it every day, or all day.  But in a 13-year-old's life, babysitting your sibling(s) even just a few hours, a couple times a week is torturous.  I know.  I had to do it.  But hey, I turned out OK, right?  Don't answer that.

The one thing I know I do well though, is spend every minute I can with them.  Even if we are at home doing nothing.....we are at home doing nothing together.  When I get off work, I don't go grocery shopping, or hanging out with friends.  I go home, to my kids.  Whether they admit it or not, whether they like it or not, they need me.  My daughter, who's 8, needs me to keep her on task while she does her homework.....and help her spell words that are not familiar to her.....and keep her on task while she does her homework.  When she's done, she needs a hug and a "Good job!" from me.  She needs me to tell her to go play outside instead of sitting in front of the TV......again.  My son, 13, needs me to make sure he does his homework.....check his math.....help him find social studies information in the internet.  He needs me to joke around with him about girls - though he says he hates that:  "Mooooom, I don't HAVE a girlfriend!"  He needs me to keep his sister occupied so he can go play with friends, oh excuse me, "hang" with his friends.  He needs me to give him a curfew, and remind him about it every time he leaves the house.  He needs me to set ground rules (no drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no girls).  Well that last one USED to be no girls, now it's no kissing, in the nearby future it will be no sex.  He needs (and this is really the most important) for me to enforce those rules, and give him consequences if he breaks them.

My children need bedtimes, and bedtime routines. Sometimes they need to be reminded of different ways to have fun: playing a board game, baseball in the yard, dancing in the rain, climbing a tree.  When they were little, they needed me to read to them, so they would start learning to read.  When we are out in public, they need to be reminded of manners, and "inside voices" and proper behavior in a store.  Um, they get that reminder a lot.  Haven't quite learned that lesson yet.  Especially when we go in the store where I work.  Since I work there, and they have been there so much in the past 5 years, I think they feel at home...........and act accordingly.  However, Lowe's is not the place to play tag or run down the aisles and slide on your knees.  So I constantly remind them how they are supposed to behave, and that this is my workplace and it's embarrassing for my coworkers to think my kids are barbarians who don't know how to behave in a store.

My kids need me to use every experience, good or bad, as a teaching experience.  When we go shopping, I help my daughter figure out how much money she has (by counting ALL her dimes, nickels and pennies, ugh) and deciding which toy, if any, she can afford.  When we watch the news and see someone was arrested for a sex crime, not only do I remind my kids that there are creeps out there and they shouldn't talk to strangers unless it's absolutely necessary - I also talk to my son about "no means no" and how a sexual arrest will follow you for the rest of your life.  There was a tragic accident near our home in which a Petoskey senior was killed while trying to change a flat.  I used the situation as a teaching tool for my soon-to-be-driving son.  There were several lessons to learn there, for both of us.

My point is this.  Children need their parents.  Not just for a roof over their heads and food on the table at mealtime.  They need instruction, attention, rule setting, discipline, love.  Life is full of little opportunities.  I worry sometimes that I won't get to all of them, and I feel so sad for the kids of parents who don't even try.

Status Shuffle Frame of Mind

I watched "The Social Network" a few days ago.  It was eye opening.  I know it was just a movie, but it WAS based on actual events that occurred as Facebook came into being.  Now, several years later, it has changed the world.  We all communicate in 140 characters or less.  Quirky, funny, whiny, whatever.  We have a friend list full of people we know, or knew once, or met once.  It even changed the way we think.  Yes, think.  How many times have you said "Oh my god, I have to Facebook that!"  Or "Check out what I posted on Facebook!"  Do I HAVE to go online to check it out?  Can't you just tell me??


Have you ever caught yourself thinking in Facebook status mode?  As I'm going through my day I realize the thoughts that flow through my head are something like:

• Rachel is waiting for her pants to dry before going to work, cuz she forgot to put them in the dryer last night.
• Rachel is on her way to work, and running late, but MUST stop to take a picture of this sunrise.
• Rachel is on Facebook, while watching the movie ABOUT Facebook, LOL.
• One batch down, one to go.  Who wants zucchini bread?  Too bad, it's all mine.

Then I catch myself analyzing each of these thoughts.  How many "likes" would that status bring?  Is it funny?  Is it inspiring?  Is it whiny?  Or would it make someone think "Who the < insert expletive of choice here> cares?!?!"  If the last is true, the thought gets discarded and I move on.  Facebook has "status shuffle", I have "thought shuffle".  I am convinced this is a sign of a serious addiction to Facebook.  Does anyone know where the nearest Facebook-aholics Anonymous Meeting is??

Benefits of Whining

We aren't big on spanking.  We regularly use time-out as punishment for our children.  Time-out, away from family, friends, toys, books, etc.  1 minute for every year of their age.  When Brandon was little, before he could calculate how much time he had left, he would say "Mommy, can I come out yet?"  He would ask this every 2 minutes, sometimes yelling it, sometimes quietly asking, or sometimes whining.  It drove me up a flipping wall.  I used to say back to him "I'll tell you when it's time to come out!"  

Now we use the same method with Madison.  She is now 8.  So when she does wrong, she has to sit on her bed without toys or books or music, with her bedroom door closed for 8 minutes.  Where Brandon cried, kicked, screamed.......she just hangs her head and quietly walks to her bed.  She sits down and quietly takes her punishment.  Great!  What an improvement over the fights we had with Brandon.  I realize now that it was a good thing Brandon asked every 2 minutes.  I have a short attention span. (compare me to Dory from "Finding Nemo") I am ashamed to admit it, but when Madison takes her punishment so quietly, I start doing something else, and - 8 minutes later- I have forgotten that she is on her bed rather than outside or playing with Barbies on her bedroom floor.  How awful for a parent to forget that her child is sitting on her bed, patiently waiting to be released!!!  Awful!  Have no fear, I have not left her on her bed for hours at a time.  Merely a few minutes longer than intended.  But it makes me feel like a horrible parent.

Cast, Characters, and Setting - part 2

This past weekend, I was home alone.  All weekend.  My husband and kids were out of town.  Most of you moms are now going "Woo-hoo!" because I know that most people enjoy having time alone.  I enjoy my "me time" too.  But I prefer mine in small increments, like hours, not weekends.  And especially when I'm home alone and they go to Grand Marais.  I just sit at home and sulk.  This weekend was the 30th Annual Grand Marais Music and Arts Festival.  I don't even remember the last time I wasn't at the festival.  My best friend, Megan, and I (and sometimes my brother or sister) will take our kids over.  We walk around and check out all the arts and crafts vendors, then we adults set up chairs for ourselves, with a cooler full of various beverages in the wagon (who wants to carry a full cooler when you can put your kids' wagon to good use?!?!).  It takes place in a baseball field, and we try to position ourselves toward the back of the crowd.  You can still hear the music and see the band, and there's plenty of room for the kids to run around without bumping into too many drunks (they have a hard enough time walking straight, they don't need a bunch of kids knocking them over).  The music continues until dark, and the night is topped off by a fireworks show.  Most years, we then put the kids to bed and continue our fun at the bar.

So this year, I didn't get the weekend off from work.  You can't have 'em all, I guess.  So Carl and the kids went without me. I think everyone knew I felt left-behind because all weekend they were sending picture messages to my phone.  I now have 11 festival pictures on my phone: my sister Sarah at work, Sarah and Megan at the festival, Carl at the festival, 2 pictures of a Betty Boop decorated car, Madison (my daughter) with her face painted, an agate beach sunset, 2 pictures of fireworks and.........a picture of ketchup in the grass???  Yep.   Because it looks like a question mark.  They said that they missed me.  Awwwwww, I know. :)  I feel special and loved.  I have to admit though, that a small part of me took some perverse pleasure in the fact that they didn't have as much fun without me.

Oh!  Introductions!  That's what this is supposed to be about, right?  Ok.  So there's my husband Carl.  My kids Brandon and Madison.  My sister Sarah - she has 2 kids.  My brother Steven - he has 3 kids.  And my best friend Megan - she also has 2 kids.  And when I say best friend I mean BEST BEST friend.  We've known each other for 19 years (20 year friend-iversary next year LOL).  We've had arguments about stupid things, we got in trouble for passing notes in school, we helped each other with boyfriends and breakups, and we've had many, many mishappen adventures together.

For instance, last summer we decided to get pictures of the Au Sable Lighthouse at sunset time.  We ignored a local's warning about the flies being bad, loaded our kids up in the car and drove the 13 miles or so out to the Hurricane River.  From there it's a (I believe) 1.5 mile hike to the lighthouse.  Guess what?  The flies were bad.  No, not just bad, but BAAAAAD.  Swarming.....biting.....Did that deter us?  NO!!  Well, it did deter the kids.  They ran back and stayed in the car.  Megan and I pressed on, pine boughs in hand, swatting flies left and right and walking as fast as we could, laughing our heads off all along the way.  We DID learn that when you have a layer of flies on your pant legs, DON'T swat them off.  Know what happens?  They swarm your head instead.  We made it to the lighthouse, and we got our pictures.  THEN came the walk back, in the DARK, through the WOODS.  *Gulp* There's bears in them woods!  Still swatting at flies, we hurried back to the car with headlamps lighting our way, singing songs at the top of our lungs.  If that didn't keep the bears away, nothing would.  We arrived back at the car - sweaty, bitten and blistered - only to discover that the boys had been listening to the radio while we were on our little trek, and they had run the battery dead.  FINALLY, after getting a jump from a random camper in the Hurricane campground, we made it back home.  Comedy at its best.  And that was a fairly normal adventure for us.  Ii wonder what trouble we'll get into next.  Summer's not quite over yet!!

Cast, Characters, and Setting - part 1

For those of you who may have stumbled onto this blog by accident, looking for something worthwhile to read, and don't know me.....or perhaps for those of you who think you know me.........but don't.......I thought I would introduce myself, and those who will probably star in many of my future ramblings, a little more thoroughly.  My name is Rachel.

Daughter, grand-daughter, sister, wife, mother.   I celebrated my 33^rd birthday and my 13^th anniversary this year.    I recently diagnosed myself with social anxiety.  Yep, diagnosed myself.  Just call me “Doc.”  I have no intention of going to a psychologist so they can tell me what I already know.  Low self-esteem, a little paranoia thrown in, with the occasional anxiety attack over nothing.  Yea, I warned you there was craziness.  But at least I have a sense of humor.  I can laugh at my own problems, thereby helping me get over them.  So, now that you all know about the voices in my head (insert evil cackle here), let’s move on. 

I like to write poetry.  When I experience strong emotions, words just seem to fly from my pen in rhyme.  Perhaps I will share some here in my blog.  But not today.  Photography is my hobby, passion and, hopefully, future means of income.  Shameless plug: If you live in the Petoskey area, and would like some pictures taken (family, kids, wedding, etc) get a hold of me!

That’s probably enough about me for now.  I don’t want to scare anyone away.  So how about a quick go-over of my favorite people and places.  Well, place.  There’s one place on this beautiful earth that I love more than anywhere else: Grand Marais.  It’s a tiny town on Lake Superior.  Growing up, you can’t wait to get away because there’s “nothing to do” and “nowhere to go”.   But now, like many others, the small town life calls to me.  Aside from the beaches with their warm sand and cool water, there’s also the sand dunes, the falls, so many woods to explore.  My favorite thing to do in Grand Marais, though, is nothing.  I know this sounds funny, but picture this.  You, a few members of your large family, and your best friend, have just finished dinner (where there’s always enough food to feed whoever may stop by too), dishes are done, and now you’re sitting on the porch, beverage of choice in hand.  The kids are running around the yard, playing in the sandbox, swinging on the tree swing, or drawing on the sidewalk with chalk.  You wave at everyone who passes by because they a) went to your school too, b) are another family member or b) a regular visitor to the town.  And though you may not have spoken with the people you are sitting with in a few hours, a few weeks, or even a few months (my last visit included a cousin I hadn't seen in many years), conversation flows readily, punctuated with much laughter, and pauses are never awkward. 

To be continued……. 

Hello World!

Once upon a time, a friend suggested I write a book.  A romance, to be specific.  I've read enough of them to know how it works: boy meets girl, they can't stand each other but are forced into some perilous situation together.  While working themselves out of said situation, they each secretly fall in love with each other but refuse to give in and say so.  The perilous situation comes to a crescendo with a near-death experience, during which one of them confesses his or her love for the other.  There is then a miraculous recovery, and a declaration of devoted love from both parties.  Then they get married and live happily ever after.

I did a little research and picked an approximate year for the story to take place, a basic storyline which would inject plenty of conflict.  I found out the style of clothing people wore in that time, what towns existed and which didn't, which methods of transportation were common.  I even went so far as to create characters with individual personalities.  This "book" that my friend suggested, has a chapter 1.  Exciting right?  But It's hard to turn that one chapter into the whole story that's in my head.  Plus, my thoughts are always a little scattered.  As I try to write more, my mind wanders to bills that need paying, things around the house that need cleaning, the weeds in the garden that need to be pulled, etc.  Some would probably call it ADD.

So, when this same friend, more recently, suggested I started blogging, it got me thinking.  I like facebook.  I like to come up with something witty or meaningful for my facebook profile.  But sometimes, what I have to say takes MUCH more than the allotted 140 characters (or at least the limit USED to be 140 characters, but that seems to have been changed recently).  So the idea of a blog interested me.  I don't have a theme.  Each blog update won't talk about the same thing.  Updates probably will not come in regular intervals.  Heck ,I can't even promise that each update will be witty, meaningful, funny, or even worth reading.  It may read like a  comical story, or a colorful drama.  But it may also read like the maniacal thoughts that go through my head in run-on sentences, one thought not necessarily connected with the other in any way shape or form, bouncing from one thought to another without stopping for breath.

So here I go, sharing my craziness with the world.  Enjoy!  And please feel free to leave comments below.