Life with Rachael

She's Finally 18!

2010-02-09T22:21:00.000-08:00

If you have not read the previous posts in the Valentine's Day series, please be sure to start here and read them all before this one.

After leaving Rachael in the hospital and giving her brother a rose, Rachael and I made an interesting discovery. We liked each other. Quite a lot. Now, we'd only just started dating, so it would be premature to label it 'True Love' or anything quite that extreme, but looking back, I believe the first seeds of love were planted and they later grew into a beautiful relationship that has continued to grow and has sustained us all these years.

The next few months went by quickly, with more and more time spent together. Our dates were frequent, our conversations were no longer stilted, and I was falling more and more for Rachael each day. I was fairly confident that her feelings matched my own, and this served as a great foundation for what was actually a fairly cruel practical joke. Looking back, I somewhat regret what I gave Rachael for her 18th birthday.

Diamond Earrings.

No, it's not that I regret giving her the diamond earrings. They looked gorgeous on her. In fact, she still has them, and she still looks gorgeous with them on.

I regret the way I gave them to her. By this time, I was starting to feel somewhat confident that this was it. That Rachael was The One. While I thought she felt the same, I was not quite sure. I was still plagued with a fair measure of uncertainty and I think this was the genesis of my plan.....

The day started beautifully.

I picked Rachael up and we were heading to Apple Hill to spend a romantic day together, celebrating her 18th birthday.

We talked, and held hands, and might have even kissed a time or two. And no adverse reactions this time. We were hospital-free without a care in the world. Except for some manufactured ones, on my part.

On the way to Apple Hill, we decided to stop in Tahoe. Oh, you don't go through Tahoe when driving from Sacramento to Apple Hill? Well, you probably just need to get a better navigator. Rachael can show you the way.

Now Tahoe is a very nice city, romantic in its own rite, but was definitely not where we had planned to go. It turns out that we had taken the wrong Interstate heading East out of Sacramento. An easy mistake to be sure, but somewhat inconvenient.

After driving almost to Reno on I-80, we took the Highway that runs from I-80 to Hwy. 50- I think it's Hwy. 89 or 87, or something like that. We eventually made our way towards Apple Hill.

All day long, I had successfully attempted to act nervous and had made several leading comments, like how I loved our life together, etc.

All the world's a stage and the men and women simply players.

I was setting the stage.

Rachael and I had our parts to play.

When I purchased the diamond earrings for Rachael, I had made sure that they came in a very distinct box. A box that could easily be mistaken for one that contained a ring. Maybe an engagement ring.

We pulled into an apple orchard and drove into seclusion. I acted more and more nervous with each passing minute.

I'm not sure if I'm a good actor, or if Rachael is just a great audience, but the ploy was working.

I nervously and abruptly began my planned-for conversation while trying to make sure it appeared that I was FINALLY going to come clean with what was making me so nervous all day.

'Rachael, I know we haven't been dating for that long.'

I take her hand in mine and gaze into her eyes.

She has already gone still, not quite sure where this is heading.

'But I know my feelings for you are real.'

Did I just see her stiffen? Is that concern I see in her eyes?

I get down on one knee, still holding one of her hands in mine.

'I believe we are meant for each other. I am looking forward to our future together.'

I know, I know. I'm really tempting fate, us being out in the middle of a desolate apple orchard with no Emergency Room close.

'I just have one question I need to ask you.....'

I believe she is breathing somewhat erratically now.

'Rachael, will you.........

Long pause. Time has stopped for Rachael. I can see the indecision on her face. I can tell she wants to say yes and wants to say no, all at the same time. But I also can tell that she will someday be my wife.

Pause Continues.....

I slowly open the box.

'Accept these diamond earrings for your 18th birthday?'

I truly do not think there is a woman in the world that has ever been happier to get a pair of diamond earrings.

At this point, I think I knew that our destiny was to be together.

Looking back, I actually feel embarrassed about doing this. And I'm worried about what you will think of me for doing it. And I agree it was a cruel thing to do. My only plea is that you'll consider I did not do it out of cruelty, but out of insecurity, and maybe a slightly evil sense of humor. But not cruelty.

I could not be cruel to the girl I loved.

And I WAS in love.

For Rachael's side of the story, please check out her post, The First Proposal.

So, I gave a guy a rose!

2010-02-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

This is part 4 of our Valentine Day Series. If you have not read the previous posts, click here for an index and read the other 3 first.

The incessant hospital noise never stops.

The accusing eyes seem to look my way.

It's my first date with Rachael and instead of enjoying our somewhat stilted conversation, all I hear are the overhead speakers paging various doctors to assorted areas of the hospital.

When I picked up Rachael, I was sure she'd be home safely by midnight.

Unfortunately, it was midnight, and she was still several hours away from her home. And her mom and brother and I were all together in the hospital with her. Kind of a 'let's all take a family trip to the hospital for Travis and Rachael's first date' kind of thing.

As the night wore on, it did not look like Rachael was going to be released anytime soon. Not that it appeared anything was really wrong, it's just that if you've ever been in an emergency room on a Friday night, you know you tend to sit around waiting a lot unless you are actually bleeding all over the floor. In which case they'll try to get you in before the sun rises.

Rachael's mom wanted to stay and take Rachael home when she was released. I agreed to take Rachael's younger brother Matt home so he could get some rest and then Linda would bring Rachael home when all was well.

When Rachael and I were dating, she lived in the outskirts of Sacramento in a place called Elverta. Not far from her home was a nice park called Gibson Ranch. Prior to picking Rachael up for our first date, I had taken a short walk in Gibson Ranch and left a surprise for later.

I figured that on a first date, almost everyone brings a rose to give the girl at her door when they arrive. I wanted to be different. Memorable. Dare I say, even romantic? So I hid the rose in a place that would be easily accessible on a short walk after a fantastic first date. I had it all planned out in my head.

'We have some time. Why don't we take a short walk, get some fresh air, enjoy the moonlight?'

I don't actually even remember if there was moonlight that night, or if the air was fresh, but it sounds good, so that's kind of how I remember planning it.

'I've really enjoyed our time tonight.'

Slowly steering the walk in the direction of the rose.

'Hey, what's that up there? Wow! Look at that! There's a rose! I wonder who left it? Oh my goodness! It has your name on it!'

At this point, I'd hand the rose to Rachael who would just now have realized that I had actually planted the rose and that it had been intended for her all along. And she'd feel so special. And she'd think this was the most romantic thing a guy had ever done for her. And she'd like me.

That's really what I was hoping for. I may have tried a little too hard, I don't know. But, whatever. It seemed to work.

Oh, wait.

Never mind.

I got so carried away thinking about how it was supposed to go, that I forgot about what actually happened. It didn't really work that way at all.

In reality, I was now driving back from the hospital, trying to think of something to say to Matt, who was 14 at the time, and probably had at least a few questions about what had happened to his older sister, who was still waiting to be released.

And I wasn't really in too much of a hurry to tell him. I mean, should I tell him what happened? That I kissed his sister? That I was able to catch her when she passed out because I had my hands on her hips? I wasn't sure how any of this would sound, and I didn't want it to sound worse than it actually was.

I wasn't really sure what to talk about, but one thing I knew. I knew I had to get the rose. I mean, it couldn't just be left to rot out in the field, a symbolic picture of unrequited love. No, it still had a mission. A purpose. A role left to play.

Besides, now it could serve a dual purpose and double as a romantic gesture and get well soon token all in a small little fragrant package.

'Umm, Matt, I need to stop at Gibson Ranch for just a minute.'

I don't actually remember the exact words, but I'm sure this is at least close. At this point, poor Matt must be wondering about me. 'Ok, Travis has always seemed like an OK guy, but my sister's in the hospital, and now he wants to stop at Gibson Ranch in the middle of the night? What is it with this guy?'

'This will just take a minute. But I need to pick up a rose.'

'Umm, Travis, I don't know about you, but I don't see any rose stores open here in Gibson Ranch.'

'See, I had wanted to give Rachael a rose on our way back to your house, but now I'm going to have to give it to you.'

'Gee, thanks. Just what I always wanted. A rose from my sister's date.'

'It'll just be a minute. It's not too far away.'

'What the heck? Why is the rose way over there? What's up with this?'

'Ok, there you go. Do you mind making sure Rachael gets it?'

'Sure buddy, whatever you say. Just take me home and let me out of your car. I can guarantee this will probably be the first and LAST date you ever have with my sister.'

So, I'm making up what Matt was thinking, but in my mind I was sure it was something close to this. I took Matt the rest of the way home, gave him the rose and made sure he got safely into the house.

The first and only time I've ever given a guy a rose.

But it really was a nice rose. I was just hoping that it made it's way to Rachael and not down the closest garbage disposal.

Driving home, I was wondering if I'd ever have a chance for a second date. And, if so, could we possibly keep away from fainting, family bonding in the emergency room, and giving various relatives flowers.

If you've not yet read Rachael's posts about our quest for true love, be sure to check out her posts.

Hospitals, Doctors, and Mom, Oh My!

2010-02-06T23:07:00.000-08:00

If you have not read the previous posts, please be sure to start with The Adventure Begins. For the index to all posts in this series, please click here.

Lights were flying past. Signs were blurring by. I was zig-zagging in and out of traffic, driving much faster than was safe.

Beside me in the car was the limp form of a listless body.

"Is she dying?"

"Is it possible to kill a girl with just one kiss? Was my breath that bad?"

I looked over at Rachael's prone form.

How did this happen? I had just been standing at her door talking to her, looking into her eyes. I had eventually put my hands on her waist as we talked. She started to sound unintelligible, and her eyes became somewhat glossy. The next thing I knew, she had just crumpled. If I would not have caught her, she literally would have bounced off of the ground. I lifted her up and placed her in the seat, ran to my side of the car, jumped in and sped off, making an Indy-500 drive to the hospital.

"Do NOT die on me!"

I began to pray in earnest. "Dear God, please let her be OK. Please let her be OK. Please let her be OK." It probably sounded more like a chant than a prayer, but that's about all I could manage. I was in a bit of a panic.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute or two, Rachael began to slightly stir in the seat beside me.

Signs of life!

I still had no idea what was going on or what was wrong. I just knew I needed to get her to the hospital as soon as possible.

She slowly came around. She began to talk, or at least to make semi-recognizable mumbling sounds. By the time we got to the hospital she was apparently fully recovered. We went in so she could be examined.

I had to make THE call.

The call you hope you never have to make.

How many guys have ever had to call their date's mom on their first date to let her know that her daughter was now in the emergency room at the hospital?

"Hi, Linda. This is Travis. I needed to let you know that I had to bring Rachael to the hospital and we're here now."

While I would never ever joke about something like this, I did have a practical-joke side to me, and her mom thought that this was a really bad joke.

"Travis, do not joke with me about something like this."

"I would not. I am serious. We are here at the hospital. Rachael passed out and I brought her here as fast as I could and I thought you'd want to know."

Rachael's mom and younger brother, Matt made it to the hospital in record time. I really didn't know if this was all my fault or not, but every time I looked at Rachael's mom, I felt like she was looking at me with very accusing eyes. And that was before she knew that it was the kiss that caused it.

OK, OK, I don't know for sure if it was the kiss, and Rachael still denies it to this day, but how many guys do you know that can put a girl in the hospital with just one kiss?

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

For Rachael's side of the story, be sure to click here.

The Adventure Continues At Chevy's On The River

2010-02-04T21:42:00.000-08:00

If you have not already read 'The Adventure Begins', please be sure to do so before you read this post.

Part 2- The Adventure Continues

The big day was finally here.

I had asked the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen out on a date, she'd somehow actually said yes, and now I was on my way to pick her up.

Most guys would probably be nervous about what the parents would think when he came over to pick up their only daughter to take her out on a date.

I was not.

Don't get me wrong. I WAS nervous, just not about what the parents would think. I was one of those rare and unlucky guys that practically all parents loved, and all girls wanted to be best friends with. I once had one of my girl-friends (not be confused with girlfriends) practically puke when she even considered the idea of dating me. At least that was the look on her face. On the other hand, I once had a parent offer me a dream car if I'd marry his daughter. I'm still not sure if he was totally serious, but it makes me feel good to think he was.

My entire life, I'd somehow managed to get all the ladies dreaming........

of the day their daughters would marry me.

Unfortunately, in todays new and modern world, the daughters all seemed to have something to say about this. And that something never bode well for my dating opportunities. You have to admit, there's something to be said for arranged marriages.

My nerves were on edge, because I really wanted to impress this girl. I'd spent a great deal of time cleaning my car. Because, of course, that will really impress a girl. I tried to wear the best probably-out-of-style clothes I owned. Because, of course, that will really impress a girl.

I finally arrived at her house. I honestly don't even hardly remember what I said to her parents, other than where we were going and what time we would be home. At this time in our dating relationship, Rachael did not even have a curfew, but I figured we'd safely be able to go to dinner and miniature golf and she'd be safely home by midnight.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Little did I know that at midnight that night, Rachael, her mom, her brother, and I would all be in the hospital together.

With absolutely no thoughts of hospitals, I had decided that we would go to Chevy's on the River. At this point in my life, I don't think I even knew that Chevy's was a chain restaurant. And this Chevy's didn't look like most of the others I have ever been to since. It was built over-looking the American River just outside of Sacramento.

It was romantic. Because, of course, that will really impress a girl.

I had thought of everything I knew about how to impress a girl.

Except for one thing.

How do you maintain the calm, cool, collected persona you have worked so hard to foster when you can't even keep a conversation going?

It appeared that Rachael was as nervous as I. And her nervousness seemed to manifest itself by an inability to speak. Or eat.

We somehow managed to get through the meal without our nervousness growing. Looking back, there was definitely a mutual attraction taking place. Though at the time, I was too ignorant to realize that. All I knew then is that this girl seemed to be the sweetest thing ever.

And don't forget the gorgeous part.

We finished dinner and headed to our next destination. There used to be a miniature golf course on Fair Oaks Blvd. in Sacramento. I'm not sure if it's even still there, but as we were driving towards it, Rachael commented on the fact that this was where she used to go to school. Possibly because these were some of the first words I'd heard all night, and probably because I was quite eager to please this lovely lady, I asked her if she wanted to stop and check it out.

Probably because she was so nervous, and because she was probably also trying to please, she said yes.

We parked the car, and went for a short walk.

We ended up standing under a beautiful tree in a fairy-tale like perfect setting that seemed conducive to standing and staring in each other's eyes.

We did this for about 1/2 a second before I was pretty sure I wanted to kiss her. Not a big old wet and sloppy kiss, just a nice gentlemanly peck on the lips.

I leaned in.

My heart was beating so fast. My nerves were on edge. I was worried about trying to kiss her on the first date, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

She didn't scream, or slap me, or run away.

I took this for a good sign.

Our first kiss probably lasted about 3/4 of a second.

But it was a wonderful 3/4 of a second. A life-changing 3/4 of a second.

We stood there for a short time and then walked back to my car. Being the perfect gentleman, I went around to open Rachael's door for her. We stood there talking for a few minutes. As we were talking, I noticed her eyes start to look funny. She looked like she was no longer there.

And a minute later, she wasn't.

Check back soon to find out what happens next. It's no wonder we fell in love.

Be sure to check out Rachael's post for her side of the story.

For an index to The Valentine's Day Series Posts, please click here.

The Valentine's Day Series

2010-02-03T22:50:00.000-08:00

To celebrate Valentine's Day, Rachael and I will be telling our tale of true love. Ours is a love that has seen it's share of trials and tests, but has managed to grow stronger with the passing years. Rachael truly is an amazing lady, an incredible person, and the best friend anyone could ever hope for. As well as being an awesome wife.

This is the story of how two soul-mates somehow found each other.

Enjoy!

The Adventure Begins here. (Part 1)
The Adventure Continues At Chevy's On The River. (Part 2)
Hospitals, Doctors, and Mom, Oh My! (Part 3)
So, I Gave A Guy A Rose! (Part 4)
She's Finally 18! (Part 5)

You will have to check back regularly as the adventure unfolds from one post to the next. Be sure to check out Rachael's blog for her side of the story. http://www.mypoorhusband.blogspot.com/

-The Poor Husband.

The Adventure Begins

2010-02-03T22:48:00.000-08:00

It was a Friday afternoon in July, 1993. I was preparing for my first date with the lady that would become my wife. Of course, I did not know that at the time, although if I was to be honest with myself, I just had a feeling that this was something special. That this girl was someone special. That I was a very lucky guy to be going on a date with her.

I found out later that she wasn't even sure we were going on a date. I'm not quite sure how that could have happened. I asked her out with all the suave confidence of a 15 year old pimple-faced boy trying to score a date with the prom queen. When she said yes, I worked hard on controlling my excitement and relief and I'm pretty sure she could see nothing other than a cool, calm, and collected individual. A cool, calm, collected individual that felt like he'd just won the lottery.

Although I was 23 years old, my experience with dating was actually quite limited. I had grown up with a confidence problem and a lot of low self-esteem. I did not have my first date or even kiss a girl until I was already out of high school. Prior to my first date with Rachael, I had really only had one serious relationship. And that had just ended about 3 weeks prior with a dissolution of our engagement.

Thanks to the help of a good friend of mine (Thanks Joan) that had noticed how bummed I had been since the breakup, and who was actually quite good at helping Cupid out once in awhile, Rachael had helped cheer me up by singing 'He'll Do It Again' as a special at the church we both attended. I'm pretty sure there were tears in my eye as I thought about the words of the song as Rachael sang it. I also absolutely know that she caught my eye.

Her singing was beautiful, I had always admired her sweet disposition, and she was gorgeous. Of course, she was also 17, though I did not realize it at the time. She had just graduated high school a month prior, and so I just assumed she was 18. That was not the case, and as it turned out, she was 17 for almost 4 months of our dating.

Anyway, back to the important stuff.

She sang beautifully.

She was sweet.

Oh, and she was absolutely gorgeous.

She had (and has) incredible blue eyes, perfectly highlighted by dazzling blonde hair.

My eye was definitely caught.

A few days later, I worked up the nerve to ask her out. I think what actually came out of my mouth was something along the lines of, "So, umm, maybe sometime, umm, we could, umm, go out together and do something, or something, maybe. Sometime."

But then the strangest thing happened.

She said yes.

The adventure was just beginning.

Little did I know that one of the first stops on our little adventure would be the emergency room of the local hospital.......

(Click here for the next portion of this story. Also, be sure to check out Rachael's blog for her side of the story.) http://www.mypoorhusband.blogspot.com/

For an index to the Valentine's Day Posts Series, please click here.

Adam and Eve

2010-01-28T21:37:00.000-08:00

Give Me Eyes, So I Can See

Kids say the darndest things!

Anyone that is a parent knows this to be true. There is nothing like the honesty of a child to keep you humble. They will talk in complete innocence and total candor about your weight, gray hair, or other maladies you would like to keep hidden and might have fooled yourself into believing you had.

They also see the world through a brand new set of eyes. Eyes that have not yet been trained to only see what has been programmed for them. Eyes that still search out the details and try to make honest sense of them. Eyes that are beautiful to sometimes look through. One of the greatest joys of parenting is to be able to vicariously re-live experiences and to look at things from a fresh perspective.

Sometimes, though, it's just plain funny what they come up with.

Tonight was one of those times.

Rebecca came in and asked me where the Garden of Eden was. I told her of the three theories I knew about and then told her we could search online to see if there were other theories I did not know about. We found a website that had a picture of Adam and Eve on it.

As the picture came on the screen, Rebecca exclaimed, "Dad, they're naked!"

I knew she had seen plenty of Sunday School stories with pictures of Adam and Even that closely resembled this one, so I didn't know what the big deal was. As I started to tell her that it was Adam and Eve, she then said, "Oh, it's Adam and Eve", like that settled everything. I guess Adam and Eve get a free pass.

With her next words I understood her original consternation.

"I thought that was Paul and Jesus at first." While Adam and Eve get a free pass for being naked, Jesus and Paul definitely do not.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud when she said that. But more was to come.

"But then I saw the long blond hair, and realized it was probably Eve."

While I was sitting here wondering if Eve really would have had blond hair (probably so, since she WAS created perfect), she went right on with her thoughts.

"It still kind of looks like two guys though. You have to admit it looks like the guys on Guitar Hero."

Well, now that you mention it, it kind of does. Although thankfully the guys on Guitar Hero are at least wearing clothes. Some, anyway.

So, Adam and Eve, Jesus and Paul, or two guys from Guitar Hero. I guess it's all how you look at the picture.

The Cell Phone Stun Gun

2010-01-24T20:21:00.000-08:00

The scream pierces the otherwise silent vehicle.

The female passenger jerks spasmodically in a way that suggests she may be getting electrocuted.

The 4 others in the vehicle begin to laugh as the innocent victim recovers from her harrowing incident.

While these statements could be part of a novel detailing the adventures of a psychotic family gaining merriment at the expense of the hapless and helpless female victim, in actuality, they just chronicle a very ordinary trip home from church when you live Life With Rachael.

Rachael, like a lot of you, often has her cell phone set to vibrate, or in her case 'stun', to ensure it doesn't unnecessarily disturb a serene service at church. This is a great idea.

And lots of fun.

For whatever reason, when Rachael's phone vibrates, it scares the tarnation out of her. She'll jump. She'll scream.

And, often, she'll then give me the hairy eyeball look. The one all of you husbands know.

This is because I have learned how to be an effective Rachael cell phone stunner. For those of you that have read the other posts here, you may remember that Rachael has a tendency to transition into her own magical land, The Rachael Zone, fairly easily. So sometimes when we're driving home from church and I have a fairly reasonable chance of her cell phone still being set to 'stun', I'll wait until I see her slackened jaw, far-off eyes, and other signs that she is no longer residing in the truck.

When that happens, I'll slowly and slyly (at least I like to tell myself I'm sly) reach down and grab my cell phone, careful to not catch Rachael's attention. I'll then push the button to call Rachael's cell, knowing that the ride is about to get a lot more exciting in about 5 seconds or so.

5...

4....

3.....

2......

1.........

"Aahhhhhhh!!!"

The whole car smiles. Or at least 4 of the 5 people inside of it do.

While I'm a little worried I could possibly get a ticket for driving and talking on the cell phone, I think it's unlikely.

I'm not actually talking.

Besides I think that I could just show the officer a video of Rachael's reaction and we'd all soon be laughing together and I'd escape a ticket.

I think there are a few people in the world that should not use hands-free devices. I know the government knows best, but sometimes they actually do more harm than good. In fact, I recently read an article about someone that may very well be a long-lost relative of Rachael's. At least, they seem to share the same aversion to cellular hands-free devices.

Check out the articles below. They talk about a man that was so surprised by his hands-free device that he went off the road into a canal. He then used his gun to shoot out the window to swim to safety.

So, the accident was caused by a government mandated hands-free device. And his safety was ensured by using the all so demonized handgun. And of course, some of the blame can probably be placed on the ever-evil SUV.

Whatever.

As long as Rachael keeps jumping and screaming every time I call her, I'll be a happy man.

:-)

Casino guard escapes sinking SUV by blasting out a window with his gun

Associated Press

Posted: 01/18/2010 11:10:09 AM PST

Updated: 01/18/2010 11:10:36 AM PST

A driver whose SUV plunged into a Northern California creek after he was startled when the hands-free device of his cell phone activated, escaped the sinking vehicle by blasting out the window with a handgun.

The 28-year-old man whose name wasn't immediately available is an armed security guard at Thunder Valley Casino, north of Sacramento. He sustained minor injuries in Sunday's accident.

A spokesman for the Roseville Fire Department said the man was traveling northbound on Industrial Avenue in Roseville when the cell phone device activated. The driver was startled and veered off the road through the guardrail. The SUV landed in Pleasant Grove Creek.

He used his gun to shoot himself out, then flagged down a passerby.

ROSEVILLE, Calif. -- A driver whose vehicle crashed into a water-filled canal Sunday morning used a gun to blast out a window and escape to safety, police said.

Authorities said a sport utility vehicle was northbound on Industrial Avenue when it left the road just north of Blue Oaks Boulevard and landed in the water at about 9 a.m.

The driver, seeking to save his own life, used a legally registered gun to shoot out a window as the SUV sank, a bystander said.

The 28-year-old man whose name wasn't immediately available is an armed security guard at Thunder Valley Casino, north of Sacramento. He sustained minor injuries in the crash.

The SUV eventually became submerged in the water.

The man said he was startled when his cell phone activated and that caused him to veer off the road and through the guardrail.
After blasting his way out of the car, the man used the old fashioned tool of flagging down a car to help get him to a hospital.
KCRA.com. contributed to this report.

http://www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local-beat/Driver-Shoots-Way-Out-of-Sinking-Vehicle-81931882.html

Denny's Delectable Dining or 'Family Bonding at Denny's'

2009-10-27T21:06:00.000-07:00

For those of you with kids that do not know, what I'm about to tell you might prove life-changing. Not necessarily in the spiritual sense, but in the profoundly practical sense.

Denny's has Kids Eat Free every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon/evening from 4 PM on. And, even better news, you can have 2 free kids meals for every adult entree purchased.

For a family of 5, 3 of which are children, this is a big deal. We can take our entire family to Denny's for about the same as we often spend at fast food. With tip, tax, and everything, we usually are out the door for somewhere between $23-$30. Not bad.

Combine the deal with a lazy Saturday afternoon, and no surprise here, the result is often another fat-laden breakfast-dinner at Denny's. It is now to the point that the manager recognizes us and greets us when we come in on Saturday night.

While Denny's is not necessarily the most elegant restaurant, it is a great FAMILY restaurant. It is kid friendly and typically has good food at good prices.

All of that pales in comparison to the family bonding time Ben and I have when we use the restroom.

I know that probably sounds a little weird at first glance, but we have actually developed 3 separate games that make restroom breaks less of a hassle and a lot more fun.

Game #1 - We race the girls. Now, this is probably an unfair race right from the outset, as we are the only 2 boys, and there are 3 girls. Combine that fact with how much slower girls are in the restroom, and the girls really never had a chance. Except, of course, when they win. But that doesn't happen very often, and when it does happen, it is only because of Game #2 and Game #3.

Game #2- The Sprinkle All Over Each Other Game- I know this is a game played in a bathroom, but the sprinkle here is referring to what we do with the water left on our fingers after we wash our hands. We both continue washing and quit at the same time, to ensure fairness. We then face each other and flick our fingers/hands at each other as to ensure the absolute maximum amount of water is sprinkled on the other person. I guess it's no wonder I sometimes get the strangest looks coming out of the bathroom.

Game #3- The Trash Can Toss- Once we have finished sprinkling each other, we both take a roll of paper towel, dry our hands off with it, and wad it up into a ball. We then take turns trying to make it in the trash can. Now the Denny's we go to makes this kind of difficult, as the hole for the trash can is just a small hole in the top of the vanity. We often tie, but the last time we ate at Denny's, Ben made his first shot, and I didn't make mine until the 4th shot. This makes him extremely happy. He loves to beat his dad.

I have heard it often said that the time you spend with your kids is very important. I think that is very true. Some say that the quantity of time is not that important- it's the quality of time that really matters. I sometimes hope that is true, as it seems I never have the time I wish I had to spend with my 3 wonderful kids. In my heart, though, I think that both are important. I try to set aside some time each night to be with my kids, but it often seems it's not enough. Homework, chores, dinner all can get in the way.

Or, they can just be part of the process of bonding with them.

That is why I developed the bathroom games. Sometimes the silliest things mean the world to your kids.

I hope it's enough.

-The Poor Husband

Updated Wordle

2009-10-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

If you have not yet seen my last Wordle, you can find it here.

And now for my updated Wordle, fresh with all the new and improved words I've been using on my blog lately:

**To see a larger image, just click anywhere on the Wordle and you will see a much larger version.**

I really like how this one came out with the words 'one' and 'hope' featured so prominently. We do have one hope, so I thought this was quite appropriate!

The Wordle website says: 'If you use a screen-capture, PDF, or other image representation of a Wordle on this site, you must attribute the image to http://www.wordle.net/. ' So, now you can make your own!

Birthday Business- Life With Rachael

2009-10-16T22:53:00.000-07:00

~~Tomorrow~~ is Tonight was Hannah's Birthday Party. She turns 8 on the 22nd. She is having a few friends over for a sleepover.
As you might imagine, she is quite excited.

There is nothing quite like the brightness of Hannah's face when she is excited.
One of the things I appreciate most about Life With Rachael is how much Rachael does to ensure the kids celebrate their special days properly. Tonight, Hannah was showing me all the things she has for her party tomorrow. Rachael took the time out of her busy schedule to make sure Hannah's party had all the little things that makes a girls sleep over special.
Party Favors? Check.
Puppy dogs for everyone? Check. By the way, Hannah held up her puppy and babies and it reminded me of a re-enactment of the nursing momma mouse. Here's the picture.

Cake and ice cream? Check.

Glow tubes? Check.
Sunglasses and fake wigs for all the girls? Check.

All here because Rachael made it happen.
And for that I am thankful. Rachael is a truly wonderful mother and our kids have been very blessed by her.
I started this post last night, but finished tonight after the birthday party. Here are some pictures of the good times that were had by all!

On this same night, Ben was at another B-Day party for a friend of his. They had a pirate theme and Ben said 'It was the best day ever!'.

The Mice Murders, part 2

2009-10-13T20:30:00.000-07:00

If you have not yet read part one, please click here and start with part one. Thanks!

As I was moving a log to position it correctly for cutting, a 4 headed, 16 footed, multi-whiskered fiend jumped straight out at me. I know I said it had 12 feet yesterday. It didn't actually grow 4 feet overnight. I had just miscalculated my mice math.

As I jumped back out of the way, I sat the the chainsaw down as quickly as possible. While the temptation to create a mouse version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre (maybe The Mouseketeer Massacre?) was enticing, I weighed my options and settled on the side of safety.

As I stood back up the mouse thing started scurrying along one of the logs. Except it was not able to scurry very well.

And the reason made me feel almost sorry for the mouse. Yes, me, the self-proclaimed hater of all rascally rodents.

The 4 headed creature was actually a momma mouse nursing 3 babies. But not little 'pinkie' mice. These babies were about 1/3 - 1/2 the size of their momma.

And they were hanging on to their momma with nothing but their mouths on her nipples. Yes, she was literally dragging three babies across the log with nothing to transport them but their mouths chomping down on her nipples.

While I have never personally nursed a baby, I understand that it can be quite painful if the baby gets a little over-ambitious while nursing.

Even I felt bad for this momma mouse.

That being said, I quickly assessed the situation, picked up a metal grounding rod lying nearby and tried to impale my new-found enemies. While this seemed like a good idea in theory, actual usage proved otherwise. The point of the rod was too narrow and the rod was too heavy to really be effective. I chased the momma mouse under a few small pieces of wood. One of her babies finally lost it's hold on her. I chased her under an empty planter bucket. I missed her again, but another of her babies dropped off. Finally, as I picked up a 2 foot section of 2x4 for my next weapon of choice, she ran straight at me.

Without even having much time to think about it, I lifted my foot, and stomped down. Hard. She was met with a quick and painless death.

In retrospect, I think she may have actually known what was coming and was willing to do anything just to make the pain from her overly gnawed nipples to go away.

I was more than happy to oblige her.

Next, I had to consider what to do with the three baby mice. I think they would have probably died, but they were big enough, I was not sure. Plus, I didn't want to see them starve to death, or if they were big enough, I did not want to see them grow up and later invade my house.

So, I took care of them quickly and painlessly.

While I get no joy from dispatching death to my furry friends, I am not willing to sacrifice my home or well-being for theirs. I already received one comment on my first post about the sometimes deadly consequences of dealing with mice.

I'm just not willing to take that chance with my family.

What about you? Do you think I did the right thing? Why or why not? Do you have any stories about how rodents have impacted your life?

The Mouse Murders

2009-10-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

As some of you know from some of my recent FaceBook posts, I have been waging a war against the evil mice attempting to invade my kingdom.

Prior to this evening, I had caught 4 mice in my garage and one under my kitchen sink. I promptly disposed of the carcasses and never really gave it a second thought.

Mice are evil, heinous little scurvy-carrying, Hanta-virus infected, scurrying little venomous beasts that only exist to allow us to enhance our trapping skills.

I work for Clark Pest Control and this February will have been there 20 years. While I sit behind a desk now, in my day I caught hundreds, if not thousands of mice and rats. (By the way, if you ever need pest control, Clark is by far the best company out there. Not the cheapest. But the best. And I am not biased in any way. :-) ) Most people don't realize how much science goes into methods used to make rodent trapping successful. Let's just suffice it to say that the merry little mice that invaded my house chose the wrong spot to live if they wanted to see next week.

I have personally seen the havoc that rodents create for us humans. Rodents are suspected to be one of the main causes of unexplained house fires. They have this annoying little habit of chewing and they'll chew right through electrical wires, or just about anything else. In fact, one of my neighbors right across the street from me was just telling me last week that she had to have the wires in her Corvette replaced after mice chewed them up. So, I am not a fan of rodents and strongly encourage you to maintain a rodent-free home. I feel completely justified in saying this. After all, we're human and they are, well, they are not. They are mice.

As of this morning, the war score was The Poor Husband- 5; Vile, wretched mice- 0

As of this evening, the score is now 9-0.

Those extra four mice are the topic of this post.

As most of you probably know, there is a huge storm coming in this evening and hitting most of the west coast of the United States. While we don't always lose our power, it does happen occasionally, so I came straight home from work and began to use my chain saw to cut up some lengths of wood I have. I wanted to have firewood in case that becomes our only source of heat in the next couple of days.

As I began to work on the wood-pile, I discovered the strangest creature. This creature jumped right out at me, had 4 heads, 12 feet, and lots of little whiskers. It was all attached together in some sort of almost morbid-looking Stephen King-esque way. It took me a minute to fully realize what I was seeing. When realization dawned, it was almost unbelievable and tempted me with pity. In fact, what I saw made me feel bad enough to write this post.

Come back tomorrow for the conclusion of this mice tale. Which is a lot better than a mouse tail.

I'm just sayin'.

What's In A Smile?

2009-10-11T14:24:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I had the unfortunate experience of attending a funeral for an old friend of mine that recently killed himself.

He was a fun-loving person that literally brightened up the room when he was there. He had a smile that lit up his face, and before long, the contagiousness of it would have those around him smiling, as well.

He typically tried to find the best in people and was usually successful.

He was an all-around good guy.

I worked with him for 10 years and have now known him for almost 20. I saw him last about 2 or 3 months ago. I have talked with a lot of people that have been around him frequently during the past few weeks and no one saw this one coming.

At his funeral, we all watched as picture after picture swept by on the overhead screen at the church. The one thing I noticed in every picture was his killer smile. A smile that lit up the room. A smile that looked totally genuine.

A smile that evidentally hid a lot of pain.

The minister spoke and he brought up some of the questions that everyone there had been asking themselves. The first question was 'Why?' 'Why did this have to happen?' It seems so senseless. He had so many friends. So many people that loved him. So much to live for.

The minister went on to say that we should not focus on the 'Why?' of this one tragic decision, but instead focus on the positive ways our lives were touched by this individual.

I think it's probably important to do both. I think asking 'Why?' is probably part of the normal grieving process, especially when it concerns a friend or relative that has committed suicide. While no answer will ever totally satisfy this question for my recently departed friend, maybe the search for the answer can lead to areas of self-discovery and reflection on one's own life.

Why indeed does one take their own life?

What has to be going on in one's head to make this choice seem like a viable option? Especially someone that is not mentally ill and has a huge number of people that love and care for him?

Why couldn't he reach out for help?

Why?

Why?

Why?

The second question the minister talked about was 'What could I have done to help prevent this?'. This is the question that I think many were asking themselves. Could I have seen this coming? Could I have said just the right words or done just the right things to have prevented this suicide from occurring?

He admonished us to not blame ourselves. He reiterated what was already fairly obvious to all of us, but needed to be said as a reminder. We were his family and his friends. Lots of friends and family that did what they could to be there for him. What happened was not something that we could have prevented, or we would have.

I appreciated this minister's words. I have not been as close a friend as late as I used to be. I know one of the first things that went through my head when I found out about the suicide was that I wish I had been closer to him more recently so that I might have seen this coming.

In retrospect, I don't really think anyone saw this coming. And I don't think I probably would have either, even if I had been closer to him.

I can not believe that his life is over. That I will never see him again. That his smile will never again be seen aside from in our pictures and in our memories.

Why?

Why did that smile hide so much?

Why?

It is sometimes hard to see behind the immense problems of here and now. When that is the case, sometimes we need to cry out to Jesus. Please follow this link to listen to a great song about hope for the helpless:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOb8ihacSM4

Here are the lyrics:

Cry Out To Jesus
Third Day

To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye

And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there's nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right

Chorus

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart

There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are

Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus

For the marriage that's struggling just to hang on
They lost all of their faith and love
They've done all they can to make it right again
Still it's not enough

For the ones who can't break the addictions and chains
You try to give up but you come back again
Just remember that you're not alone in your shame
And your suffering

Chorus

When your lonely (when you're lonely)
And it feels like the whole world is falling on you
You just reach out, you just cry out to Jesus

Cry to Jesus

To the widow who suffers from being alone
Wiping the tears from her eyes
For the children around the world without a home
Say a prayer tonight

Chorus

Please listen to the linked video above first. I like it the best, but this next one is pretty good, also:

The song Hope For The Hopeless by A Fine Frenzy.

Lyrics

stitch in your knitted brow
and you don't know how
you're gonna get it out

crushed under heavy chest
trying to catch your breath
but it always beats you by a step,
all right now

making the best of it
playing the cards you get
you're not alone in this

there's hope for the hopeless
hope for the hopeless
there's hope

cold in a summer breeze
yeah, you're shivering
on your bended knee

still, though your heart is sore
and the heavens pour
like a willow bending with the storm,
you'll make it

running against the wind
playing the cards you get
something is bound to give

there's hope for the hopeless
hope for the hopeless
there's hope

there's hope for the hopeless
hope for the hopeless
there's hope

Romans 5:1-5
"Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."

The Talkative Friend

2009-10-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

And so we continue our series of Friends With Hangups. We will be examining The Talkative Friend for tonight's blogisode. (Kind of like episode, but for blogs.)

The Talkative Friend never saw a conversation he did not enjoy. While he probably likes to hear about your life, that typically doesn't happen unless you are in the mood for a talk-fest race. For some reason, this friend is completely uncomfortable with the slightest pause in your conversation.

There are, however, a few advantages to having lots of The Talkative Friends:

1. You really don't ever have to think of a topic for conversation.
2. If you are quiet long enough, it's amazing what you can learn about their life. And, depending on The Talkative Friend, possibly everyone else's life.
3. If you are quiet long enough, you may also get to see the stangest of all phenomenas for The Talkative Friend. I call it the Suffering Succotash Suffocation. It's basically when The Talkative Friend is allowed to continue talking unchecked by anyone else's input. Eventually, they begin to get light-headed, and may soon pass out. What happens is they basically don't breathe enough and soon pass out from a self-induced artificial suffocation. As soon as they pass out, they resume breathing, so there's no real health worries. Unless, of course, they talk in their sleep. Then....you could have a problem. Here's a video of a potential candidate of Sufferin' Succotash Suffocation.

4. If you're in a room full of people you don't know, you can scan the room and easily find The Talkative Friend. He's the one that everyone is listening to while trying to escape to the other side of the room. However, he can provide just the cover you need until you feel comfortable talking to others. Plus, some kind-hearted soul may rescue you from his verbal embrace and you may gain a new, true friend.
5. You can actually perform scientific experiments on The Talkative Friend and they will not even notice. For instance, you could track the exact amount of time that The Talkative Friend will allow to pass before resuming their conversation with you. You can even pull your stop-watch out and be obvious about it. They probably won't even notice. Once you know the exact time involved, you can then time your responses a micro-second before and watch what happens with the verbal head-on collisions.

Benefits notwithstanding, I have often wondered about The Talkative Friend. I tend to be quieter by nature. One of the reasons I am this way is that I don't think you really care about what I ate for lunch, or the loaf of bread I bought, or the store I went to. Unless something cool, funny, or interesting happened, of course. But, for me, going to Safeway to pick up a loaf of bread or gallon of milk is just not that exciting the first time around. Let alone telling it to you the second time. And I am convinced you would feel the same way. And yet, the talkative friend will gladly share all of these details and more. I think it's because when you never quit talking, it's hard to come up with new material WITHOUT resorting to daily mundane activities.

And, it's actually interesting- I don't usually mind hearing about them, unless I'm in a hurry or something. But what is the point? Is silence really that bad? What are we scared is going to fill the silence if we don't fill it with chatter?

I say we, because I think all of us are infected to a lesser degree than The Talkative Friend by the need to not have long, awkward pauses in our conversation.

I have heard that one of the marks of a true friend is someone you can just sit with in silence and both of you be comfortable in that moment.

So, what do you think? Do you mind The Talkative Friend? Do you maybe like not having the pressure of maintaining your end of the conversation? Any suggestions out there? Do you think the 'silence test' is a good test of true friendship?

Let me know.

-The Poor Husband (Being quiet now to hear your thoughts)

*Here's a bonus video of another fast talker. Enjoy!

Just A Wii Little Problem

2009-10-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

Not long ago, I bought a used Wii game system for the family. For awhile, we all really got into Wii Fit, but like most things healthy, that did not continue.

Ben has a friend with a Wii and his friend has Mario Kart. Ben put his mind to buying Mario Kart, saved a bunch of money, sold a ton of toys at our last yard sale, and soon had the money needed to buy the game.

I was happy because Ben sold enough stuff to fill the back end of a small pickup truck and the new Wii game takes up about as much space as a paperback novel. Anyone with kids knows what a blessing this is.

Ever since Ben bought the game, it has sort of captured the attention, enthusiasm, and every spare moment of free time the kids have.

Rachael had bought a charger and rechargeable battery packs for our two Wii controllers. The idea being we would save money in the long run since we would no longer have to buy batteries. This is a great theory, but the other day, the cold hard facts absolutely refused to subscribe to the theory.

One controller was fine, but the other one was in the charger, where Rachael had placed it. To make sure it was ready for our next video-game session. The only problem was that she had placed the one with batteries in the charger. Not the rechargeable battery pack....

With normal batteries inserted, there is nothing but blank white plastic to rest against the metal charging rods of the charger.

The source of recharging was there, but until it was properly plugged in, it did no good.

So, of course, the remote was dead as could be.

This got me thinking.

How often do we try to 'plug in' to something to re-energize without even knowing what we're doing? Or what we're really looking for? How many people have left on a self-discovery adventure of 'finding themselves' only to realize at the end of it that they're more lost than when they started?

Sometimes the best intentions result in nothing more than burned out batteries and an inability to accomplish what we are striving for.

It has been said that the average family spends more time planning their annual vacation than they do planning their financial futures.

I think we often plug in our time and energy to things that actually drain us instead of revive us. Has this ever happened to you?

What is your source of strength? Where do you go when your batteries are burned out and dead? Physically? Spiritually? Emotionally?

What steps will we take today to be sure we 'plug-in' to those things that actually help us accomplish our goals and desires? Too often, we trade what we REALLY, TRULY want because we get distracted by what we want RIGHT NOW. Only to have RIGHT NOW fade forever, with nothing to show for it. And all our time was spent on RIGHT NOW so we never had the time to accomplish what we REALLY, TRULY wanted.

I have learned that the car I drive, the house I live in, the money in my wallet, and pretty much all other physical rewards or accomplishments pale in comparison to the family hikes, the kids' smiles and giggles, the homework time with kids, the fellowship of friends, and time spent communing with God in prayer and study.

And yet, the other things seem to take up so much of my time, that I often neglect the things that matter most. What about you? Any secrets out there?

Rachael and the Mennonite Vacation

2009-10-05T20:30:00.000-07:00

So, I'll get back to the Friends With Hangups series, but there have been a few interesting stories that have happened that I feel I need to share also. Then we'll get back to all the hangups. They'll still be waiting for us when we return.

Tonight I sat down to write my latest post about Life With Rachael. I was in the process of downloading pictures for two future posts, one about charging the Wii remote, and one about a recent experiment that involved frying syrup on the naked stove top, no pans needed.

As the pictures were downloading, Rachael started a conversation out of nowhere.

"You know where I want to go and spend a week for our next vacation?"

I thought about it for a minute. Several destinations entered my mind.

Maybe Hawaii or Kauai. We have a condo there, but have never visited. Or maybe a cruise. Or another state. Or a national park. We love National Parks. We love hiking. All of these were potential candidates, but I really have learned that it's sometimes best to just ask, as Rachael's thoughts can tend to run on the random and sometimes indiscernible side.

"I don't know, Hon. Where would you like to go for a week's vacation?"

"A Mennonite Community."

Wow. That was so random. I mean, really. If she had handed me a piece of paper and a pencil and asked me to guess what her future week's vacation plans were with a guarantee of 30 days straight back massages if I could guess it in 10 guesses, I'm pretty sure I'd have no recourse if I happened to get a sore back in the next month.

"A Mennonite Community. Wow- I never saw that coming. Sometimes you're so random. Why a Mennonite Community?"

"Simple Living. And going to church every day."

I know what some of you are thinking. 'Simple living might be OK, but I thought church was something you HAVE to do. Kind of put in your time to get on God's good side, but sitting in the pew counting off the minutes until you get to eat lunch.'

I'd be lying to say I've never had those feelings, but I try hard to remember the big picture. Don't go to church because you HAVE to- Go because you want to. Because you can grow there. Because you can be a part of something much bigger than you. Because God has welcomed you to be a part of His big plan. And, there is not a BIGGER or more important plan anywhere.

One of the things I'm thankful for when living Life With Rachael is that Rachael has a true desire to do what's right and to serve God. Now she's human, just like you and me, and she's not perfect, so there are times that she doesn't feel like going to church either, but as a whole, she's one of the most pure-hearted, honestly motivated individuals I've ever known. I am sure you're thinking I'm somewhat biased, and I'm sure you are correct, but I really do believe there is some truth to what I'm saying. It's one of the things I absolutely love about Rachael.

So, who knows?

Maybe we'll find ourselves spending a week with a Community of Mennonites sometime in the future. It would definitely be a different vacation, but it might prove very interesting, relaxing, and enriching. It would probably be a good experience for the kids, as well.

I'm listening to an audiobook novel right now about a doctor that was sued for malpractice, had a hard time dealing with the aftermath and went to Peru on a backpacking vacation. While there, he started helping out with an orphanage and when it turned out they needed a doctor, he decided to stay on. Found that the simpler life was a lot more rewarding than the hustle and bustle of where he had previously called home. His vacation turned into a life-long mission.

What about you? Have ever made a go at a simpler life? Or ever had an untraditional vacation? How did it go? What conclusions did you come to?

The Insecure Friend

2009-10-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

--------------------------------

"I, a stranger and afraid

In a world I never made."

-A. E. Housman

If you've not yet checked out the original post for this series, please do so now. Rachael recently brought up an interesting topic regarding how our ability to co-mingle with others is affected by our own hang-ups, or the lack thereof. This got me thinking about the various hang-ups we all have.

Today, we're looking at The Insecure Friend. You know the one. This person needs constant re-assurance whenever they are talking to their friends. While you want to be a help to them, you eventually get tired of being the eternal placater.

A typical conversation will go something like this:

Insecure Friend: "I'm just not sure what to do about my work situation. What do you think?"

You: "Well, it sounds like you've been given a great opportunity- I'd go for it, if it was me."

Insecure Friend: "Yeah, but I just don't know if I'm good enough to do that."

---Long dramatic pause---

(This is where you are supposed to read the invisible cue-cards they are holding up and say..."

You: "Of course you're good enough. You've done it a long time and you'll do fine."

Insecure Friend: "I don't know if I'm smart enough..."

---Another long dramatic pause---

You (reading invisible cue cards once again): "Of course you are- Remember when you tackled your last project- You did great with it."

The temporary look of happiness on their face as a result of your compliment is instantly replaced with deep-browed wrinkled worried eyes.

Insecure Friend: "Do you really think I could...?"

So, how would the perfectly well-adjusted individual with no hang-ups handle this situation? Would they continue to appease them with their compliments, or would they discern the fact that doing so is actually reinforcing inappropriate behavior? Would they find a kind way to talk to their friend about the problem? Would they ignore it?

What do you suggest?

While the following is sometimes maybe fun to consider, it is probably not the best choice:

Insecure Friend: "I'm just not sure what to do about my work situation. What do you think?"

You: "Well, it sounds like you've been given a great opportunity- I'd go for it, if it was me."
Insecure Friend: "Yeah, but I just don't know if I'm good enough to do that."
---Long dramatic pause---

(This is where you are supposed to read the invisible cue-cards they are holding up. But in this case, the cards seem to have been smudged because you can't quite make out the words. oh well, you say what you've wanted to for so long...
You: "Yeah- You may not be good enough. Better to play it safe than to find out."

Insecure Friend: "Well, I just don't know if I'm smart enough..."
---Another long dramatic pause---
You (mis-reading invisible cue cards once again): "That's a good point. That position would require a lot of cognitive ability."

Insecure friend walks off stage-left.

Obviously, none of us wants to do this. No one wants to hurt their friend. So the big question is, 'How do you help them?' Not necessarily help them to feel better right now, because the answer to that seems to lead to the inevitable never-ending circle game of constantly buttressing their weaknesses while they practically require your praise as much as the food or water or air they need. But how do you help them long-term?

Wikihow says you should basically keep complimenting them until they begin to see themselves more positively. Again, I'm not sure that's the best route to take for their permanent happiness.

At this point, you might want to click this link. It is a very silly video and song. You can either watch it, or just listen to it while you keep reading, but it's meant to help those that are feeling small and insignificant. I think it might just do the opposite, but you be the judge.

My best guess at a solution to the problem is that a recommendation for them to read some good books that deal with why we have the problems we do would be in order. I would strongly recommend just about anything by Cloud/Townsend. They are the authors of the 'Boundaries' series. They have great insight and provide biblically-based sound advice for those that are hurting and struggling. And even for those that aren't. I don't think anyone could read their books without gaining some insight about themselves. Check it out at http://www.cloudtownsend.com/.

For those of us that are dealing with our own baggage, here is an excellent video clip from Cloud/Townsend.

So, what are your thoughts? Any success stories? Any attempts that either worked, or did not? Looking forward to your comments...

-The Poor Husband

***If you liked this post, check out some of the others and be sure to click on the 'follow' button.***

The One-Upper Friend

2009-10-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

Continuing the discussion of the 'perfectly adjusted friend', how would they handle the One-Upper Friend? You know the one- They have done everything just a little bit better than you. The have ran faster, swam farther, belched louder, worhipped longer, prayed louder, worked harder, thought smarter, and created long lists of hang-ups better, than you could ever hope to.

What do you do with such a friend?

Better question- What would the person with no hang-ups, the perfectly well-adjusted person do with such a friend?

I am not sure, but I think it would be fun to do the following, provided your concern for the health of the friendship is not that significant:

**Warning- only do this if you are ready to permanently part ways with your one-upper friend.**

1. Buy a small digital recorder. The kind that fits in your pocket.
2. Hit the record button right before you walk over to begin a conversation with them.
3. Start talking about how many situps you were able to do.
4. Wait for the One-Upper to do what he does best.
5. Act duly impressed with his prowess.
6. End the conversation as soon as possible.
7. Wait a month or two, so the conversation will not be in the fore-front of his brain.
8. Bring up the conversation of your working out again. Again mention how many situps you were able to do. Only this time, state the exact number that he had previously said he was able to do.
9. Allow him to one-up you as he always does.
10. Remove the digital recorder from your pocket and press play. Without saying a word, simply walk away when the recorder has finished.

Then, go home and realize that you one-upped the One-Upper.

On second thought, is that what you really want to do?

This is where we all find ourselves in trouble, at times. In our responses to obnoxious habits of friends, we can often times manifest an exaggerated example of the very fault we disliked in them.

Of course, it is so much easier, and quite a bit more fun, to look for their faults, than it is to examine our own.

But which will be the most beneficial?

**If you liked this post, please be sure to check out a few others, and click the 'follow' button. And, of course, tell all of your friends about it. Thanks! -The Poor Husband**

The Over-Bearing Friend

2009-09-30T06:00:00.000-07:00

Recently, Rachael brought up an interesting topic regarding how well a completely well-adjusted person would fare in the world today.

How would they handle The Over-Bearing Friend?

You know who I'm talking about. The friend of yours that is completely over-bearing in your relationship with them. The one that never found a conversation they could not talk louder than.

Would a completely well-adjusted person allow the person to control every conversation, or would they be able to stop The Over-Bearing Friend in his tracks before every train of thought was de-railed?

I have had a few experiences with The Over-Bearing Friend. I'm sure we all have. In fact, we've all probably BEEN the over-bearing friend at times.

If you have one of these friends, it might be fun to plan the following exercise.

1. Write down a list of things The Over-Bearing Friend is good at or has accomplished.
2. Begin talking about one of these topics.
3. Guess before-hand how many seconds it will be before he is talking about his subject. Without waiting for you to finish, of course.
4. When he interrupts, do not quit talking like you normally do.
5. Talk louder, matching him as he talks, volume increase by volume increase.
6. Be sure you have planned enough to say so you do not have to quit talking due to a lack of material.
7. Predict before-hand how loud you think you'll have to be talking to keep up with him.
8. Plan a semi-public place to do this. Somewhere that is not right beside other people, but close enough that they will hear you after you've raised the volume level three or four times.
9. When you are both talking at the loudest you anticipate being able to maintain, quit talking completely.
10. Sit in absolute silence and see how long it takes for The Over-Bearing Friend to cease screaming and lower his volume. Meanwhile, sit back and enjoy the looks of the people watching your friend belt out his stories to you.

So, what do you think? What is the correct way to handle a person that is over-bearing? Has anyone had success in dealing with this without damaging the friendship?

Rachael and The Hang Ups

2009-09-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

Saturday was our yard sale day. We spent all of Friday evening preparing for it and all of Saturday setting it up, selling off a bunch of stuff, and taking it down. This pretty much consumed our weekend.

On Sunday mornings, I am typically in charge of making breakfast for the kids and me. This morning, Rachael woke me up and let me know that we didn't have any oatmeal and that the kitchen was in no condition to try and cook anything.

We decided on McDonald's.

On the way there, Rachael decided she wanted to go to Starbucks to get their oatmeal and then meet us at McD's.

On the way to church, Rachael brought up something she said she was thinking about in line at Starbucks. She posed the question this way:

"What if two parents could raise a child with absolutely no hang-ups. They raised this child to be completely, totally, and perfectly well-adjusted with no physical, emotional, or spiritual baggage as a result of poor parenting skills. Would this child be able to develop stronger, better relationships with others, or would s/he be ostracized due to not being able to empathize or connect with less well-adjusted friends?"

It's an interesting question.

I tend to think that this individual may have fewer friends, but that the friends s/he had would be fairly healthy (relationship wise) people that would allow for strong and lasting friendships. So, the quantity of friends may be less, but the quality would be greatly increased.

What do you think?

Who are the best adjusted people you know? (No names, please). Are they better able to interact with others and develop strong friendships? Or, no?

This got me thinking about the various types of hang-ups we so carefully guard and protect from childhood as we make our way into the 'real world'. Here are just a few:

1. The over-bearing friend. This friend never saw a conversation he could not talk louder than.
2. The one-upper friend. This friend never heard of something you have done that they have not done better. If you can paint a house in 4 hours, they did it in 3 1/2. If you lost 10 pounds, they lost 15.
3. The insecure friend. This friend never experienced a conversation with someone without having to get re-assurance about their own self-worth.
4. The talkative friend. Can be closely related to the over-bearing friend, but not always. This person feels awkward if there is more than a .75 second pause in the conversation and is quick to fill every pause with stories of their daily life.
5. The analytical friend. Analyzing can be a great thing. But over-analyzing every single action or word can be quite wearisome to the one that is the subject of the analysis.
6. The blogging friend. Oops, I guess that's me. Better skip that one.
7. The fair-weather funny friend. A little alliteration for you there. This friend is actually quite funny at times. However, you always laugh at his jokes, even when they are not so great. He does not return the favor. You're left wondering if you really have no sense of humor, or if he just isn't gracious enought to return the laughing favor.
8. The braggart friend. This is similar to number 2, but this friend does not need to hear about your accomplishments before bragging about their own. If this person makes lots of money, you know how much. If this person is strong, you have felt his muscles. If this friend has a fast car, you have the horsepower memorized from hearing it so often.
9. The co-dependent friend. This friend's 'faults' happen to fit nicely with your 'rescuing'. And, often, vice-versa. This can seem like a good thing at first. But watch out if one friend begins to get healthy- The other will not know what to do!
10. The prankster friend. This friend loves to play practical jokes, especially when you are the butt of the joke. While we all enjoy this at times, some seem to take it to an extreme.

This will serve as a nice list to get the topic started. How about you? What hang-ups do ~~you~~ your friends have? What others should be added to the list? Check back in the future for a little more detailed description of some of these.

Which of these do you find to be the most annoying? Have you found any way to effectively deal with them?

-Thankful to be living Life With Rachael so we can have the chance to explore this interesting topic.

-The Poor Husband

Life With Rachael- Caption?

2009-09-27T21:20:00.000-07:00

Today I thought I'd let you help write the post. I took a couple of pictures of Rachael today that just beg for your captions.

We are painting at our church. When I walked into the sanctuary, this is what I saw:

Your Caption Here

In case you have not guessed, that is indeed Rachael. When I saw this, I had a few captions come to mind.

1. "Maybe if I crawl under here, no one will be able to find me. I can zone for awhile without being interrupted."

2. "I know I put my cell phone somewhere. Maybe it's under here!"

3. "If I can't see them, they can't see me."

4. "There's my purse!"

5. "Just thought I'd practice hiding in case I ever come face to face with the manager of Chevron again."

But, I need your help. This picture just pleads to have your caption added to it. Please comment so everyone can see.

Here is a second picture, in case you want to caption it, as well~

Kind of looks like she's praying.

Add your caption now. Thanks!

Rachael and The Stinky Rose

2009-09-26T21:23:00.000-07:00

"A Rose By Any Other Name..."

Today, we had a yard sale. It was an incredible family affair. The kids sold tons of stuff, we sold tons of stuff and it was a great day.

Twice a year, our entire neighborhood (Oak Hills) has a huge yard sale. This year, around 50 families participated. There were deals to be had everywhere. I went to a few of my neighbor's yard sales and talked with several residents, and we're not sure if anyone from outside the neighborhood ever even comes to these yard sales. The suspicion is that we basically just trade items from one house in the neighborhood to another.

This is great until you see your friend's wife at a neighborhood BBQ and she starts to talk to you.

"Hey- Good to see you! Nice shirt, by the way. My husband has one just like it." and then you have to explain that he actually doesn't have a shirt just like it any more because you bought it from him at the last yard barter. Which is one of the reasons, among many others I assure you, that one should never buy their underwear at a yard sale.

Our neighborhood has a tradition. At the end of the day, Goodwill vans and trucks can be seen everywhere. Around 3 PM, all the residents start taking all of their unsold treasures to the street and Goodwill takes it away. Goodwill gets some great stuff, we get a tax deduction, and everyone is happy.

Each year, it's kind of fun to watch the race that develops. People start placing their ~~junk~~ treasures out at the street shortly before Goodwill gets there. This leaves a narrow window of opportunity for people to come by and get the deal of the day- Everything they want for free.

While my wife assures me that she was not officially entered in this Scavenger Race, all I know is she raced off down the street minutes in front of a Goodwill truck. A few minutes later, she came back, somewhat breathless with excitement.

She found a box-springs and mattress for Ben, our youngest. His current mattress has definitely seen better days, and she found a Sealy box-springs and mattress in great shape. She swooped in, as any good scavenger is known to do, and bought it from them, just as Goodwill was loading the last of their stuff into their truck. Two minutes later and she'd have been too late and they'd have been $5 poorer.

She told me about the great deal and asked me if I'd go pick it up. I was pretty happy about this, as well, and headed down the road to the address she gave me. She told me it was on 1234 Century Oak, which is right around the corner from our house. I went down there, and turned left, but the street addresses did not match. I turned around and crossed our street, keeping my eyes open for the sought after address.

It did not exist.

When I turned left off of our street, the addresses were all too small. When I turned around and went on the other side of our street, the addresses were all 5 digits.

I called Rachael. Now, since Rachael has lost the last several cell phones she has had, and is currently without one, I hoped against hope that she'd hear the home phone, since she was outside watching over our yard sale.

Apparently, my little prayer worked, because Rachael answered. I was sure to say hi before she had even finished with her 'hello' to avoid her hanging up on me.

I told her I needed to confirm the address. She repeated the numbers and told me again that it was on Century Oak. I told her that the address did not exist.

She sounded a little exasperated and told me that she was absolutely positive it did, as she'd just been there. I asked her if she was sure it was on Century Oak. She said yes- absolutely sure.

I told her that Century Oak is the street right next to where we live, and I wanted to be sure that's the road she is talking about.

She said 'no' and said it was right off of the road that enters our neighborhood from Hwy. 156. She tried to convince me that I just needed to go to the other end of Century Oak and I'd find the right address.

Now, I know our neighborhood pretty well, and I knew that Century Oak did not go where she was talking about.

I began driving to the area she described.

I soon found the address. The only problem was that it was on Canyon Oak, not Century Oak.

Not a huge difference, I guess. But enough to ensure we were never going to upgrade Ben's mattress. And the funniest part of it all was how absolutely positive Rachael was that it was Century Oak. Positive. Completely so.

Century - Canyon

Canyon- Century

They sound almost the same. But in this case, the name was more than just a name. It was an entirely different street.

Below is Shakespeare's lines from a little over 400 years ago about what's in a name, immediately followed by the Life With Rachael-Inspired version. Enjoy!

From Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, 1594:

JULIET:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.

Rachael's Inspired Version:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art the street, though not the Century.
What's Canyon? it is neither Century, nor Charter,
Nor Cathedral, nor any other Oak,
Belonging to Oak Hills. O, please give me the right name!
What's in a name? that which we call a Canyon
By any other name would ensure being lost;
So Canyon Oak, were it not Canyon Oak call'd
Retain that address at any cost,
Keep that title. Canyon Oak, retain they name,
And with that name that is a part of thee,
I will find thee myself.

10 Things I Absolutely Love About Rachael

2009-09-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

Life With Rachael is sometimes filled with a little TOO much excitement. A little TOO many forgotten items. Too many destroyed gas pumps and too many lost cell phones.

Hey, at least it never gets boring.

Tonight, I was thinking about the things that make Rachael special in my eyes.

1. Her absolute honest love. This provides a firm foundation for deeper relationships.

2. Her sweet and caring spirit. She truly cares about others and shows it in many ways.

3. Her music/singing talents. I absolutely love to sit and listen to her play and sing.

4. Her successful connections with the kids. This does not always come easy or natural, and Rachael has conquered it.

5. Her thoughtfulness. Her thoughtfulness and her forgetfulness can sometime vie for attention, seeking the ultimate approval from Rachael, but when she thinks about another person, she tries to make sure they are happy.

6. Her honesty. Rachael tries harder than just about anyone I've ever known to do the right thing and be honest on a day-to-day basis.

7. Her sincere searching. Her willingness to delve into new topics to develop an informed belief.

8. Her ability to make me a better person by sharing a life with her.

9. Her ability to complete me. I would truly no longer be whole if Rachael was not in my life.

10. Her beautiful, sparkling blue eyes when she is excited about something. I love that sparkle. Sometimes I miss that sparkle. As we get older, so many things (me being one of them at times) can take away the sparkle. All of us have to work hard to retain the 'sparkle' in our own lives.

I know, I know - They're really not that funny. I ask you to indulge me this time to talk about the great things that make Rachael so wonderful, even if they aren't quite as exciting as driving off 3 times, ripping the nozzle out of the gas pump. Or 4x4'in in the car wash. Or flooding the house for the 3rd time.

Rachael is truly one of the most honest, loving, compassionate people I have ever known. I am thankful that God allowed us to be together.

She truly is one Heck of a good woman/wife/mother/friend.

I am blessed.

Rachael and the Lost Ark

2009-09-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a multi-sensory experience. To accomplish this, I need for you to right click this link and select 'Open in New Tab'. Let the video play. Don't worry- you don't need to watch it, you only need the sounds in the background. If you're internet connection is slow, you may want to let it download for awhile so you won't get those annoying pauses. Once this is accomplished, AND NOT BEFORE, go ahead and continue reading this.

This weekend, I had made plans to spend some time with a few great friends. Kind of a guys-weekend-out sort of thing.

We all planned on meeting around lunch time to start the weekend right by catching lunch at a good restaurant.

I got up early in the morning to ensure that I could get everything done in time to leave by 8AM. I looked outside to see what the day looked like. Imagine my surprise when I saw 2 wild turkeys standing in my backyard, as if at attention.

Interesting, but not enough to sway me from my schedule.

I started packing.

Everything was going great until I looked for underwear. There was only one pair and, while tempting to try to make it work, that was not going to be enough for the whole weekend.

Rachael told me that it would not be a problem because she knew there were a few pairs in the washer and she said she would put them in the dryer for me.

I figured I might have to live with packing a slightly damp pair of underwear, but I've lived through worse. I waited to get the underwear out of the dryer until the last possible moment to give them as much time as possible to dry.

In the meantime, I began packing my truck. I noticed 2 squirrels in the front yard, standing there staring at me. Even when I walked close to them, they didn't scamper away.

Whatever.

I went back inside and into the laundry room and opened the door to the dryer. Lot of blankets, lots of clothes.

No underwear.

I looked again.

Still no underwear.

Now one of my short-comings is the unique ability to look directly at something and not see it. I say unique, because if you happen to be female, it's fairly unique. Unfortunately, for us guys, it seems to be fairly common. If you are unsure of this fact, just ask any woman and she'll set you straight.

Recognizing my possible over-sight, I decided to take every single item out of the dryer, one piece at a time to be sure I did not over-look it. There was no underwear.

I called Rachael. She said she was sure there had been a pair of underwear in the dryer. My friends and I had talked about the possibility of going kayaking so I was going to need at least two more pairs anyway. I told Rachael I'd just go to Wal-Mart somewhere and pick some up.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time I've had to resort to buying new underwear or socks, due to a lack of clean garments. In fact, I am certain if all the clothes were to ever be washed at one time, we'd have to buy 3 more dressers just to hold the clean clothes.

It was now a few minutes after 8AM.

I try to be very punctual. As a matter of fact, some would even go so far as to say I am kind of a stickler about being punctual. I was trying my best to just roll with it, but I was concerned I'd be putting my friends out if they had to wait on me to eat lunch.

I was just jalking down the hallway, ready to leave, when a sudden peace descended on me. Jalking is when you're not quite walking, not quite jogging, but kind of stuck in the gear right between the two.

Where was this feeling of peace coming from, you ask?

I knew you'd ask that.

It was the strangest thing.

While standing within the confines of the walls of my home, I heard the distinctly clear, soothing, and relaxing sounds of a waterfall. Kind of like the sounds you are listening to right now.

I don't know about you, but I find the gentle sounds of water falling quite peaceful.

On the bank of a gently rolling stream.

Across the lake from a waterfall.

While rafting down a river.

I absolutely love God's creation and often stand in wonder while looking at it and listening to it. However, I've made a discovery in life.

The sound of falling water is much more appreciated when it is outside. Of your house. Not when it's coming from the kitchen area.

I stopped my quick jalking, turned around and headed back towards the kitchen. It was then I realized the sounds were coming from the laundry room.

I was afraid I knew what was going on.

Not necessarily because I'm particularly psychic, but because this was not the first time we have had a waterfall in the house.

It was the 3rd time.

While I am all for Rachael trying to stay calm, relaxed, and peaceful, I really do think I'm going to have to draw the line at any more indoor waterfalls. Apparently, Rachael is in agreement and is planning on doing something to solve similar future problems. What, I'm not sure. But something.

I tried to strategically position the mounds of dirty clothes and blankets so as to help curtail the spread of the flood, but the damage had already been done- The water had stealthily crept into the kitchen, around the corner, and down the hall, wetting the carpet, pad, and underlayment as it went. I am particularly thankful that I used to be a termite inspector so I really have a good grasp of the damage this can cause. Especially after 3 large floods. And probably a few smaller ones Rachael has conveniently forgotten to tell me about.

I finished all of this as quickly as I could. I didn't do any more jalking. I was now in full-on jogging mode. I called Rachael to tell her about the situation, and ran out the door. I almost stepped on a couple of lizards that seemed to be waiting for me on the front porch. What's with all the animals?

I was, of course, late to my lunch. By about 40 minutes. Fortunately, I have good friends and they seemed to understand. They'd even ordered my Diet Coke for me and it was waiting on the table when I walked in.

We had a great weekend and I returned home Sunday evening.

To another relaxing sound.

The sound of a large fan blowing on the up-turned carpet, trying to dry it out. Kind of fills the role of a modern-day ark I guess. Only instead of keeping everything dry, it's drying it out after the fact.

When it's too late.

And for the 3rd time.

I finally realized why there were so many pairs of animals waiting outside my house. They had not read God's promise to never flood the world again, and they were getting ready, just in case.

Gotta Do Something. I wonder what it will be?

By the way, Rachael swears that she found the missing pair of underwear. Oh yeah, and the animals? That was the only part of the story that was not true.

-For Rachael's side of the story, be sure to click here.

***If you liked this post, be sure to check out a few others, and click the 'follow' tab. And tell all your friend, neighbors, and relatives. And comment. And become my unpaid marketing expert. Or whatever. I just hope you enjoy it. Thanks! - The Poor Husband***

Tomorrow

2009-09-20T20:59:00.000-07:00

Hope everyone had a great weekend! I was out of town for the weekend and just got back. Check back tomorrow night, as I'll try to post a new entry then. You'll be able to hear about Rachael And The Missing Ark.

Until then!

-The Poor Husband

Babies Out For Blood

2009-09-17T21:43:00.000-07:00

In just a second, I'm going to ask you to close your eyes and use your imagination.

I want you to pretend you're back in the 80's. Or, for those too young to remember, just think of the various 80's horror movies you have seen.

I want you to turn off your light.

I want you to think of a cold, dark night.

Imagine yourself all alone.

You begin to hear something. You're not sure exactly what it is, but it sounds ominous. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow move. When you look, it seems to retreat out of the room, leaving a violent vacuum in its wake.

So, with that as your preamble, sit in the dark and imagine a blood-thirsty baby stalking you as you sit there.

For those with no imagination, I went ahead and added a trailer for Chucky.

I think they made about 47 Chucky films. Chucky 1-9, Chuckies, Chuck-O-Luck, Bride of Chucky, Son of Chucky, 3rd Cousin-Twice-Removed Of Chucky, Friend-Of-A-Friend Of Chucky, etc, so I know there must be some fans out there somewhere.

Let's just say that Rachael is anything but a fan.

For those of you that regularly read her blog, My Poor Husband, you know that she's doing a series of posts about her pet peeves. On a similar note, I thought I'd talk about one of her somewhat irrational, sometimes hilarious fears.

I played a trailer to some movie about a murdering baby with Rachael sitting beside me. Here is the result:

She is absolutely terrified of baby killers. Not the abortion doctor kind, but the babies that come and kill you. While I am sure this must be a frequent part of everyday life for some, I have never yet been subjected to murderous mayhem coming from anyone under the age of 10.

But that doesn't stop Rachael from being deathly afraid of them. In fact, when I was trying to watch the 'Chucky' trailer, Rachael went a little crazy in terror. I took a picture for you to enjoy. I couldn't even watch the whole trailer, so if it turns out to be anything other than a Chucky trailer, someone be sure to let me know.

Rachael listening to the Chucky Trailer

I thought of this phobia of Rachael's when I was in Target the other day. I walked by a row of little innocent looking baby dolls.

But they were not at all innocent.

They were programmed to start talking and cooing and moving their heads and all the other things the manufacturers could think of when you walked by them. Just so your kids will say they absolutely must have one.

Anyway, as I walked by them and they all started making their baby noises at once, I couldn't help but think that Rachael would freak out if she walked by this aisle.

Since she could not see it in person, I made sure to take a picture:

And a couple videos:

So, the next time you're settling down for a nice relaxing book to read, or a soothing bath, or just all alone on a cold, dark, stormy night, keep at least one eye on the dolls in your house. They may mutinize and come after you when you least expect it. And, if you know Rachael is going to be alone, do me a favor and bring a Chucky doll over to our front door, ring the doorbell, run away, and record the reaction when Rachael opens the door.

I'm pretty sure that would be a great blog post.

So, what about you? Do you have any irrational fears? The only one I have is an irrational fear of having my head under water. While I used to sometimes freak out just from taking a shower, I have now progressed beyond that. After all, there are too many murdering babies out there to stick your head under the shower-stream.

Someone needs to keep an eye on them.

Feel free to share your own irrational fears in the comments section.

***If you liked this post, be sure to tell everyone, click the 'follow' button, write a review, link, it etc. If you hated it, please be quiet about it. :-) ***

Rachael and the Pooping Woman

2009-09-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend was the Greek Festival in Santa Cruz. Rachael and I go to Santa Cruz for church, so we are there almost every Sunday. The Greek Festival is held once a year, but we have never been able to go before. Rachael is usually too tired. Today, however, she was up for it, so we decided to check it out.

I am one that absolutely loves to try new things, food being at the top of my enjoyment list! So, I was truly looking forward to attending.

We were following some friends from church over there. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Life With Rachael is typically not ordinary, so I knew something had to happen. Kind of like when your kids have been quiet for tooooo long. The first few minutes are pure bliss, then casual enjoyment, but after about 20 or 30 minutes of complete quiet, you are almost scared to go into their rooms for fear of what you might find.

As we're navigating our way through the traffic in downtown Santa Cruz, Rachael blurts out loudly, "It looks like that woman is pooping!"

Now, I have developed a somewhat steady response resistance to most comments that are blurted out. This is an almost indispensable trait to have when you live Life With Rachael AND have 3 kids, all in the same vehicle at the same time.

But even I was taken aback by this one.

"Huh?" was about all I could manage.

"It looks like that woman is pooping!"

Santa Cruz is known for its weirdness, but women pooping in public are still considered a bit extreme. Even for Santa Cruz. Though I'm sure if it ever catches on as a fad, Santa Cruz will probably lead the way.

Anyway, I looked over. All I saw was a statue in a small park-like setting with a few vehicles on the street.

I saw no conspicuous woman.

And certainly not one pooping.

I looked over at Rachael as she was pointing at the statue.

"Doesn't it look like she's pooping?"

Umm, no, not really. But that's OK. It looks kind of like she's sitting on her foot. And I guess maybe a little like she's pooping. If you look hard enough.

By this time, Rachael has certainly received the attention of the kids. Our kids are 6, 8, and 9. At that age, there are no funnier words in the English language than poop and butt. So this is an entertaining conversation for them, whether or not the recipient of all the attention is simply a statue, a gilded woman, resting her haunches on her sculpted foot.

I pulled out my trusty side-arm camera, snapped a couple of quick pictures before I had to start driving again, and thought you'd like to see them.

We continued on our merry way, tried out some fantastic Greek food, heard some Greek music and singing, and had a great time.

And we have baklava that we brought home.

Plus we now have one more sure-fire way to hear the all-too-precious giggles of our kids. Just remind them of the Greek Festival and The Pooping Woman.

If you liked this story, please check out a few more posts. If you like them, please be sure to click on the 'follow' button. I hope you enjoy!!

Rachael the Replicant and the Blade Runner

2009-09-12T23:24:00.000-07:00

I ran across a review of the old film Blade Runner the other day that I think may help explain some things regarding Life With Rachael.

The link is at http://antimisandry.com/films/remains-day-blade-runner-shining-shining-23150.html

"The replicants are not human; but human creations and so perfect that you simply cannot tell them apart. But they’re not allowed to live on Earth. The blade runners are meant to kill any replicants that escape to Earth. .....

There is one laborious way to tell if a replicant is plying them self off as human and that is with a fancy machine that scans all non verbal communication. A blade runner will carry out the test as he asks a series of questions designed to present the suspect with various moral dilemmas. The Voight Kampff test machine then gives readings as to whether the suspect is human or not. The replicants are created as adults and have a 4 year life span, but the ones who escape to Earth want more life. Rachael is different, and doesn’t know she is a replicant; she also has implanted memories convincing her that she had a childhood and actually lived to her current age. (Emphasis mine)

Now, as any regular reader of my blog, Life With Rachael, can attest, this actually explains a lot.

Rachael the Replicant was created somewhere other than Earth. While she has done an amazingly remarkable job of fitting in, I think the challenges stem from the following true statements regarding the planet the replicants come from:

1. There are no cell phones. The replicants have no need for cell phones, as they don't gain anything by chit-chatting with each other. It's kind of like the toaster talking to the microwave. They both make some noise, but nothing much gets communicated. So, Rachael did not receive cell-phone protocol training. Which is what has resulted in her losing two cell phones within the past two to four weeks. It's not her fault. Darn replicant training!

2. There are no purses. Think about it. What does a woman carry in her purse? While the entire answer to this question is actually unknown to anyone of the male gender, we can go through the basics. Cell phone- replicants weren't trained to use them. Lipstick- replicants don't need them as their lips are created the perfect shade. That about sums it up. Having no need for a purse, replicants are not trained regarding the risks of leaving their purse at book stores, on the top of their car, etc.
3. There are no BBQ's. Replicants don't really need to eat, so they are not trained to keep the heat below 650 degrees when cooking on a BBQ.

4. There are no gas stations. Replicants do not drive. They take advantage of the latest state-of-the-art teletransporters. In fact, this has proven to be a major downfall for many a replicant. They are unable to properly operate their vehicle, which is a major give-away for blade runners to look for. And those that drive away with gas pumps still attached- Their replicant days are numbered. Somewhat related is number

5. There are no cars. Replicants have not been programmed to de-clutter or clean their vehicles. Just today, I asked Rachael if she could give me a short ride in her car. She got that worried look on her perfectly sculpted replicant face. She immediately got a trash bag and hurried out to her car. I'm thinking that Replicant Training 2.0 will probably have this important upgrade included. We shall see.

So, now, you and I both know the truth. The question becomes- What will we do about it?

Me?

I think I'll try to find my replicant remote and see if I can program it to run my DVD player as well. Then, I think I'll see if Rachael wants to join me to watch The Stepford Wives or something.

**If you liked this post, please check out some more posts and click the 'follow' button for regular updates. I truly hope you enjoy**

My Poor Husband: I Remember

2009-09-12T14:49:00.000-07:00

My Poor Husband: I Remember

This is my wife's blog post about 9-11. Check it out!

Never Forget

2009-09-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

It somehow did not seem fitting to try and tell another funny story about Life With Rachael, today of all days.

Instead, I thought I'd share with you my memory of September 11, 2001. I think I will always remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I first heard about the attacks.

Rachael and I had been married for about six and a half years. We were living in our house in Lincoln, CA. Rachael used to use her clock radio as an alarm clock. Her radio went off and she heard something about an airplane hitting a building, but she was half asleep and hit the snooze button.

My radio went off next, waking me up. At that point, the radio voice was saying that a second plane had just hit the twin towers. I quickly woke up and turned on the TV. Just in time to see the the reruns of the second plane crashing into the towers.

That memory will never go away.

Shortly after, we heard about the plane crashing into the pentagon.

I remember wondering just how far this was going to go. I was very shaken up. My dad had stayed the night with us and he and Rachael were downstairs. I went down there, and in my confused state, first said they got the capitol, meaning the pentagon. I finally got my story right and I remember my dad's next words.

"We're at war!"

Those words turned out to be true, although it has been a war unlike any we've fought before. It's hard to fight against a group of people that have no military, have no defined borders. We are fighting against an ideology, and unfortunately, that ideology has taken root in many places around the world.

Reading some of the comments on the tribute videos on YouTube absolutely infuriates me. Kids in class laughing and joking about what happened. Desecrating the graves and memories of those that lost their lives because of the sadistic ideologies of perverted terrorists.

And some in this country laugh. Or worse. Make up theories that our own government created the destruction, which of course exonerates our real enemies, the terrorists.

I truly do think it's time for America to wake up. We are destroying ourselves from the inside out much worse than any enemy can hurt us from the outside.

It's time for us to realize that we should thank God for how he has blessed us.

Not curse him. Not use his name as a swear word. Not teach our children that there is no right and wrong. Not neglect and forsake the very God that has blessed us so tremendously. Not sacrifice our children on the altar of a two-parent income where neither parent has the time, energy, or motivation to make sure their kids are raised with morals and values, and decency and honor.

It is time for us to realize that we have some very real and very evil enemies.

Not try to sugar-coat it. Not be willing to give up good sense in an effort to 'understand' them. Not try to place the blame on ourselves. Not be so naive as to think that they are anything other than what they are- cold blooded, evil-hearted terrorists. They can not be bargained with. They can not be trusted.

Peace can not happen as long as they are out their planning our demise.

We can not love them enough to make them change. We can not wish hard enough for them to go away. We must take action to protect ourselves. We must be vigilant. We must never forget.

We must pray to God for the safety of our nation and the salvation of their souls and ours.

So, what about you? Where were you when you first heard about it? Feel free to share your stories and thoughts.

May God Bless America.

May we bless God.

A Meal Fit For A King

2009-09-10T22:05:00.000-07:00

Tonight, we had an excellent dinner. We had salmon, lentils (fixed sweet and sour style-more on that later), nectarines, and tomatoes, which were fresh from the garden, and especially tasty.

Now, if I didn't live Life With Rachael, that would probably be the end of this post. Which would be fairly boring.

Fortunately for both of us, I do live Life With Rachael. Which is many things, but boring usually doesn't make its way onto the list.

I was in the living room with a couple of our kids when I heard a stifled scream/shriek from the kitchen. The smoke alarm hadn't went off yet, so I figured there was probably not a fire. But I was still a little concerned. I ran over to the kitchen. I heard Rachael saying, "I'm all right. I'm all right." Which is, of course, the one thing you should not say unless you want everyone to find out exactly what's going on.

Just as I walked through the doorway, Rachael relieved herself of her glasses and IPOD. She did this almost as quickly as she can hang up the phone on me when I call her.

She next started doing a slightly unusual dance in the middle of the kitchen floor. Now Rachael is definitely more prone to dance spontaneously than I am, but this dance did not seem like the normal, run-of-the-mill happy dance. It looked more like the I'm-standing-on-the-hot-potato dance. I'm not sure that's an official dance, but that's what it looked like.

She started saying, 'It's down my shirt. It's down my shirt.' The next thing I know, that problem is solved as both Rachael's shirts and 2 large pieces of semi-steaming salmon chunks are now residing on the kitchen floor. I'm not quite sure how the salmon chunks somehow flew through the air and made their way down the front of Rachael's shirt, but that will remain a mystery for now.

Being the kind and compassionate husband I am, I carefully placed her IPOD and glasses on the table and then I was immediately taking pictures. My commitment to constantly wear a camera on my belt is truly paying off. While I had to crop one of the pictures of Rachael, since her shirt was laying on our kitchen floor, I really wanted you to be able to see the look on her face as she realized I was snapping her picture. ***Addendum- Rachael did not like the way her face looked in the picture and FORBADE me to upload it. Something about teeth, and chins, and who knows what else. I'm pretty sure if you pressure her enough, she may let me upload it though. We'll see.***

Rachael left the kitchen, went to the bedroom, and soon returned. The next time I saw her, she was pulling the neck of her shirt out, and blowing down the front of her shirt, trying to cool the burning sensation that evidentally was still bothering her. I, of course, took a picture.

When the excitement finally calmed, the entire family settled down for a nice meal. As mentioned, it was a fantastic meal consisting of salmon, lentils, nectarines, and tomatoes. The lentils were the most interesting part of the meal. They were fixed 'sweet-and-sour' style, and really tasted more like a topping than a side dish.

And, of course, that's because they were.

Rachael had finished making them before she looked at the bottom of the recipe she was using to see that the recipe was created as a topping to go over rice.

Unfortunately, we had no rice.

This is not the first time Rachael has seen the big picture while missing a few of the small details. We'll have a post on that in the future.

As often happens when one is more creative than systematic, we were faced with the challenge of making do with what we had. As they say, 'Necessity is the mother of invention.'

We quickly discovered that while the sweet-and-sour lentils were intended as a topping for rice, they worked just as well as a topping for salmon.

Just one more exciting day that would otherwise probably be a little bit boring if it were not for living Life With Rachael.

For Rachael's version of this story, as well as a few other details from her day today, check out her post on her blog, My Poor Husband.

**If you liked this, be sure to click the 'follow' button and share it with your friends. Also, all comments are welcome!**

The Fastest Phone in the West

2009-09-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

I've started noticing a pattern.

I call home.

Rachael answers.

Rachael hangs up on me.

Now, I don't consider myself to be an overly sensitive type. But after my wife hangs up on me almost every time I call home, even I start to wonder if she's mad at me. She swears she's not.

So now I'm left to wonder if she really is NOT mad, or if this falls into the large chasm of comments that wives make, waiting to see if their husbands will know they mean just the opposite:

"No, honey, I don't mind if you work late again."

"Nothing's wrong."

"I'm fine."

"Of course it doesn't bother me that your secretary is gorgeous."

Now, I do have to be fair here. Rachael is usually pretty good about telling me what she truly thinks or feels. So, after considering, I had to conclude that she really wasn't mad at me.

So, the question is, Why then is she hanging up on me?

If she's not angry, maybe she's just being rude. The kids can get a little loud at times. Maybe the crescendo increases right as she answers the phone, she can't hear anyway, so she just hangs up on the unsuspecting caller.

Rachael is typically not rude, but I had to be sure. I put this theory to the test. The next time I called and she hung up on me, I paid close attention. There was no loud shouting or whining or playing from the kids.

What then could it be?

I thought about her favorite retreat. Maybe she takes a much-needed trip to Rachael Zone Land right as I call. I would discount this idea outright, if it were not for the incessant zones I see her slip into. I mean, it is possible. Maybe she answers the phone right as she's taking the first imaginary step into the zone. As the phone rises to her mouth and she says 'hello', she lifts the second foot and moves on in. At that point, real life disappears instantly. Without realizing it, she has dropped the phone, and it hangs up.

I knew the only way I could test this theory out was to watch when she answered the phone on others. This was when I got much closer to finding the answer.

One night, the phone rang. I sat back expectantly, waiting and watching.

Rachael answered.

"Hello?"

I don't think she had fully pronounced the question mark yet, when she was already hanging up the phone.

I said, "Who's that?"

"I don't know, some telemarketer."

"How do you know?"

"Well, when they don't say anything right away, I know the computer is calling and in the process of clicking me over to a live person. When that happens, I just hang up right away."

Ah ha!

So, I tested out the newly formed hypothesis. The next time I called, it went a little something like this:

"Hel"

"Hi, hon. How's it going?"

"Fine."

Of course, now she probably thinks that I'm the rude one, but what can one do. Besides, when it seemed like she might be upset, I asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing."

Of course, I'm not totally sure if 'nothing' means 'nothing' or 'something' or even 'everything', but I have to assume I'm OK.

Because she still takes my calls. And she never hangs up on me.

So, if you ever need to call Rachael on our home number, be sure your words are ready.

The race is on and Rachael can hang up quicker than most people can say 'hello'.

**If you liked this, be sure to click the 'follow' button and share it with your friends. Also, all comments are welcome!**

A Labor Of Love

2009-09-08T21:09:00.000-07:00

Labor Day Weekend.

Everyone looks forward to it. The 3 days off. The resting. The traveling. The fun times with friends.

This Labor Day, our plans were to spend the weekend with some of our best friends. We had planned on leaving Friday right after work.

These plans had been in place for months.

It's important to realize that when you live Life With Rachael, plans are not necessarily made of concrete. They consist more of fluid that runs through your fingers each time you try to grasp them.

My first sign of trouble was Thursday evening. When I found out that Rachael had not yet made plans regarding who was going to feed our two dogs, Rhett and Scarlett, and our guinea pig, Sugar. I also had been waiting on her to type up a letter for a hopeful loan modification. I had typed mine up and sent it, but the bank was demanding one from Rachael as well. I had reminded her several times and Friday was the deadline.

We'll suffice it to say that when we went to bed Thursday night, the letter had not progressed beyond a blank sheet of paper.

My next sign of trouble was when I could not reach Rachael on her cell phone. On Friday, I tried to call her a few times during the day to see how she was coming along. I was unable to reach her. When I finally talked to her later that day, I asked her if she had heard my message.

"Ummm, no."

I could tell something was up. I asked her about her cell phone. She told me that she did not know where it was, but knew it had to be somewhere. Now, I am not really an expert on these things, but I figured she had to be right. The only other alternative was that it was nowhere, which hardly seemed possible, given the known laws of the universe. That being said, I wasn't quite sure how that was going to help us. The fact that the phone was somewhere did not seem to get us any closer to it's true location. As I'm writing this Tuesday night, it has still not been found.

For those of you who may not know, this is the new cell phone that Rachael loves so much.

...............The one she got less than a month ago to replace the last one she lost.

Anyway, I know it's somewhere.

You know how most of the financial advisors always tell you that the cell phone insurance is usually a waste of money? That you should not spend the money on it, as you will most likely not ever need it? That the plans charge so much money, it's just not worth it?

I'm thinking they have not yet had the immense pleasure of reading Life With Rachael or Rachael's blog, My Poor Husband. If they would have, they'd probably have a Rachael Clause. 'We can not be responsible for wind, fire, hurricanes, or other acts of God or Rachael. Forgetting, misplacing, poorly managing, or otherwise misappropriating your cell phone will not be the responsibility of this firm. All other incidents of damage will be replaced and/or repaired at the sole discretion of the cell phone company, to whom you signed over your life when you signed the two-year contract.'

However, until the cell phone companies enact the Rachael clause, I am starting to think that Rachael is the one person this side of the Rocky Mountains that may actually benefit by having cell phone insurance. Once the Rachael clause is enacted, I'm guessing that cell phone insurance rates may very well be cut in half.

Friday afternoon, I received a phone call from one of the friends we were going to be staying with. He asked when I thought we'd be there. I told him what I thought, but added the Rachael disclaimer, which basically compensates for the unexpected delays, slight setbacks, and the 1-3 trips back into the house to get some forgotten item.

When we finally were on the road, we began to realize that even though we'd had several extra trips back into the house, there were still a number of forgotten items.

1. Rachael's Cell phone- Already mentioned.
2. Rachael's Hair Dryer
3. Someone to feed the pets. This actually did not get accomplished until a little after 3 PM on Saturday. Which was fortunate, considering they needed to be fed Saturday evening.
4. Rachael's church clothes.
5. Rachael's swim suit.
6. Rachael's hairbrush.
7. Rachael's shoes.
8. Eyedrops and medicine in case the kids get sick.
9. Rachael's makeup.

Now, if I didn't know Rachael as well as I do, I might listen to the argument that 'forgetting' could be a plan enacted to allow the purchasing of new shoes, swimsuits, hairbrushes, etc.

I'm pretty sure that is not the case.

Rachael and I are a bit different in the planning department. Recognizing that we were going to be leaving, I made sure to set things up to have a smooth and successful trip. I filled the truck up with gas so we wouldn't have to worry about stopping. I took some money out, so we wouldn't be caught unprepared. I planned my time to allow for packing. I counted out the exact number of pairs of socks I'd need. I calculated the exact number of gallons of gas we were likely to burn. OK, that last one is not true, but the rest is.

As you can probably guess by now, Rachael's plans are often a bit simpler.

1. I'm here.
2. Let's go.
3. I forgot ______________ (fill in the blank).
4. Evaluate distance from home. If closer than 10 miles, turn around. If further, buy new once we get there, if possible.
5. Put up with husband's irritation and/or anger.

As any married couple can tell you, opposites often attract. And then marry. And then drive each other crazy.

But maybe, just maybe, through it all they can learn a little from each other and grow to be better people because of their mate.

I know that is true with Rachael and me. She often does drive me crazy. She forgets frequently. She often allows distractions to interfere with her family and our plans. Sometimes she seems to live in her zone more than in reality.

But, on the plus side, she tackles each new task with big, exciting plans. When she's excited about something she'll talk about it with wide-eyed wonder. Her eyes literally sparkle with enthusiasm. She teaches me how to look at things through eyes that see more than just the facts.

In a word, she supplies the missing parts to who I am. I am hopeful I do the same for her.

Now that's not to say that we aren't going to get on each other's nerves at times. We will. Like the next time we leave for a family trip. Or she forgets her cell phone. Or I get so stuck on the details of the plan that I can not share her considerable excitement. Or I stifle her creativity.

But we will also be there for each other. Will hopefully complete each other. Will hopefully never close our eyes to what attracted us to each other in the first place.

The fact that we are so very different.

And that's OK.

Most of the time.

Now we just have to call to be sure her cell phone hasn't racked up 2500 minutes calling to Mexico in the past 5 days.

**If you liked this, be sure to click the 'follow' button and share it with your friends. Also, all comments are welcome!**

Good Morning!

2009-09-08T07:15:00.000-07:00

Happy Day after Labor Day to each of you!

For those of you new to this blog or coming from Stuff Christians Like, be sure to start with this post. It deals with The Faith of a Child and will touch your heart. Then check out the rest of the posts and be sure to click the 'follow' tab if you like them.

For everyone else, Have A Great Day.

New Post Tomorrow!

-The Poor Husband

What's In An Ad?

2009-09-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

While viewing Rachael's blog the other day, I was quite impressed with the variety of the ads found on her pages. I actually think that blog ads could be a fast, effective means of getting to know a person. In fact, there are probably many great uses!

-Employers can make quick decisions regarding hiring prospective employees.
-Potential dating partners can evaluate their future dates.
-Friends can laugh at each other.

With that being said, I decided to take a closer look at Rachael's ads. I figured this would give me a chance to get to know my beloved a little better. I'm looking forward to making a deeper connection with my soulmate. To start, I took a small sampling off of a few of her posts. I'll try to post a follow-up sometime in the future.

The ads are in italics, with my comments after each one.

Stop Migraine Headaches
You probably haven't heard about the best treatment available
http://www.theheadacheremedy.com/

OK, so I'm thinking that this ad was put on there in deference to her Poor Husband, knowing I'd probably need some help.

Stop Fuel Theft
Diesel & Gas Pump Alarm Systems Millions $ saved since 2006
www.flintloc.com

Well, she didn't actually steal the fuel, but I'm thinking the Gas Pump Alarm System may come in handy. I can picture it now, Rachael starts to drive away, hose still attached to her car, the Gas Pump Alarm System is activated. A shrill shriek or a shrieky shrill immediately goes off, revolving lights turn on, mechanical arms shut off the only exits from the station and Rachael can not force the poor gas station guy to chase her down anymore.

Gas Pumps
Find it here. Bargains & Savings on Gas Pumps
ivyblue.com

In case the entire pump needs replaced. Or, I'm sure they have parts. They'd probably even sell a gas station owner a new hose for $442 or so.

Prepare to be Shocked
Millions have already taken this amazing test. What's your RealAge?
RealAge.com

OK, so I think this pretty much fits every post. Not the age part, but the Prepare to be Shocked. The ad men and women knew they could not leave this ad off of My Poor Husband.

Tree Service Estimates
Any Job: Trim, Remove or Plant. Get Free Estimates Today!
www.ServiceMagic.com

I'm thinking this is the solution to the apple tree that reached down and attacked the top of Rachael's car. Instead of looking for another spot and parking where a tree does not already exist, we'll just remove the tree. Problem Solved!

Park My Car
Find more sources/options for Park My Car
webcrawler.com/park_my_car

For those that seem to have a hard time parking their car. Hmmm, I can't really think of anyone. Can you?

Locked Keys In Car
Find the absolute lowest prices on locked keys in car.
http://www.shoppersource.com/

Well, of course Rachael would never actually do this, but if it ever happens, at least she'll know where to call.

Flushing Car Keys
Call Us For Lock Installation And Key Copying. Free Estimates.
AbcoLocks.net

I'm guessing that this is for when you are so tired of losing your keys, you just decide to flush them down the toilet and take care of the problem once and for all. That way, you'll always know right where they are!

Car Locksmith
Search multiple engines at once for car locksmith
www.webcrawler.com
Car Key Spare
Find Low Prices On Car Key Spare. Compare Products, Prices & Stores.
shopping.yahoo.com

Hmmm, is it just me or does there seem to be a bunch of these 'lose your key' ads on Rachael's site?

Women No Bra

Find more sources/options for what your looking for

webcrawler.com/women

So, I'm just thinking that I'm glad this one showed up on Rachael's blog and not mine. I'm afraid I might not be able to explain it if it was on mine.

Girls With No Underwear
Find great deals and save! Compare products, prices & stores

http://www.shopping.com/

Ummm, yeah. So, enough said.

Life With Rachael as a Worship Leader

2009-09-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

My Life With Rachael is blessed whenever she leads music at our church.

Everyone that has ever attended more than one church in their life knows that the music service can vary greatly from one church to the next. Some churches do nothing but hymns. Some love praise and worship music. Some love Southern Gospel. Some think there's nothing better than Elvis's 'You Saw Me Crying In The Chapel'.

Now to be honest, I love all of the above.

As a matter of fact, my personal favorite is to have a nice mix of many different types of songs. I prefer a music-worship service that is more 'theme-based' than 'style-of-music based'. So, if the message is on Christ dying on the cross, you'd have 'The Old Rugged Cross' and 'Amazing Love' in the same service. That's just me. Your views are probably different.

In an age where churches struggle so hard to be 'relevant', some interesting things sometimes happen. Here's a worship service that somehow manages to denigrate God, the 80's, and 'relevancy' in churches, all at the same time. If you can handle it, try to make it to the end!

And, of course, to illustrate just how much music styles do change, we can't forget 'Jesus Is My Friend' by Sonseed. Ahhh, the 70's!

Whatever the style of worship, I think we need to remember the most important thing: Does it glorify Him or me? Is it to lead others to Him or to me?

Why do we do what we do?

One of the things that Life With Rachael has taught me is how to always search for the answers, to try to not be afraid of the questions, and to attempt to live by faith each day.

And the music?

Well, that's just a bonus. I am eternally thankful that God blessed me by allowing me to live Life With Rachael. I love her piano playing. I love her singing. I love her sweetness. I love her.

And, yeah, I love her worship services.

**If you liked this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab and keep up-to-date with this blog. I hope you enjoy it every day!**

I'm Now On Twitter

2009-09-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Never miss out on a blog post again! I know, I know, you've been waiting for this day. Anyway, follow me on twitter!

Not the Best Western

2009-09-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

As most of you know by now, I recently had several heart tests, culminating in an angiogram which turned out clear. The angiogram was scheduled for Monday morning at 6AM in Fremont, CA, which is about an hour and a half from our home.

Rachael and I calculated drive time, getting ready time, etc and found out we'd have to get up around 3:15AM to get there on time.

Instead, we opted to go up the night before and stay the night there. We decided to stay in the same Best Western that Rachael had previously taken out her pent up hostilities and suppressed violent urges on. The one that we'd had to pay $140 to in order for them to replace the door Rachael kicked in. (For the full story, click on this link.)

As we were preparing to enter the Best Western, I asked Rachael if she thought they would remember her. While she was not sure, she certainly remembered the person she'd previously dealt with.

"That's him!"

"That's who?"

"That's the guy that I talked to when I checked in."

"The same guy? Are you sure?"

She was sure. We walked up to the front counter. While not exceptionally friendly, he went through the motions of checking us in. When he came to the question, 'Have you stayed with us before?' I thought I'd try to bring some humor into the situation. I figured he'd know soon enough that Mrs. Karate Kid was back- surely her name would be noted in their system. I tried my best to mitigate the damage that had been done.

"Yeah, you might remember her from a month or two ago. She was the one that kicked in one of your doors!"

No verbal response.

But the body language said it all. He visibly tensed and suddenly found that the computer screen was so very interesting that he didn't need to even look at us.

I'm not sure why he took it so personally, but he seemed to really NOT care for us. Rachael assures me that he was very friendly and had a great smile when she checked in the first time.

I would not know.

I never saw the smile.

He does, however, have a great scowl. And ability to ignore the pesky things in life. Like Life With Rachael.

I should have given him both of our blog addresses. After reading them, he'd at least know he was in good company. Maybe he could contact the manager of Chevron and they could start a support group or something.

"Hi, my name is ____________ and I have crossed the path of Life With Rachael."

"Hi ____________! We're all here for you!"

At the time, however, he did not seem to be in the mood for any more frivolity from Rachael or me. In fact, once we walked out the door, which he ensured happened fairly quickly, I think he called up the manager and said in his best impersonation of the little girl from Poltergeist:

"She's Back!"

**If you like this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab to keep current on future posts. I hope you enjoy! -The Poor Husband**

Impossible Situations

2009-09-01T20:36:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you have figured out by now that Life With Rachael is filled with impossible situations that don't happen to most people. Somehow, Rachael finds her way into them, but even more remarkable, she finds her way back out of them. If you've not yet done so, you'll have to check out the other posts here to see what I'm talking about. Also, be sure to check out her blog, My Poor Husband.

Today, I ran across a little cartoon character that reminded me of Rachael and her impossible situations. I thought you'd enjoy it.

In fact, I think we could have a little fun with it. Help me out here. What other situations would this farmer find himself in, if he lived Life With Rachael?

Just a couple off the top of my head:

1. Takes his tractor out behind the barn to wash it off. Misses the road entirely, and ends up in a ditch. (Otherwise known as Rachael and the car wash.)
2. Starts a bon-fire to roast hot dogs and leaves it completely unattended. When he goes to put it out, finds himself bald, as all hair is gone. (Rachael and the 650 degree BBQ.)

OK, your turn. I really think that Rachael and the farmer may be kindred souls. Any other ideas?

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Vindication! Oh, yeah, Baby!

2009-08-31T22:45:00.000-07:00

I remember the day we bought our Brand New 2006 Honda Accord to this day. We had searched for a slightly used car, but Hondas maintain their value so well that we found better value in buying a new one. This was going to be Rachael's car and we decided to get the nice one. EX, with leather, sunroof, heated seats, etc.

Of course, we made the nieve statement that all people do when buying a new car.

"It's going to look just like this for as long as we own it!"

C'mon, am I the only one to ever make such a ludicrous statement?

Anyway, the car became even more Rachael's than I'd first counted on. In fact, 3 or 4 months may sometimes go by between times I'm even in the car. I always anticipate the look on Rachael's face when I mention we may have to take her Honda somewhere.

"You mean.... you're going to get in my car?"

As soon as she realizes I am, she usually always rushes out the front door with two trash bags to clear an extra spot for me. This involves removing approximately 33 pounds of papers, boxes, and assorted other items Rachael can not live without having within arms reach while driving.

About once every few weeks, Rachael loses her keys. Now, they usually turn up, but even more consistent is the conversation that ensues.

"Haven't you found your spare key yet?"

"There never was a spare key."

"Hon, I know there was a spare key, because I specifically remember them giving us both of them."

"There never was a spare key!" Now a little more insistent.

Of course, it's hard to win that argument.

Until today.

Today, Pastor Ken became one of my favorite people in the whole wide world. Rachael had a flat tire, he helped her change it, and she found her spare key inside the owner's manual which was inside the glove box.

Now, seeing as how it's been in the glove box for 4 years now, I know most of you are probably wondering why she hasn't found it before now. To answer that, you'd have to realize that Rachael's glove box and Rachael's trunk are quite similar and I didn't even know there WAS a bottom to Rachael's trunk. Hidden in the midst of all the other glove-box treasures was the spare key the dealership never gave us.

OK, OK, I know I shouldn't want to say 'neener, neener' but there's still a part of me that feels the urge.

I wonder if I called it Righteous Vindication if it would make it sound any better? Kind of like Righteous Anger?

For Rachael's side of the story, be sure to check out her post here.

Shadrach, Meshach, and the Tri-Tip Roast

2009-08-31T06:00:00.000-07:00

I made a decision the other day.

Because Life With Rachael is so often filled with completely unexpected turns of events, I decided to wear my small digital camera attached to my belt at all times. Recently, on several occasions, I have wished for it, but to no avail. What happened Friday night solidified my decision even more.

From now on, I will not be without my camera.

I had actually made this decision on Thursday afternoon. I wore my camera in to work Friday, had it on all day, never took it off.

Until I got home. And then I made my mistake. I figured that we were all home, we were just going to eat dinner and play a game of Life with my kids and dad. I mean, what could happen?

Unfortunately, I left the camera on my dresser in my bedroom.

And when you really need it, and it's not there, it's either too late to get it, or you don't think of it.

My dad came over because this is the last time we will see him for a long time. I had went to pick him up and we got home as Rachael was getting dinner together.

I went into my bedroom, got out of my nice 'office clothes', put on some shorts and a T-shirt, and came back into the living room. At that point, I smelled the unmistakeable odor of burning meat. Apparently, Rachael was BBQ'ing the Tri-Tip on my grill.

I went outside to check on it.

I looked down at the thermometer.

It said it was 650 degrees inside the BBQ. Now, I didn't even know my BBQ would GET to 650 degrees. Now, I know. Unfortunately, by the time I got my camera, the temperature had decreased into the normal range.

I was immediately concerned with the safety ramifications of having a chunk of metal rivaling the core temperature of the sun emanating heat to the side of the house, just 8 inches away.

I felt the handles of the grill. While hot enough to burn if held too long, I wanted to relieve the intense heat as soon as possible. I felt for the least blistering portion of the handle and began to lift.

Now in the Bible story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the three of them are cast into a fiery furnace heated seven times it's normal temperature. I'm thinking this was around the same temperature as my BBQ, 650 degrees. When the kings helpers threw the 3 men into the furnace, the heat from the fire was so intense that it killed them. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were unscathed and unscorched. The Bible says that the smell of fire was not even on them.

Our Tri-Tip, and my arm hairs were not so fortunate.

I don't think God had as big of a vested interest in my arm hairs as he did in preserving the lives of three of his faithful followers.

The lid came up in one smooth, fluid motion.

The escaping air was so hot as to be unbearable.

The heat alone was enough to singe my arm hairs. No flame reached my arm. But all the hairs on the side of my arm from my wrist almost to my elbow were definitely well-done.

Ahh, there's nothing like the smell of burned arm-hairs.

Rachael had decided to cook the Tri-Tip, wrapped in aluminum.

Did you know that aluminum actually begins to flake and come apart in temperatures exceeding 600 degrees? I did not either. I have realized that there are so many things I might never know in life if I was not blessed to live my Life With Rachael.

We opened/broke up the aluminum foil and surveyed the damage inside. The Tri-Tips were charred significantly on the outside, but still uncooked inside. We put them back on the BBQ.

By this time, the BBQ was off. I went to relight it. My grill has three different areas to light and cook on, each controlled and regulated by it's own knob you turn. The first one worked fine. The second one was stuck, but eventually turned, allowing the gas to flow. The third one appeared to be welded, or melted solid.

We cooked on 2/3 of the grill.

When the meat was done, we brought it in, and began the process of removing the charred sections. All in all, the meat was not great, but it was not terrible.

We had a nice meal, played Life with the kids, and went to bed.

Saturday, in the daylight, I went out to check on the grill to see if there was any previously unnoticed damage. All three knobs were working fine now. Good news!

I looked underneath, where the propane tank and the hoses are.

The propane hose was melted to the bottom of my grill.

Now, I'm fairly confident that the hoses used on BBQ's are meant to withstand a fair amount of heat. Them being used in a BBQ and all.

I don't think they've been tested at 650 degrees.

'Cause let me tell you, they will melt.

I have attached a picture for your amusement. And while I'm going to have to replace the hoses on the BBQ and try to re-grow some arm hair, you, my readers, will probably reap the benefits of seeing photos more often, as my decision to keep a camera handy at all times has decidedly been solidified with this recent adventure in my Life With Rachael.

So, I'm thinking that the next time Rachael BBQ's she had either better seek some Divine Intervention, on par with that of Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego, or we'd better keep the grill on the South side of 500.

My arm hairs can't take much more.

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Check Out My Wordle!

2009-08-30T16:39:00.000-07:00

And, if you want to see a newer Wordle, click here.

Congratulations to MatFam, the contest winner!

2009-08-30T16:21:00.000-07:00

A little over a week ago, I announced a contest with a prize of a $10 Starbucks card to the winner. The contest is now over. Congratulations to MatFam. Thanks for the feedback!
-The Poor Husband.

The Chevron Saga Continues

2009-08-29T20:51:00.000-07:00

This was probably the hottest weekend in Salinas so far this year. It was in the 90's, which is fairly remarkable for here.

So, I figured I'd celebrate by doing the yard work I have not been able to do recently. See Troubles of the Heart, if you're interested in how I've been spending my time lately.

But, I had a problem.

I needed gas for my lawn mower.

The closest and most convenient station is the now infamous Chevron where Rachael enjoy ed playing her friendly games of 'Red Rover! Red Rover! Send the gas hose right over!' with the owner.

Fortunately, the owner and employees have never seen Rachael and I together.

So I can still show my face there without turning red.

While I was pumping, I noticed something new on the gas pumps.

A little sign was now attached.

A sign that did not used to be there. A brand new sign. It caught my attention, so I looked in closer to see what it said.

It was a warning to drivers that they will be charged for damages if they drive off without removing the gas hose from their car.

Interestingly enough, we've lived here for 5 1/2 years, and this sign was never there before.

Until the Rachael incident.

I like to think of this new sign as The Rachael Sign.

I pointed it out to her and thought of the comedian.

"Here's your sign!"

That is fitting in so many ways, don't you think?

*Be sure to check out my wife's blog, My Poor Husband for her comments on this.*

Troubles of the Heart, Part 5

2009-08-28T06:00:00.001-07:00

***Note- don't start here, unless you've read the first 4 posts. Here's a link to the first part.***

The big day had finally arrived.

The alarm clock told me it was time to get up when 5:15 appeared.

We got to the hospital at 6AM. We filled out all the paperwork. I was admitted and in a hospital bed by around 6:30. My blood was drawn.

I was told my procedure was scheduled for 11 AM.

Which meant I had around 4 hours to just sit there. Rachael had brought some discourse on communicating with God that had been written in the 1600's by some monk named Brother Lawrence. She began reading to me. It was actually fairly good.

I think the person in the other bed thought we were praying or chanting or something, because I heard him tell his friends that he'd went to church yesterday to make sure everything was fine, just in case he didn't make it through the day.

I then read a portion of The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. I only finished a couple of chapters but it's shaping up to be a good read. I really love C.S. Lewis. While he's most famous for his Chronicles of Narnia series, he has written some of the best apologetic works on Christianity that one could hope to read.

Before I know it, and quite a bit earlier than my scheduled 11 AM appointment with the nurse that is sure to see me naked, I'm being given Valium and Benadryl.

Things are about to get fun.

I am wheeled down to the 'operating room'. Apparently, there's been a confusion of the schedule, because they're not ready for me. But, they don't want to send me back to the 3rd floor of the hospital, so I'm wheeled over to an unused corner of the hallway, just outside the doors to the monitoring room. This room is filled with people watching monitors of what is happening in the 'operating room'.

While parked just outside the room, I hear an unusual, and somewhat disconcerting conversation.

"Yeah, we've had 2 or 3 already cancel today."

"Really! I didn't think that many people would even read the newspaper."

While this helps explain why I got in so much earlier, it does make you think. I never did figure out what they were talking about, but my Valium-affected thoughts figured there must have been a mishap with a fellow Angiogram victim in the preceding days.

But, hey, according to the law of averages, that just means mine has a better chance of going great!

While laying in the hallway with nothing but a hospital gown on, a nurse comes by. She tells me that the entire gown will have to be removed. Evidentally because hospital gowns are best-known for how well they cover you. Before I know it, I'm lying naked under a blanket that several people seem to have a need to pull up just to make sure everything's ready.

In anticipation of this moment, I made sure to shave, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of needing any help in this area.

But, as I had once before discovered when I had my vasectomy, the shaving had to be repeated.

And, of course, it's completed by a female nurse.

I'd say 'Good Times!' here, trying to be sarcastic, but I wouldn't want anyone to possibly get the wrong idea. The times we were having were anything but good.

But the best was just around the corner.

Dr. Ash Jain walked in the room. Shortly before he arrived, I was once again told what a great doctor he is. I truly am thankful that he is the one to do my procedure.

As is his manner, he gets right to work. One of the things I have grown to like and admire about him is that he gets right down to business, but seems to always explain what is going on and what I will be feeling and usually asks if I have any questions.

The only question I have at this point is how soon this will all be over.

And, of course, The BIG Question.

"Do I have buildup/plaque/blockage in my arteries?"

The deadening shot is delivered to my groin area. While this hurt a bit, it was not too bad. Next came the incision. The incision is made into the large artery you find in your groin area. Once an entrance hole is available, a catheter is pushed into the vein and then all the way up the area right below your heart.

This catheter is used as a vehicle to deliver the iodine solution dye that will then be used by the machine to look at the inside of my arteries.

As the catheter tube made its way to the bottom part of my heart, it caused my heart to beat somewhat erratically at times. I was concerned at first, but Dr. Jain told me this was completely normal.

What happened next felt anything but normal.

Dr. Jain told me that he was ready to administer the dye. This is released directly below the heart and then moves immediately into the heart and then back out. He told me that I'd feel a warm, flushing feeling in my chest.

I did indeed!

Have you ever went out sledding or playing in the snow and spent so long there that your body was chilled all over? You have breathed so much ice-cold air, that it feels like your insides are frozen?

And then you take a drink of steaming hot chocolate? You know how you can feel it burn all the way down?

Well, multiply that feeling so that you are picturing it happening to your entire chest, and that's kind of what this felt like. Kind of, but not exact.

The warm sensation comes on fast, from the bottom of your heart, into the heart, and then out again. It is actually over quite quickly, but is quite the experience while it is happening.

Dr. Jain begins to take pictures. I can actually see the inside of a portion of my artery on the monitor. It looks good to me, but this is the first time I've ever seen the inside of an artery, so I don't have much of a baseline.

I do see some little squiggly piece of something going crazy inside of me. I'm trying to figure out what it is when I hear the best words I've heart in a long time.

"There's no blockage. Your arteries are completely clear. The only thing we'll have to work on from here out is just the electrical system in your heart."

I don't think I quite realized how much I'd been stressing about this, until I knew everything was OK. Rachael was brought in, and she said that she had not seen my face look so free from worry for a couple of months now.

I was thrilled.

I spent the next few hours in my hospital bed. They have to ensure you will not start bleeding through the incision as you could bleed to death fairly quickly since it's in such a large artery.

I was discharged around 3 PM and got home that evening. I spent that night and the next day with my leg in a straight position as much as possible.

I went back to see Dr. Jain for a follow-up appointment August 26th. After looking at everything, he once again assured me that all was well. He said I could go back to normal activities and that he didn't need to see me for another 3 months, and that was just for a routing follow-up visit.

And so ends my Troubles of the Heart. I praise God for His watch-care, your thoughts and prayers, and for putting me in the hands of a very capable doctor!

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Troubles of the Heart, Part 4

2009-08-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

In the previous 3 posts, I described my heart arrhythmia, my hospital stay, Rachael's kung-fu prowess, and some amazing friends. If you haven't read those posts, you'll want to start on part 1 and work your way here.

After getting out of the hospital and spending Father's Day at Denny's with my wonderful friends, I thought many times in the next few weeks about what incredible friends I truly do have.

Meanwhile, my follow-up appointment was getting ever closer. Doctor Ash Jain had scheduled me to come in and take an echo-cardiogram, stress test, EKG. Kind of a 3 for 1 package. While we knew I had some issues with the electrical system in my heart, Dr. Jain wanted to be sure there were no other problems.

After some nervous anticipation, the big day arrived.

I was a little concerned, and not just about the results. I was also afraid I'd have to take my shirt off in public.

One should always remember to just check their modesty in at the door when visiting the doctor. I try to do that, but normally fail.

I should mention that I am not a guy that feels comfortable walking around with no shirt on. I'm one of those weirdos that even wears their shirt while swimming. This has been true ever since I gained more weight than I am comfortable displaying sans shirt. I don't think anyone other than my immediate family has seen me without a shirt in the last 5-10 years, or so.

Until this day.

The nurse comes in and tells me I'll need to take off my outer shirt and T-shirt. I was halfway expecting this, but still was not happy.

I became less so very shortly.

The nurse came in and told me we needed to go into another office. I guess they keep rooms segregated according to purpose, I don't know. Here we have the disrobing room, that one is the Waiting Nervously for Results Room, here's the Questions for the Doctor Room, and that room on the end with the padlock across it is the You Might Get To Regain Some of Your Pride and Dignity Room. Judging by the padlock, it didn't look like many people entered that one.

We were apparently going to leave The Disrobing Room, in search of The Treadmill Room.

She opens the door to an open (and empty) hallway. So far, so good. I'm thinking we're just going to sneak in unnoticed into one of the doors leading off of this hallway, the one right before the one with the padlocks.

Not a chance.

She leads me clear down the hallway. "Oh, hi there good-looking nurse. I'm sure glad you're the first one to see my bare belly."

I think when you see someone that has obviously attempted to stay in shape, it makes you even more conscious of your own lack of doing so.

We continue down the hallway. Before I know it, we are walking through the backside of the waiting room where approximately 2000 people are sitting. I am pretty sure every one of them stood up just to get a better view of the bare belly walking through the back of the office.

We then go out into a PUBLIC hallway that connects this office with another one. I'm still walking with no shirt on. I walk by many people. Many being defined by at least 4. We finally get to The Treadmill Room and I try to duck in as soon as I can, only to be confronted with the fact that I am now alone in the room, with my shirt off, with 3 women. Not one. Not two. Three.

Ahh, but it gets better.

The reason there are three women in the room is because one has to monitor the equipment. Typically, the other nurse attaches the electrodes to approximately 48 locations on your chest and belly. Not today.

Today, (lucky me) the 3rd nurse is in training. What this means to me is that she puts one on wrong, the other nurse has to look at it, it has to be pulled off, and then redone. Additionally, when the Nurse-In-Training is completely finished, the training nurse has to step over and they both scrutinize every square inch of my upper body. Oh, the joy!

It's finally time to get on the treadmill. Weirdly enough, I'm actually looking forward to it, just so I won't be under such close scrutiny.

I ask if I can wear my shirt while on the treadmill.

Stupid question.

I begin.

Within about 30 seconds the nurse over on the equipment makes her first observation. While she says this in a totally detached nurse voice, it still doesn't make me feel better.

"Guess you don't work out much, huh?"

"No, I have to sit behind a desk all day, and only have time to walk about a half hour each night after work."

"Yeah, well you really should make it a point to find a way to work out more."

I tried to answer, but by this time I was breathing so hard I couldn't talk much more if I even wanted to hope to persevere on the test.

The treadmill I was on would increase the incline and the speed every minute or so. Within no time, I was jogging.

Until the nurse on the controls came over and told me that I really didn't need to jog, as it was still on walking speed.

"Oh."

About this time, I could see the other two nurses talking quietly. I'm not sure, but I think they were making bets concerning whether my heart or lungs would explode first.

The nurse on the gadgets saved either of them from having to pay up. By this time, my heart rate was around 130 or so and my blood pressure was over 200.

She told me I could go lay down on the bed.

Now, when you get an echo-cardiogram EKG stress test, you are being monitored the entire time, while exercising. However, as soon as you're done exercising, they want to use the echo-cardiogram machine to look at pictures of your heart, kind of like an ultra-sound for a pregnant lady.

To accomplish this, you have to run from the treadmill to the bed.

I did as requested.

She looked at my heart rhythms and told me that my heart was beating irregularly again. However, she said that is not too unusual with the exercise I'd just completed. I told her about the irregular beating that had originally brought me in and how I'd went 28 hours in that condition before it converted back to a normal pattern.

"Well, you were lucky. Most people that happens to never convert."

"Really? What do they do?"

"We can usually give them medication to keep their heart rate down, but they learn to live with it, many of them for the rest of their life."

I thought that was the bad news.

Fortunately, my heart began beating normally again. I received the even worse news after I got dressed and went down to talk to my Doctor, who'd already had a chance to look at the results and was in The Waiting Nervously For Results Room.

"We've got a potential problem here. The one test came out fine, but the one that's typically the most reliable shows evidence that you may have blockage in your arteries. I'm going to have to schedule you an angiogram."

"That sounds like fun."

"It is, but we have to do it."

In all honesty, I had no idea what an angiogram was. I knew 'angio' had to do with the heart, and 'gram' had to do with conveying a message (like telegram), so I figured it would be something that they used to take a picture of my heart.

It was.

But it was a little more involved than I originally thought it would be.

For the fifth, (and I believe the final) post on this, be sure to check back tomorrow.

Bonus Post- Rachael's Pet Peeves

2009-08-27T20:51:00.001-07:00

So, I'm sitting beside Rachael on the couch tonight, working on my new blog which will rate customer service at various local businesses. I will be evaluating at least one good and one bad business each week.

Anyway, Rachael keeps acting very strange. Now, regular readers of My Poor Husband or Life With Rachael know that Rachael acting a little strange sometimes is not necessarily a novel thing, but tonight was particularly interesting.

She kept shaking her head, saying 'Uuuuuuuoo!", sticking out her tongue, and cringing, all at the same time.

After about the 10th time of this, I thought she was preparing to have a seizure or something. I asked her what was wrong.

She told me she was thinking about people licking napkins.

I know, I know, we all sit around thinking about people licking napkins.

Nothing weird there.

Apparently she is writing a blog post about her pet peeves. One of which happens to be when she sees someone lick a napkin. In actuality, they don't even have to lick the napkin, as long as the napkin is in close proximity to the mouth. Which sometimes happens. It being a napkin and all.

Anyway, when she sees this happen, she says it's similar to the feeling you get when someone scrapes their fingernails on the chalkboard. (Does this even happen anymore? Do schools even have chalkboards?)

So, every time Rachael writes about this, she apparently relives the sensation.

It's actually quite funny to see, and I knew you'd want to hear about it.

As a bonus, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a napkin, licked it for Rachael to see, and took a picture of her reaction. Enjoy!

Faithfully yours,
The Poor Husband.

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Troubles of the Heart, Part 3

2009-08-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

If you have not yet read parts 1 and 2, please do so now.

After being forced to substitute the attention of the heart monitor for that of Rachael, I slept fitfully at best. Several times during the night, I'd wake up with my heart tapping me awake. Or at least that's how it felt. I could physically feel it beating wildly inside my chest every time it went into arrhythmia. At times, it felt like it would explode.

I found out that the reason I'd felt light-headed during these times was that the heart was beating so fast, it was forced to beat shallow beats. Therefore, the blood was never carrying enough oxygen to the body and brain and without enough oxygen, the brain decides to take a nap. Fortunately, I had not actually passed out, especially while driving.

When I awoke, I felt like I had not had hardly any sleep at all. However, I was greeted with the best news of the last couple of days!

My heart had regained a normal rhythm.

Whether due to the medication, lots of prayers, the body's natural desire to stay true to what's 'right', or a combination of the three, my heart was now beating a normal beat. While walking to the beat of a different drum is cool for teenagers and rock stars, I was very happy to be back to 'normal'.

It was the best Father's Day present I could hope for. Although a close second was when I saw my kids a few hours later.

Rachael showed up at the hospital bearing gifts, kids, cards, and a story. It's one of those stories, like many on My Poor Husband, that are much funnier in the retelling, than they ever are the first time you hear them.

Apparently, Rachael's emotions were a bit on edge, as can be expected. That morning, Rebecca was taking a bath at the Best Western just down the street, on the corner of Mowry and I-880. Rebecca has a habit of dipping her head completely under the water. It's just something she likes to do.

It normally does not cause any problems.

That morning was not normal.

Rachael was on edge.

Rachael was trying to get Rebecca's attention. She went to talk to her. The door was locked. She called out Rebecca's name.

Again.

And Again.

At this point, as I understand it, Rachael decided to test out her incredibly honed martial arts skills.

"Wax on! Wax off!"

Only this was not going to be a harmless wax job.

Rachael, running on pure adrenaline, put all of her weight into a Super-Kick. The kind that you see in the movies where the door flies open fast enough to knock the person down that's on the other side of the door.

Either Rachael did not read the same script the actors do, or she failed her karate lessons, because when she kicked the door with all of her might, nothing positive happened.

I say nothing positive, because while she did not help herself gain entrance, she did succeed in putting a hole in the door.

At this point, even with your head underwater, you can feel the vibrations of the room shaking. Rachael said that she heard Rebecca raise her head from the water and say in her innocent 9-year old sweet voice, "What Mom?"

She had no idea what had been going on.

But she was all right. That was the main thing.

Of course, later on, the Best Western felt that the main thing was that they got paid $140 for the door that probably cost them $50 to replace.

I found all of this out Father's Day morning, the day my heart returned to normal.

Fortunately, it did not cause my heart to go back into arrhythmia.

Rachael and the kids all came to see me. The kids had all written me notes on cards and they brought me a great Father's Day gift.

By this time, my other good friend Bryan was there. The doctor told me I'd probably be getting out around noon, so we all decided to go to Denny's for a nice Father's Day lunch.

My doctor scheduled a follow-up appointment for an echo-cardiogram, stress test, EKG. While I knew the test was sure to be fun, I had no idea what it would lead to. For that, you'll have to check out the next post.

One of the things that really hit home to me was the fact that I have a great family and great friends, and I will be eternally grateful for both. Mike and Maria and Bryan all came down from somewhere between Sacramento and Chico to be with me in my time of need. My other friend, James had also left Sacramento and was on his way when I was discharged.

On Father's Day.

With no notice.

I've heard it said that a man can consider himself fortunate if he finds one true friend in his entire lifetime. My blessing basket is truly over-flowing.

I am grateful.

Troubles of the Heart, Part 2

2009-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

If you have not read the first post, please do so before you read this one.

I had just broken the Indy 500 speed record for the fastest time ever to be placed in an Emergency Room bed after walking in off the street.

I was just starting to realize that I may have bigger problems today than whether or not I'll make it to my nephews graduation on time.

Meanwhile, my heart continues to merrily beat along in a pounding, indiscernible rhythm.

Eventually, a doctor came by and said we were waiting on some of the blood test results, and that we'd hopefully know something after I'm admitted.

The only good thing about this is that my Emergency Room visit requires less of a co-pay if I'm admitted to the hospital.

At the time, though, I didn't even think about that. I was beginning to get the idea that this was turning into, if not a BIG deal, something more than unimportant.

Soon, I was hearing words like, 'this afternoon', 'tonight', and eventually 'overnight'. While these are great words when you're making plans for a weekend with your wife, they are less than encouraging when referencing your visit at the hospital. I called Rachael and told her that I would probably not be coming home right away, and that I may have to stay overnight. I also asked her if she could work out arrangements to get my sister picked up from the graduation, as it looked like I would be incapacitated.

Rachael took care of everything. One of the things I love and appreciate most about Life With Rachael is the incredible love and devotion she has and shows. Through this all, she was my favorite nurse.

After awhile, someone came by and asked for my insurance card and had me sign all the necessary paperwork.

Shortly after, I was admitted and transferred to my own room. Or, more precisely, my own 1/2 of a room, roughly a 6 foot by 10 foot rectangle of space that is just large enough for 1/2 of a single bed, a chair, and a curtain that is difficult to close without draping it around the chair, equipment, and visitors if you have them.

After receiving my own room, I was soon hooked up to the big vital-sign-monitoring machine, as well as to a portable machine that allowed me to see my heart rate and look at the chart showing the rhythmic patterns my heart was producing. Or, in my case, the arrhythmias my heart was producing. While this was somewhat fascinating, I was staring face to face with a little screen telling me that all was not OK.

My normal heart rate is quite slow. Has been all of my life. At rest, my heart rate varies from about 48-52 beats per minute. If I walk in off the street and sit down at Long's Drugs' heart machine, it will only be around 58-62 beats a minute.

It was now beating 80-90 beats per minute. When I was completely still. When I so much as cleared my throat, or repositioned my leg, the rate shot up to 120+ per minute.

I got up to use the restroom.

I walked the 10 feet or so to the restroom that was in my room.

My heart rate was between 180 and 190 beats per minute.

Not good.

In addition to the fast pace of the heart was the fact that it was beating in its very strange anti-rhythms.

In addition to this, it would go into an actual arrhythmia every few minutes. I knew when this happened because I could feel my heart beating madly in my chest. And my monitor would say 'Arrhythmia in progress'. When it went into arrhythmia, it would go up from its now 'normal' 80 to 90 beats per minute to anywhere from 100-150 beats per minute, hover there for a minute or so, then go back to 80 or 90 beats per minute. All while I am laying perfectly still, expending no energy or movement.

After watching this several times, I got pretty good at predicting the number of beats per minute (bpm) each arrhythmia achieved.

By this time, my dad, my sister, and Rachael were there and I'd have them look at the screen while I tried to guess the bpm. I actually got pretty good at it. While I can't say it was fun, it provided some release from an otherwise difficult situation.

My heart was beating so quickly and so wildly that the vital-sign machine I was hooked up to would scream at the nurses every few seconds/minutes. This went on for a bit, and apparently there was only one solution to provide the room with some peace and quiet.

They shut off the alarms.

I soon met my heart doctor, Doctor Ash Jain. Little did I know it at the time, but it turns out that Doctor Jain is one of the best heart doctors around. I know this because every nurse or orderly that asked me who my doctor was always responded with, "Well, you're in good hands. He's the best there is!"

This happened so many times, I began to get suspicious. I figured it may be part of a new PR campaign of Washington hospital:

"OK, so every time you go into a patients room, be sure to ask them their doctor's name. When they tell you, try to remember it long enough to say, 'Oh, Wow! Doctor _________ is the best! You're in great hands'. Be sure to look genuine when you say this."

This suspicion was proven false by two means:
1. I asked them. When they told me that Dr. Jain was the best, I said, "Yeah, but I bet you say that to all the patients." They assured me that this was not true and they said it sincerely enough that I was pretty sure they were being honest with me.
2.I actually listened when the same nurses asked other patients who their doctors were. These other patients were not told the same thing I had been.

So, as it turns out, I really was in great hands. Dr. Jain is apparently one of the best at what he does. I am supremely thankful for this. I am thankful to him for doing what it took to be the best, and I am thankful to God for putting me in the right place at the right time to fall under his care.

Doctor Jain told me that I would definitely be staying the night and that I'd be on some medication to hopefully help my heart convert back to a normal rhythm. I asked him what we were going to do if it did not. He told me we'd see what happens, but for now, he wanted to try this.

By this time, in addition to my dad and Rachael, my good friends Mike and Maria and their son Brandon, were there as well. Maria had taken the time to scout out a hotel and had offered to take our kids there so that Rachael could stay the night with me, if she wanted.

This sounded like a great plan. The nurse said it would be fine.

We settled in for the night.

Unfortunately, the security guard and the head nurse had other ideas. Apparently, the head nurse was one of those people that loves to use (and abuse) the power they have. Instead of trying to find a way to help people, people like her seem to actually take pleasure out of telling people no.

I actually teach customer service classes at my work. I understand that you sometimes have to say 'no' to a customer. But you should never take joy in it. You should truly empathize with the customer and share their disappointment with them, if need be. You should not feel like a bigger man (or woman) based on how many people you were able to enforce the rules with.

After a couple of run-ins with the said security guard and an argument with the head-nurse, whose decision was apparently the final word for the security guard, Rachael was eventually banished into the cold, dark night, leaving me to spend the time alone with my arrhythmic-displaying heart monitor. While caressing my heart monitor was quite comforting, it did not really compare with having Rachael there with me.

Little did I know that Rachael was going to have her own fear-filled adventure, quite apart from the one I was having. I found out all about it the next day.

Come back again for the next section in Troubles of the Heart.

Troubles of the Heart

2009-08-25T11:35:00.000-07:00

It was the Saturday before Father's Day. My sister was here from Montana. Her son (my nephew) was graduating High School today and my sister was staying with us so she could attend. I had promised my sister that we'd go together to watch him as he graduates to the next big step of his life.

The night before, I awoke with my heart pounding. Now, I know that phrase is somewhat overused by writers to convey the message of nervous excitement, fear, dread of death, etc. But, in this case, my heart was actually pounding. It was beating in a strangely erratic manner that left me feeling quite concerned.

I, like many males, absolutely love to go to the doctor.

I felt my heart beating crazily for a few minutes and decided that if it was still going crazy in the morning, I'd have it looked at. Meanwhile, I went back to sleep.

My heart continued to pound away erratically in my chest. It woke me up numerous times during the night. Each time, I got a little more concerned than the time before, but now it was the middle of the night. I did not want to wake up Rachael and all the kids just to go to the doctor and have him tell me that it was no big deal. So, while my heart is definitely dancing to the beat of a different drum, I continue to ignore it and attempt to sleep through it.

After an incredibly fitful night of nervous sleep, my alarm clock tells me it's time to get up, get ready, and go. My heart is trying to tell me otherwise as it is still beating it's dyslexic cadence. My sister came all the way from Montana for this special day, and I do not want to let her down. Before I leave, I have Rachael put her head to my chest. There's no disguising the look of alarm that covers her face.

I tell her I'm sure everything will be fine and promise to go in to the doctor if it gets worse.

It got worse.

On the drive up to Fremont, I am forced to pull into the slow lane and start for the shoulder as I start to feel light-headed and am faced with the very real possibility of passing out.

Something you don't want to do at 65 mph.

After this happens several more times, I finally decide that this is something serious enough to go to the doctor about. I called Rachael and asked her to find the closest Urgent Care to where I was. At this point, I was still thinking that I'd go in, they'd listen and tell me it was no big deal.

It's now about 7:20AM. We had to get to the graduation early in order to ensure a seat. The graduation was scheduled to start at 9AM. I told my sister that I was going to drop her off, go get checked out, and then come right back. I asked her to save me a seat.

I drove to the address Rachael gave me and was dismayed to see that they did not open until 9AM, the same time as the graduation. I had wanted to use an Urgent Care, as they are typically much cheaper, and you usually don't have to wait as long as what you have to in a Hospital Emergency Room. As it turns out, waiting in the emergency room was not going to be a problem.

I ask Rachael to get online and look for the closest hospital that is in our network. Oh, the joys of health plans! I can't wait until we have the Obama health plan in place. That way it'll just be one huge network and we'll be able to go anywhere. And the DMV workers can trade places with the doctors so that they all have a little variety and continue to stay so cheery. And customer service is sure to increase. And the government has always been so good about running programs efficiently. Just like they do with............, well I can't think of anything. Not even CalTrans. Oh the joy!

Fortunately, I am actually quite close to a hospital, and by sheer luck or divine oversight, they are in our network. I drive over there as quickly as the traffic lights and Saturday morning drivers will allow.

I am now concerned that I am going to miss my nephew's graduation, simply because I'll still be waiting to have my DMV number called at 9AM in the Emergency Room.

Boy was I was wrong.

I walk in and the lady at the window asks me what is wrong. I let her know that my heart has been racing and beating irratically for about 8 or 9 hours now, and that I have started to feel a little light-headed. Apparently, heart issues are a big concern. She asks me to step to a small waiting section, where she has a nurse listen to my heart.

He raises his stethoscope.

And listens.

I'm watching his face to see his reaction, and am a little disconcerted at the result. He looks up and asks me if I'm able to walk. I said yes. I mean, I just drove an hour and a half from Salinas and walked all over half the hospital trying to find the Emergency Room. Of course I can walk.

"Come with me", he says somewhat urgently.

He leads me over to an open bed in the Emergency Room. He asks me to slip into a hospital gown and lie down. I do so.

By the time I am just starting to settle into position in the bed, I'm already getting an EKG.

I haven't been at the hospital 5 minutes yet.

I haven't filled out any paperwork.

They haven't even seen my insurance card yet. This, more than anything, gives me pause for concern. I know that hospitals are there to save lives and all, but usually the first thing out of their mouth is a question about insurance. In this case, they didn't even know if I had insurance or not, and I was already getting an EKG and some blood tests.

One of the nurses began to make small talk with me, asking me why I'd been dressed up so early on a Saturday morning. I explained that I'd been on my way to my nephew's graduation, but that my heart had other plans. I told her that the graduation started at 9AM and that I was still hoping to be there. It was almost 8 AM by now.

She didn't answer with her voice, but her body language told me what I was afraid of by now.

I would not be going to the graduation. In fact, I think she may have checked a new box on her check-in sheet that was situated right next to "May need psychiatric exam."

I was starting to get concerned.

Come back tomorrow for what happens next.

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The Wake-Up Call

2009-08-22T09:36:00.000-07:00

The first words I heard this morning, as I slowly drifted back from the sweet, sweet land of sleep were,

"Mom...." "Mom!" "MOM!"

This actually was repeated many more times, but if I accurately recorded exactly how many I am concerned that the size-limit google allows for their blog posts might be exceeded.

Finally, a faint whisper in return-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

A pause.

"Mom...." (pause) "Mom!" (pause) "MOM!"

The same faint whisper-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

Again, no answer. This repeated several more times. Again, I will leave it to your imagination so that I don't have to actually type it out.

Finally, after the 32nd attempt, (or at least the 5th), our son said in his sweet 1st grade voice,

"AYE-AYE-YIE" Pronounced this would be "I-I-YIE" with each successive syllable getting progressively louder. This is an expression all 3 of my kids seemed to learn in the last year or two at school, and I think all of them have taken to it somewhat, but my youngest seems to have developed a special affinity for it every time he gets frustrated.

I am thankful that God blessed Rachael with a job at a Christian school, so that our kids can attend there. So far, "AYE-AYE-YIE" rates as about as bad as the kids have brought home from their friends at school.

Trying to rest, the process began to repeat.

I didn't think I could take it much longer. Somehow, Rachael awakes just long enough to give a false hope that she's going to be able to make a decision about playing on the computer, but then instantly drifts back to sleep. I am not so lucky.

"Honey?"

"Hon?"

Rachael finally wakes up. At this point, I help Ben out and we ask her if she's ok with him playing on the computer. The answer makes him squeal with delight.

He practices his sprinting moves as he runs to the office.

I tell Rachael how many times Ben had asked. About that same time Rebecca, our eldest daughter walked in the room. She mentioned the other sleep induced response Rachael is famous for.

She said, in her newly acquired 4th grade voice, "Sometimes when we ask you a question when you're still half-asleep, the answer comes out 'ahhhhuhhhh'. It's hard to tell if that's a yes or a no. You have to listen really close. Yes sounds just a little bit different than no."

Now of course, Rachael would be back asleep by this point anyway, and would probably not even remember the question or the answer.

I'm just thankful that our kids have NEVER taken advantage of that situation. I know that if your kids are like mine, they would never, EVER take advantage of their mom's sleepy responses. Which is a good thing, because if they wanted to, they could probably get in a lot of trouble.

"Mom, can we have the keys to the Honda? We want to go joy-riding!"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Gee, thanks Mom! - Catch ya later!" Of course, the fact that my oldest daughter is only 9 might impose some natural restrictions on this one, as I'm pretty sure her feet would have a hard time reaching the pedals.

"Mom, my sisters are being mean to me. Can I hit them?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Woo-hoo- No time-out this time!"

"Mom, I'm going to go practice my knife-juggling in the kitchen, OK?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Wow- Thanks Mom! I didn't think you would let me."

After Rebecca finished talking about the indiscernibility of Rachael's 'yes' from her 'no' when she is half-asleep, she asked us if we had noticed the bagels she had brought us for breakfast. For the past few months, she has tried to make sure to bring us breakfast in bed every Saturday morning. This has resulted in messy kitchens, extra dishes, but most of all it has been an affirmation of her love for both of us. I've been quite touched by it.

"Mom, do you remember me bringing in the bagel?"
"No."
"Your eyes were open."

Ahh, the bliss of half-sleep. When you're awake enough to still feel comforted and somewhat cradled by your soft bed and comfy pillows, but not awake enough to really register what's going on around you.

The more I think about this, I can see where I have really been missing the boat. Next Saturday is going to be different.

"Hon, I'm going to go buy a new Corvette today."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"With the 401(k) money."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"OK, kids, she agreed. you stay here and take care of momma."

"Hon, I think I'll leave you to take care of the kids this whole weekend. I'm gonna go spend some time with the guys."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Hey! Thanks!"

And then get out of there before she actually wakes up.

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Contest, Anyone?

2009-08-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

So, I've been doing this blog for about 2 weeks now. Hopefully, it's been long enough for you to develop a response to it.

I'm hoping you like it.

But, it's hard to know.

While I'm still working on the mind-reading thing, mainly to communicate better with Rachael, I'm thinking I probably better not hold my breath.

So, I figured I'd just ask you.

What do you think?

I know, I know, most of you won't probably take the time to answer just because you're asked.

So, I figured I'd sweeten the pot a little.

How about if I say please?

Or beg?

OK, OK- You are a tough negotiator. I suppose that if you spend your time answering my 3 questions, you should be compensated.

I'm thinking a $10 Starbucks Card may be in order. Now if you are like me and absolutely despise the taste of coffee, I can get the same amount in a gift card from another place, if you like (and if you're the winner).

So, here's how it will work. I have 3 questions for you. If you answer all of them, I'll enter you in a drawing which will take place a week from tomorrow, with the winner announced on Saturday, August 29th, 2009. I will ask my lovely wife, Vanna, if she will be kind enough to draw the name, to ensure that all is fair. The only other rule is that Vanna can not win. Because I know what everyone would think, even if she won fair and square. No one would believe it.

The 3 questions are:

1. What 3 things that I'm currently doing would you suggest be done differently to make the blog more appealing to you?

2. What do you like about the blog?

3. What 3 ideas do you have for new content for the blog?

That's it! You're honest opinions are much appreciated. If you can think of anything else you'd like me to know, feel free.

Looking forward to Life With Rachael!

Communication

2009-08-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

"The rain in Spain, falls mainly in the plain."

I'm not sure why, but when I was thinking about this post on communication, this quote from My Fair Lady came into my head. While I believe her lessons were mainly focused on the actual pronunciation or annunciation of words, I thought it would be fun to delve into the actual act of communication.

You would think that communication would be easier now than ever. The last 25 years have seen the common-place usage of a ton of communication devices that were previously non-existent or prohibitively expensive.

And yet, as the entire world gets more 'connected' I sometimes wonder if we are drifting further apart.

Does an email or text message adequately substitute for spending quality time together? No, but that is often all we have time for.

So, I was pondering communication and how it relates to Life With Rachael. Even now, Rachael and I are sitting about 3 feet apart. Both of us are busily typing away.

Neither of us are talking.

Which is sometimes OK.

Shoot, sometimes it's probably better than OK. It's a blessing.

What made me decide to write this post was a funny incident that happened tonight. Our kids attend Pacific Coast Christian Academy, where my wife also works. School starts on Thursday, and tonight was their open house. *click on cartoon for full-size version.*

We all met in the main sanctuary of the church that hosts the school. We listened to the general information, applauded the teachers and then were dismissed to go to the classrooms.

This year is quite special for Rachael, as she gets her own music classroom. She has fixed it up very nice.

I was not sure if Rachael would be coming with me and the kids to their classroom, or if she needed to go to her music classroom. I asked her what she was going to do.

She responded, "I'm going to leave now to get down to my music classroom so I can set something up. I'll meet you there."

Now, Rachael is the one that actually works at the school. She is the one that stays more informed with what is going on there. So, when she told me to meet her in her music classroom, I did. It seemed funny to me that I wasn't going to go to the kids classrooms, but I figured she had her reasons.

So, while all the other parents were busily making their way into their kids classrooms, I took all three of our kids down to Rachael's music room.

We walked in the door.

Rachael took one look at us and said, "Why aren't you taking Ben to his classroom? You're supposed to be there."

Now, I have been an active participant in Life With Rachael long enough to realize fairly quickly when one of our conversations has evidently derailed somewhere aways back on the track. I replayed the conversation in my head. Yeah, it was as I remembered it.

So, I said, "I thought I was supposed to go to their classroom, but you told me you were going to your classroom and that you'd meet me here."

I have not yet perfected the art of mind-reading. I am working on it. I have become an amateur student of body language, which yields many clues to what a person is thinking. But I'm still not that great at the actual mind-reading.

When Rachael said she was going to her classroom and she'd meet me there, I didn't realize that 'there' in Rachael's sentence was referring to Ben's classroom, a place that had not even been mentioned in our conversation.

I simply must get better at this mind-reading stuff.

Another, somewhat related communication style of Rachael's is what I'm going to call the hyper-transition.

We went to the Salinas air show a couple of weeks ago. Prior to that we were discussing the schedule, what time it started, etc. The Hyper-Transition went something like this:

"I think the show starts around noon. I was thinking we could go get a late brunch and then head over there."

Rachael: "Sounds good."

"I don't think it will be a big deal if we're not there right when it starts, do you?"

Rachael: "I like Ben's room."

"Huh?"

Rachael: "I like Ben's room."

"Wow, that was an interesting and abrupt transition."

Rachael: "Yeah, I just thought about it. But, I really like Ben's room."

While this conversation was harmless enough, one must be careful. Imagine some of the possibilities:

"Honey, do you like the blue tie or the yellow tie better?"

Rachael: "I like yellow."

After getting home and getting dressed up to go to dinner, I walk in wearing the yellow tie.

Rachael: "Oh, I liked the blue tie better. Why'd you get the yellow one?"

"Because you said you liked it better. Remember, I asked you which you liked better and you said you liked yellow."

Rachael: "Well, I do like yellow. When you asked me, it just made me think of colors, and I like yellow better than blue."

The opportunities for confusion can be endless.

If only communication skills were as easy to learn as diction.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Or maybe,

The words in the brain are understood when said plain.

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The Bulletin Board That Almost Wasn't, The Curtains That Grew, and the 6-Mile Zone

2009-08-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I spent one of the longest hours of my life.

This year, Rachael finally got an official classroom for her to teach music in. Needless to say, she is very, very excited. When Rachael is excited, she is very animated, very awesome to behold, and almost impossible to say no to.

She asked me if I'd help her re-do the boards in her classroom. I asked her how long she thought it would take. She said probably no more than an hour, maybe two.

I agreed.

Several funny things happened as we prepared her classroom. The fact that the 1-2 hours turned out to be more than 6 hours, even with my dad helping for 4 of it, was not one of them.

Sorry, I digress.

Rachael is very creative. She has tremendous talent.

She decided that the boards would look much better covered in fabric instead of with papers. She had previously purchased sheets to do so.

All well.

All fine.

We began to put the red fabric on the first board. This would have been a much simpler task if the sheet was large enough to cover the board.

I asked Rachael if she had measured the board. She said that she had not, but that someone had given the measurements to her. She then said in her guilty-conscience way, that she had not been able to find them while purchasing the fabric, but that she kind of had them in her head, and that she was sure it would be enough.

You all can see how well that worked out.

One of our next projects was to put white fabric over a bulletin board, attach that board to the wall, and then hang a curtain rod on it, over which Rachael would drape some nice red curtains.

All was going fine until I looked closer at the curtains.

Me: "Hey, hon, don't you want these two curtains to be the same length?"

Rachael: "They are the same length."
Me: "Um, no, they're not. One's quite a bit longer than the other one."
Rachael: "Are you sure? I looked at them closely. Even the pictures were the same.
Me: "No, they're completely different. The measurements are different and the pictures are completely different."
At this time, I showed the pictures to Rachael. She took one glance at them and said, "See- they are exactly the same."
I have attached both pictures for your viewing pleasure.

After pointing out the fact that one curtain was significantly shorter than the other, and that it was clearly so in the picture, Rachael decided that we would be needing to buy another curtain that was the correct size.

On to the next project.
We were working on stapling the fabric to one of the other bulletin boards. Now, it's very important that there are no wrinkles in the fabric. To accomplish this, you need to have two people working together. One stands on the back side of the board and staples. The other stands on the front-side of the board so they can hold the board and make sure the fabric looks good before the other one finalizes it's placement with the staples.
I was the stapler. Rachael was the holder/looker.
Working together, our conversation tended to be fairly monotonous.
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."

Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
After doing this several times, I noticed that Rachael's tone had changed. I looked at her. She had that far-away look that indicates she has left this terrestrial plane and is hovering in the celestial sphere know as The Rachael Zone. Just to be sure, I tried again.
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
I watched her eyes the entire time I asked her and while she answered. I'm not sure what she was looking at, but it was approximately 6 miles away, through the walls of the building and not even in the same direction as the fabric she was supposed to be looking at.

Each time I said "OK", she was saying "Yeah", as if in a trance, without ever looking at the fabric.
I called her attention to it. She shook herself back to the here and now. We both laughed a bit.
We finished that board and began working on another. We began the process again. Once again, I noticed the monotone, the vacant stare, the fact that Rachael was not even looking in the general direction of the fabric we were working on.
Working together, we finally finished everything.
Rachael shared with me all of her ideas to cover-up the errors that were made through a lack of attention-to-detail.
I'm sure it will all turn out great. It almost always does. Rachael is very creative and this creativity often compensates for her lack of attention-to-detail.
This got me to thinking. Which came first?

Did Rachael's above-average creative ability lead her to quit paying attention to the details, knowing that her creativity could overcome any obstacle?
Or, does Rachael just naturally pay less attention to detail, and so her brain compensated by blessing her with exceptional creativity, kind of like a blind person's other senses becoming enhanced to help compensate for the lack of sight.
Later that day, I expressed my thoughts to Rachael. We talked about it for awhile. She sometimes minimizes the difficulty her lack-of-planning and preparation causes for Her Poor Husband and others, so I told her a story. A true story. I am currently reading the book by John C. Maxwell, titled The 21 Irrefutable Laws Of Leadership. He shares this story in that book, highlighting the importance of paying attention to the details.
In 1911, two groups were in a race to be the first to reach the South Pole. One of the groups was led by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen. The other group was led by a Brit by the name of Robert Falcon Scott. Amundsen paid attention to the details; Scott did not. Amundsen had proper food and fuel. Scott did not. Amundsen made it to the South Pole a good month before Scott. Amundsen made it safely home with all of his party. Scott and all of his party died of thirst/hunger and exposure.
Rachael looked at me. She said, "That's not a good story. I thought the story was gonna be about how one person made it by great planning, but the other was able to come up with some totally new way of doing things, or something like that."

Me: "No, he died. Him and all of his party."
Rachael: "I don't think I like that story."
Now, to be fair, I must admit that the room turned out great. Rachael's creativity once again saved the day. That does not surprise me that much, as I have witnessed it many, many times. Rachael does have some amazing talent. She will post some 'after' pictures on her post tomorrow. You should check them out. Especially the red bulletin board. You'd never know that hiding beneath the carefully placed decorations are gaping holes.
All's well that ends well, I guess.
So, while my title probably fell short of something really original, like The Lion, The Witch, and Wardrobe, you now know the story of The Bulletin Board That Almost Wasn't, The Curtains That Grew, and the 6-Mile Zone.

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Rachael's Intelligence Concerns

2009-08-18T06:00:00.001-07:00

So the other day, Rachael and I were talking, and she said that she was somewhat concerned about her blog and mine. I asked her why.

She said that she was worried that people would think that she was not smart. Unintelligent.

I said, "Honey. Why would someone think that. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of people that have destroyed their vehicle in a car wash and then drove away three different times with the gas nozzle still firmly attached to their car, thereby ripping the hose right off the pump."

This didn't seem to help, so I tried again.

"Hon, lots of people have probably left their purse on top of their car, in Borders, at restaurants, at practically every public area from Salinas to Sacramento. You can't be the only one."

I don't know what I was saying wrong, but this didn't seem to help either. Being the ever-compassionate husband that I am, I knew I just had to find the right words to make this situation all better.

"Hey, no one is going to think you're stupid. Lots of people have forgotten to put their makeup on, and instead substituted highly toxic sharpies that gradually absorb into your skin, mix with the aspartame that's already turning into formaldehyde in your brain and cause you to grow a 3rd eye."

I could tell that my efforts were not getting me anywhere. Rachael looked truly concerned, so I knew I had to get this right.

"Hon, look. You are not stupid. You're very bright. I don't think anyone is going to let a few hundred times of zoning, or forgetting, or nursing inside your portable tents tarnish their stellar view of you and your intelligence."

Somehow, I still wasn't getting it right. I think that the pressure of the moment may have been too much, and caused me to have a mental block, unable to come up with the right intellectual antidote to Rachael's feelings.

I quit talking before I made the situation worse.

But then I got to thinking.

What if people did get the wrong idea? What if people really did think that Rachael is unintelligent? While the $50 Rachael has earned off of her blog would be an enticing temptation, I don't think it's quite enough to sell one's dignity or public perception for.

That's why I decided to post this blog tonight.

I, better than anyone, have had a first hand glimpse into Life With Rachael. I have seen Rachael at her best and at her worst.

Rachael is forgetful. She does zone a lot. She doesn't pay attention to all the details.

But she is far from stupid.

I'm sure that all of you that know her are aware of this fact already. But, it does seem to haunt her on a fairly regular basis.

I don't know how many of you have read about multiple intelligences. If you have a child, I would highly recommend the book, How Am I Smart? as you seek to be a good parent to your child. The book delves into the subject of multiple intelligences. It is very fascinating. It's been awhile since I read the book, but I am sure you will enjoy it.

Rachael is VERY music smart. This is something I thank God for. I love to sit and listen to her play the piano and sing. It is soothing to the soul.

Rachael is also very people smart. She has great intuition. I used to have a lot harder time accepting Rachael's feelings, because I like to have a factual basis for my observations and beliefs. That being said, Rachael has an uncanny ability to size up a person and their motives and intentions. It's pretty awesome to behold.

Additionally, I took a few college courses with Rachael. She scored well on the tests and usually got A's and B's. And she'd never let me copy any of her answers.

By the way, if you've never seen Rachael take a test, it's quite the sight.

I usually have just finished bubbling in my name on the ScanTron, and I'd see Rachael get up. I'd think, "Wow, she should have went to the bathroom before class started." But, then to my astonishment, I'd watch as she turned her test in. I truly believe she's the fastest test-taker in the West.

Watching her as she works with our kids, I am eternally grateful and impressed with her ability to maneuver through the myriad of obstacles and roadblocks that kids can throw in front of you. I don't really think there's a 'parenting intelligence' but if there was, Rachael has it.

So, I know that this post is not the funniest ever. I hope you'll come back again later for all the humorous stuff. (By the way, my post tomorrow will be filled with more classic Rachael humor. We worked on her new music classroom this past weekend- Some good stuff is coming!) But, I thought it was important to give my side of the story on this issue. We all have fun laughing WITH Rachael, but I wanted to be sure my posts were never taken as serious put-downs of the lady I love.

Ok, Ok, enough sappy stuff. Come back tomorrow to see pictures of the Bulletin Board That Almost Wasn't and The Curtains That Grew, as well as a description of The 6-mile Zone. Until then!

The Heredity By Marriage Factor

2009-08-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day. We had good church services and right after church we helped clean up around the church.

Then came a nap.

After the nap, my dad came over and Rachael, my dad, the kids and I all went for a short hike over by Elkhorn Slough. I love (most of the time) watching the incredible energy of children. They are incredible.

I also love seeing the world fresh through their eyes. Watching them as they discover something new allows me to see it for the second first time again. It's pretty cool.

That, however, is not the subject of this post.

On the way back from Elkhorn Slough, we were all talking as we were driving the little-worse-for-the-wear Expedition back to our house.

We passed the Chevron in Prunedale where Rachael severed not one but two of the pump nozzles. I pointed it out to my dad and of course we couldn't help but talk a little bit about it.

That's when my dad said that the conversation reminded him of something my aunt's mother did.

My aunt lives in Montana. Her mother would occasionally come and visit her.

Apparently, on one such visit, her mom came up to a stop sign, but did not notice it was there. She went right through the stop sign and hit someone that was in the intersection. While this is never a good thing, she stopped, made her apologies, made sure everyone was ok, and was soon on her way. I assume insurance handled the details.

Glad to be safely to her daughter's house, she visited her for awhile.

She soon left.

Sometime after that, she was going to visit her daughter (my aunt) again.

She came up to the exact same stop sign as before.

She did not see it, as before.

She went right through it, as before.

She hit a vehicle, just like she did the first time. She got out of her vehicle to give her apologies and make sure everyone was OK.

Imagine her surprise when she saw it was the exact same person in the exact same vehicle as the first time.

What are the odds? I mean, seriously. Stop to think about it. What are the odds of having a collision with the same person in the same car at the same intersection after not seeing the same stop sign?

I actually did the math, and it worked out to be exactly the same odds (1 in 45,853, if you want to know) as driving off three separate times with the hose still firmly inserted in your car and thereby ripping the hose right out of the gas pump.

This got me to start thinking.

Again, what are the odds. I actually figured this out again. The odds of having two separate instances happen, both with odds of 1 in 45,853 would be 1 in (45,853 x 45,853), which works out to 1 in 2,102,497,609. That's a little over 1 in 2 billion.

I don't know about you, but that seems a little too far-fetched to me to be considered coincidence.

I can only think of two rational explanations.

1. You can inherit genes and traits through marriage. When two people are married, they become one. Is it so hard to believe that they may have a melding of the gene pools? I don't know, but something to consider. Why, just the other day, I was driving down the road on the way to Pilot to get some gas, and I had an uncontrollable urge to pull over to the right. When I did, I looked up, and I was at Chevron. Since I was there anyway, I went ahead and got some gas. When I pulled away, I did NOT yank the hose out of the pump, but I could have. With my marital genetic disposition, I was probably, practically, almost close to somewhere near certainly predestined to do so. I guess it's a good thing I don't believe in predestination, or I'd probably owe Chevron $442 and I'd have to start my own blog to pay for it.

2. Rachael had heard the story of my aunt's mom's adventures with the unseen stop sign and just knew that she could do better. Sometimes getting people to laugh can be worth almost any price you have to pay, even if it is $442 and at least a small amount of publicity. I am a bit worried, though. The odds were exactly the same. If theory number 2 is correct, we may be in for an unwelcome blog post in the future, when Rachael has another Chevron incident, just to be sure she can beat out my aunt's mom.

After considering the two options, I really don't think Rachael has intentionally done any of this. If I had not lived with her for a little over 14 years and personally witnessed many zany accounts of Life With Rachael, I might not be able to believe that any one person could have so many accidental incidents in one life time. But, alas, I have witnessed enough to be a true believer.

Which leaves me with only one possible theory.

Somehow, Rachael and my aunt's mom are sharing at least a portion of the same gene pool.

We'll just hope that Rachael decides that she doesn't like to go swimming very often.

I'm not sure if Chevron (or I) can handle it.

-The Poor Husband

The Chevron Board Meeting

2009-08-14T22:17:00.001-07:00

I think a quick recap of Rachael's Chevron exploits is in order.

It all started at the Chevron on Davis Road in Salinas, CA. Rachael decided to really test out the 4-wheel drive capabilities of our Expedition and muscled it through the car-wash, resulting in a $1000 co-pay. I'm not sure, but I think our insurance went up as well.

The second Chevron incident was at the same Chevron. Rachael drove off with the nozzle still firmly implanted in her gas tank and ripped the hose and nozzle right off of the gas pump.

The third time, Rachael was at the Chevron in Prunedale, CA. For the SECOND time, she drove off with the nozzle hanging on for dear life as it's umbilical cord was snapped free from the life-giving fuel pump.

So far, Rachael had managed to get by with nothing more than a $1000 co-pay. Chevron had not charged her a dime for any damage done.

Then, came the fourth, and hopefully the final time that Rachael decided to test the patience and tolerance of Chevron. The event took place at the Chevron in Prunedale again. To the dismay of the Chevron staff that had watched Rachael dragging the remains of their pump hose beside her Honda, they got to see a repeat. I like to think of it as a sequel to the entertaining sitcom that is known as Life With Rachael.

This fourth time, something changed.

Chevron responded differently than they ever had before.

They charged us for the damage.

They charged us a whopping $442. Now it could be argued that this was one of the best things that Chevron could have ever done. After all, the desire to pay for her damage was the genesis of the idea for Rachael's blog, My Poor Husband, and where would we all be without that?

That being said, I still wanted to find out why they charged us this time, when they never had before. I began to think about it.

To ponder.

To consider the possibilities.

My mind began to slowly overturn every over-looked rock to let the sharp sunlight of openness and honesty expose the dark and impure motives of Chevron.

I began to imagine what it must have been like for the Board Members of the Montery County Chevron Meeting.

Now, I can't be sure, but I think it must have went something like this:

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ This is where the screen starts to fade and the day-dream sequence begins. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Chairman: "So, wrapping up, Ever since we began our relationship with GE Money Bank (GEMB), profits have been soaring. I'm proud to announce that every member of upper management will be receiving a substantial quarterly bonus, based off of the incredible revenue our late fees have been generating."

Local Manager: "Aren't you worried about the long-term consequences of these overtly irregular and unfair charges? I mean, don't you think we'll lose a bunch of customers?"

Chairman: "Well, it remains to be seen what the long-term consequences will be, but what I think we should be focusing on is the here and now. We're raking in profits like never before! I'd like to thank each of you for your part in this endeavor. And, that brings us to our last item on the agenda today. I notice that we've had an increase in the deductible for our Errors and Omissions Insurance. What is the cause of this?"

Manager of Davis Road Chevron: "Well, I know speaking for my store, we've had a bit more customer damage than normal. In fact, we had one lady that tried to barrel through our carwash with her Expedition and then returned back to the gas station at a later time and pulled one of my gas pump hoses right off of the pump when she drove off with it attached to her Honda."

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "That's interesting, because mine is a very similar circumstance. I had some lady that drove off with the nozzle still stuck in her gas tank TWICE. The same lady! Both Times! And she was in a Honda, also."

Manager of Davis Road Chevron: "Really- It wasn't a Honda Accord was it?"

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "Actually, it was. Hold on- Let me grab the records. It was license plate 4GSPUMP5."

Manager of Davis Road Chevron: "Oh my goodness- It's the SAME PERSON!"

Manager of Davis Road Chevron: "Wow! That's incredible. The same person. Four different incidents. What are the odds?"

Chairman: "It seems obvious to me that we need to take action. When was the last incident?"

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "That would be at my store and it was just a short time ago. What do you think we should do?"

Chairman: "It appears to me that she needs to learn a lesson. I think charging her four or five hundred dollars should do the trick."

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "I'll make it around $450."

Chairman: "Sounds good. Let us know what happens."

*****Fast forward to the next month's meeting*****

Chairman: "So whatever happened with the Chevron Bandit?"

Managers: "Who?"

Chairman: "The Chevron Bandit - You know, the crazy lady that has tried to destroy one of our car washes and three of our gas pumps. You were going to talk with her."

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "You are NOT going to believe this. She agreed to pay a bill of $442. BUT, she asked if she could do it in payments and pay for it with money she's making off of her new blog, My Poor Husband. Apparently, she is going to post this whole escapade on her blog and try to make money off of it. Can you imagine!"

Chairman: "The nerve of some people. What did you tell her?"

Manager of Prunedale Chevron: "I told her that was fine as long as it was a minimum of $75 per month."

Chairman: "Just make sure she learns her lesson. Since our last meeting, I received a video that I think is her damaging another service station. She must be stopped. I'm not sure, but I think she borrowed a friend's car and had another carwash incident too.Is it legal for us to ban her from all Chevron stores?"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Daydream is over- Back to Reality\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

So, I can't be sure, but I think that's close to the way it happened.

Whatever the truth may be, I was driving by the gas station in Prunedale the other day and noticed something funny.....

They had installed a second sign that was titled "Rachael's Prices". Check it out.

**For a more recent update to this saga, check out this link.**

**If you enjoyed this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab so you can stay current with this blog. Enjoy!**

The Faith Of A Child, Part 3

2009-08-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

If you have not yet read parts 1 & 2, you must start there. I think this story will touch your heart. Please go to Part 1.

I must admit that this post has caused the old leaky eyes to start. I hope you have enjoyed reading it half as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

I thought you might like to see the dresser that we received as an answer to Hannah's prayer. When we originally got it, it was missing a drawer. I like to do some wood-working, so I just pulled out the other drawer and was going to use it as a pattern.

Knowing that I would not be finished in the next 1-2 weeks, or maybe years, I decided I'd better come up with a 'temporary' solution. I cut a few boards to size and placed them in the empty socket left by the absent drawers. Hannah began using this space as a great place to store her shoes.

At this point, Hannah loves it just the way it is, so it looks like my 'temporary' solution is going to be permanent. This helps answer one of my prayers, in that it cleans up the area in our entry-way. Previously, all of Hannah's shoes could be found in the area where you see the roller skates. It looks so much better now.

This has been a huge learning experience and faith-building exercise for me. I hope you have found value in it, as well.

We can often find so much to learn from our little children if we simply take the time to watch, open our ears to listen, and trust in God to lead.

Sometimes God's leaders and lessons come from unlikely sources.

Are we ready to listen to Him and follow?

**If you liked this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab to stay up-to-date on future blog posts. Enjoy!**

The Faith Of A Child, part 2

2009-08-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

If you have not read the first part of this story, please take the time to do so now. Otherwise, this one will make very little sense. Go to: http://lifewithrachael.blogspot.com/2009/08/faith-of-child.html.

After Hannah's move into her new bedroom, we realized she did not have a dresser for her new room. Hannah prayed to God in the sweetest way possible, and with total faith, after which she fell deep into a sweet sleep. Rachael was the one putting her to bed and told me about Hannah's prayer.

Being the adult that I am, I marvelled at her incredible faith, her seemingly unwavering belief in her God. I probably even envied it a little bit.

Then I began to worry some.

"What's going to happen when Hannah wakes up and she has no dresser?"

"What's going to happen when we go through the entire day tomorrow, and there is no dresser?"

"Will I be able to convince Hannah that God answered her prayer by Rachael and I spending our money to purchase one?"

"Will her faith be tested?"

I fell asleep thinking about how to explain to Hannah why she did not have a dresser sitting in her room when she woke up. With the incredible faith that she had, I thought she might actually be surprised that the dresser was NOT there.

I woke up Sunday morning and got the kids out of bed, and began to make breakfast. Yes, I made breakfast. I am in charge of Sunday mornings. While I have never professed to being a fine chef, I serve up a mean toasted Eggo waffle, or Quaker Oatmeal (the kind that you only have to add hot water to.) I sometimes mess up the oatmeal, but usually it comes out at least edible. As I was getting everything ready, I was trying to prepare mentally to help answer any of the doubts that Hannah was sure to express about there not being a dresser in her room.

I called to the kids that breakfast was ready. They dutifully came and sat down. We said grace and began to eat.

This was it.

This was when Hannah was going to start asking the questions.

She opened her mouth to talk.

I braced myself.

"Dad, can I have some milk, please?"

The entire breakfast went smoothly. There were no questions. There was only the normal conversational banter that comes whenever you have 3 kids in close proximity to food.

After breakfast, I headed off to take my shower after giving the kids their instructions to clear their spots and get ready for church.

"Whew, it looks like I'm not getting any hard questions this morning!"

Everyone got ready and we piled in the truck. Now, we live about 35 minutes from the church we go to. That's a long time. Plenty of opportunity for Hannah to ask the Hard Questions.

But there were no Hard Questions. There were no questions at all. By this time, I figured maybe Hannah had just forgotten about her prayer.

I think I may have just been underestimating the depth of her faith.

Sometimes when we as adults ask God for something, if He doesn't answer in the next 4 minutes, we figure he's just not listening, or Satan's attacking, or our spouse is living so unholy that God can't possibly answer our prayers. We sometimes forget about that whole In His Time thing.

We had a fairly uneventful ride to church. We always enjoy seeing the ocean, the sea lions, the beautiful reflection of the sun on the bay. We had our normal conversations. All was normal and nice.

We pulled up to the church.

We looked at the yard surrounding the church and saw a dresser.

I turned to Rachael and said,

"Look at what's in front of the church."

The kids did not see it at first.

Rachael said, "Oh My Goodness, Look at that!" in the exaggerated tone we parents use when we want to be absolutely sure our kids get our message.

Once they saw it, Rebecca said that Hannah needed a dresser. Hannah asked if she could have it.

Now why is there a dresser in front of the church. Why? Why indeed?

We've been going to this same church for almost 6 years. It's not like it is a normal place for people to dump furniture. In our entire time there, we've never seen a dresser there on Sunday morning. Or a couch. Or a bed. Or any other piece of furniture, for that matter.

I'm still not wanting to get my hopes up, so I answer Hannah's question as my adult version of watered-down faith has taught me to:

"I have no idea. We'll have to see what's going on with it."

I have no idea? I have no idea? Can I possibly be any more dense?

We walked into the church and talked with the pastor and the deacon. We asked them what was going on with the dresser. Neither had any idea. They said that someone had left it there sometime on Friday. They both expressed surprise at the fact that no one had taken it on Saturday. The neighborhood around the church is not terrible, but it's not the best. Apparently, things like the dresser don't usually sit around unclaimed for long.

I asked them what they were going to do with the dresser.

They answered.

"We don't know. We don't want it. Do you possibly want it?"

Thinking back to this now, I feel like bawling like a baby. I am prone to doing that at times. Especially when confronted face-to-face with the incredible goodness of God. I told Hannah. She did not even seem surprised. She did seem very grateful and happy.

After Hannah had asked for the dresser, I hoped that I might be able to somehow use the opportunity when she didn't get the dresser to help her learn a lesson about how God doesn't always answer our prayers like we think He might. Maybe a lesson on waiting on God. Or a lesson on never losing Faith.

I was hoping that Hannah's faith might be strenghened.

Instead, Hannah's faith was completely and totally fulfilled, and I was the one to learn the lesson.

When I began this post, I talked about how thankful I am for the influence Rachael has been on our kids. I believe that Rachael has played an instrumental part in helping develop the faith of our children. Life with Rachael is often full of blessings.

That night, as we got down to pray, I talked to Hannah about her prayer the night before and how amazing it was that God had answered it so suddenly and completely. She had the knowing look of a child that knew what was going to happen all along. I don't think she was nearly as amazed as I had been.

She got ready to pray.

I halfway-jokingly asked her if she'd mind asking God to give Daddy a Corvette.

She just looked at me and said, "Dad!" like it was crazy to ask for something like that.

I think she gets it.

She really gets it.

I'm working on it.

*Be sure to come back tomorrow for the final post and to see a picture of the dresser that Hannah's prayers brought.

The Faith of A Child

2009-08-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Life with Rachael has been very exciting.

Life with Rachael has been filled with adventure.

Life with Rachael has been filled with many incidents that are considerably funnier now than what they were when they happened.

While I try to be patient, I'd be giving Pinocchio a run for his money to say I'd never been seething in anger. I think I only actually seethed once, but I have been rather upset at times.

My love for Rachael has always been infinitely more powerful and deeper than any superficial frustration or even anger I may have had over some of the things that have happened.

There are many, many reasons to love Rachael. Tonight, I am going to tell you about at least one.

She is a great mother.

She has taught our children many wonderful things. She has taught them through her actions as well as her words. I believe she has demonstrated an incredibly deep faith in God that has been noticed by our children and manifested in their actions and attitudes.

She has also taught me. She has taught me how to love better and deeper than I ever could have without her. She has taught me how to better live out my Christianity. I think she's better at that than I am, but I'm working on it and I am eternally grateful to live with such a great embodiment of God's love.

We have been living in the same house in Salinas, CA for almost 6 years now. Up until recently, Hannah and Benjamin had shared a room. In addition to this, all three kids shared what we called our toy room. The toy room was a great idea in theory. The theory was that the kids could all go into a common area that would always be nice, clean, and orderly. They would play calmly, quietly, and considerately while listening to Mozart playing in the background. Their multiple intelligences would be stimulated and enhanced.

In practice, it turned out to be a catch-all for junk and toys from all three kids. It turned out to be a fight-magnet. It turned out to be just one and a half steps away from being classified as a junk yard. I am still looking for the ornery kids from the neighborhood that incessantly brought all of their trash and toys over to our house, snuck in the window in the middle of the night, and used our toy room as their own local refuse pit. At least, I'm sure that must have been what was going on, because a typical conversation went something like this:

"Rebecca, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"Umm, Dad, that's not mine. I think it's Hannah's."

"Hannah, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"Dad, that's Ben's, not mine."

"Ben, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"But, D-a-a-a-a-a-d. It's NOT mine!"

This same conversation was repeated when it came time to put the toys away as well. Except for one slight variation.

"Ok, if no one wants to pick up the toys, I'm going to just throw them away."

You could see the looks cross their faces. Each one trying to decide if they really cared about the toys in question. If no, they were more than happy to let me clean up the room for them. Even if they DID care about the toys, you could still see the hesitation, as they thought amongst themselves, "I wonder if _________ likes these toys too. If so, I can maybe wait awhile and they will take care of them for me."

The entire time, I'm staring at blank faces, wondering if I should have me kids checked for possible amnesia.

Most of the time, the amnesia seemed to clear right before the toys were thrown away. One of them would suddenly remember that the toys did belong to them and they'd rush to clean them up.

The plan had always been that when Hannah and Ben got older, we'd separate them, one would stay in the bedroom they currently shared, and the other would move into their own bedroom, and we'd no longer have a toy room.

That was a plan that came to fruition a few weeks ago. Hannah came to us to let us know that she was ready for the big move.

After a lot of hard work, mostly by Rachael, we were almost set.

That's when we discovered that Hannah would no longer have a dresser. She and Ben had always shared a dresser, but now they would be on opposite sides of the house. Ben would keep the dresser they had formerly shared, and now Hannah did not have one. We did not have the extra money to buy a new dresser and had not had time to go to yard sales that day, as our primary focus was on the big move.

The big move took place on a Saturday, not long ago. That night, we said prayers with Hannah. She prayed her normal sweet, innocent, regular prayer that she says every night. But, in addition, she said, "Dear God, can you please send me a dresser for me to use in my new room?"

She said this so sweetly, so innocently, with the absolute pure and beautiful faith that we as grown ups seem to somehow forget, or at least have a really hard time finding after a busy day of dodging bombardments from the devil. She prayed with total faith, total confidence in her God. Rachael was the one that actually prayed with her, but she told me about the prayer.

Now, me being the adult that I am, I knew there was no way God was going to magically reach down and place a dresser in Hannah's bedroom. When I went to sleep that night, I did not expect to wake up in the morning and find a dresser in her bedroom. I figured that God would probably only answer that prayer if I decided to take some money and use it to purchase a dresser for Hannah. In fact, I was mildly concerned that Hannah's faith might be challenged a bit if and when God did not answer her prayer. I did not want her to wake up, go though the day, and be surprised to find out she still did not have a dresser.

The next day did turn out to be quite a surprise. Come back tomorrow to find out what happened.

Click here for part 2!

InvisiTrav

2009-08-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

We recently had an intruder in our house.

A criminal.

An absolutely deplorable man with nothing but evil intentions.

At first, he was not noticed or marked for the man he was. Eventually, though, his presence was too overbearing to pretend not to notice. He was bigger and brighter than the pink elephant in the room that we all so often fail to see. I know some people say we ignore this elephant, but I think sometimes we don't even see him. I wonder which is better?

Anyway, back to the story.

InvisiTrav had joined us.

*Now I should stop you right here and let you know that the end of this post will not make sense unless you have already read Rachael's Post, Nursing Under Cover, as well as my post, I Used To Hate Camping. So, if you have not read them, I encourage you to do so now. Failing to do so will cause you to get to the end of this post and be seen scratching your head. Don't say you were not warned.*

Fortunately, Rachael and I are true soulmates. Now, contrary to popular belief, that does not necessarily mean that you will never argue or fight. It does mean that even while you argue and fight your love never wavers, never falters, is never doubted. Soulmates truly are united in a way that transcends rational explanation.

One of the things I am most thankful for is that God allowed me to marry my soulmate.

Unfortunately for Rachael, my evil twin brother sometimes joins me in our arguments. When I thought about writing this blog post, I decided that my evil twin brother needed a name.

InvisiTrav was born.

After spending many, many years together as a married couple, and especially as soulmates, you get to the point where you can almost anticipate what the other is going to say or do. While this can be beneficial at times, it can also cause its share of problems if it goes unchecked.

I know InvisiTrav has entered the room when I see Rachael looking at me like I just really wronged her and I have no idea what I have done.

Now, most of you have never seen The Look that Rachael has when she is not happy, or is feeling slighted or hurt. It is painful to behold. Painful because you worry about what she is thinking and feeling. But even more painful because you know that your days may be numbered.
I had mentioned The Look to Rachael on many an occasion. She never seemed to really believe that it was as bad as I said. So I resorted to doing what any self-respecting husband would do. I took a picture of her in the act. Now, when she gives me The Look, I pull out the picture and show it to her.

She usually screams in fear.

Anyway, when I see this look, I immediately do two things.

1. I reflect upon our most recent conversation(s). Typically, upon reflection, I discover what I said or did that was probably a lot more mean-spirited than it should have been. In this case, my heart breaks for hurting Rachael, I shed a few tears, I apologize, she forgives, we hug and move on. One of the things I am thankful for is Rachael's forgiving heart and her love for me.

2. If I can not find anything I said or did that was mean-spirited, I ask myself if InvisiTrav may have entered the picture. InvisiTrav is an insidious, mean-spirited, destructive personality that tends to get me in a lot of trouble.

An InvisiTrav intrusion becomes apparent when I ask Rachael why she is SO mad at me.

"Well, you think that I'm just......(fill in the blanks)."

I answer, "But hon, I do not think that, and I did not say that."

"I know, but you thought it."

Now, the interesting thing about InvisiTrav's treachery, is that Rachael's responses to his dastardly deeds are just as real as if I had actually been the one responsible for them. Now, to be fair to Rachael, I have to say that she is probably somewhat influenced in her responses based on past times where I sometimes acted more like my evil twin brother than I would likely care to admit. So, while I may not have been mean to her this time, she remembers the last time we were in a similar circumstance and may assume I'm going to do the same thing this time.

As you can probably imagine, InvisiTrav is not a very welcome guy to either of us.

Rachael and I have now decided to band together against InvisiTrav and kick his sorry rear-end out of our marriage. I let him know that I can be plenty inconsiderate and mean without needing his help. He was sorry to go, but eventually seemed to understand.

I apologize if he sometimes breaks into your home and poses as Invisi________. (Fill in your name here.)

Occasionally, though, he likes to trespass into our home again. Most of the time, his visits are short-lived. We simply hold-fast to our 2nd ammendment rights and target-practice on him. On those few occasions that he does sneak past our defenses, I sometimes have to resort to going out to the garage.

And talking to the tent.

And pretending it's InvisiRach.

NOT The Luckiest Person On The Planet

2009-08-09T23:34:00.000-07:00

I have only had my wallet stolen or lost or accidentally left behind one time in my entire life. Now, if you are like

The Man Purse recovered after the theft.

me, and you live with Rachael, this could seem exceptional. Without exaggerating, I would guess that Rachael has left her purse in a public place at least 25-30 times. I know most of you are sitting there right now thinking I'm exaggerating that number just for effect on my blog. I assure you I am not. Any of our close friends can vouch for this.

The amazing thing is that we have never lost one thing out of it. Ever.

In fact, we have had people go to some amazing lengths to ensure that it was returned safely. Please see Rachael's post, The Luckiest Person On The Planet.

I have never, ever, even one time left my wallet in a public place.

But of course, I am the one to have mine stolen.

I can remember the night well. Rachael and I were enjoying a peaceful, relaxing time shopping at Wal-Mart in Rocklin, CA. This was in our Pre-Kids life, so most evenings were peaceful and relaxing. All of you parents know what I'm talking about.

We were checking out at the cash register.

While in line, I noticed the Ice Cold, Tantalizingly Beautiful, Good-To-The-Last-Drop, Diet Cokes, placed so completely conspicuously close to me. Now, I have mastered avoiding a few temptations in life. Smoking- never have. Drinking- never have. (At least intentionally. That's another post, although it does not involve Rachael and so may never find it's way on this blog. We'll see.)

Diet Coke, though.

I still have a weakness.

I fought the good fight for at least 2.23 seconds before giving in. During that period of time, my face became contorted. Sweat began to pour. My hands began to shake.

I knew there was only one thing to help.

I grabbed a Diet Coke.

Now, I know that there are many people out there that think it is quite funny to play practical jokes on friends or strangers. Some will do almost anything as long as they get a good laugh. A certain memory of a bull-horn in Las Vegas comes to mind, but that again is another story.

I believe I fell victim to someone's practical joke that night in Wal-Mart so long ago.

As soon as I paid for the soda, I calmly twisted off the lid in a slow-motion manner. OK, OK, so I tore it off as quickly as I could.

I was so anticipating the first taste of Ice Cold Diet Coke. The first taste is always the best. It kind of primes your taste buds for the rest of Heaven's Nectar to follow.

Imagine my dismay, when instead of being able to take a nice refreshing drink, the soda spurted all over me and the floor.

Apparently, someone had thought it would be funny to shake an Ice Cold Diet Coke up and put it back in the cooler. I looked around the store. Many people were laughing. Many people diverted their eyes when I looked at them. I knew they couldn't all be guilty, but I was sure it had to be one of them.

After staring at everyone that so much as smiled in my direction, I was saddened to see that I was still not going to be able to drink my soda.

There was a fairly large pool of Not So Ice Cold Diet Coke on the floor.

Now, I may be a lot of things, but I try hard to not be inconsiderate. I did not want to take the chance of having someone slip in the mess that I had created. I asked the checker if they had any paper towels. They did not, but pointed me in the right direction.

At this point in my life, I had a rather large wallet that Rachael had given to me as a present. All of my friends called it my man-purse and seemed to gain a great deal of satisfaction out of laughing at me about it. I am not sure but I think they were all just jealous. I know someday, they'll all have one.

I know this, because I think someday I'm going to give each of them one for Christmas.

Whatever the case, this wallet was much too big to fit in my pocket, so I was keeping it in the small compartment section of the shopping cart.

I turned away from my cart and walked about 12-15 feet away to get some paper towels. I retrieved them and immediately walked back and worked on my mess. When I was finished, I threw the towels away and was ready to leave the store.

I looked down at my cart.

My wallet was gone.

I had literally only left the cart for about 20 seconds. In that small amount of time, some heinous creature, some human waste, some ectoplasmic speck of putrid vile, had stolen my wallet. OK, so I'm not even sure what an ectoplasmic speck is, but I'm sure it is a fitting description.

I looked over at Rachael, for she had been standing there the entire time. I was sure she had pulled out my wallet to make me think that someone had stolen it. However, she was standing there, hands where I could see them, face transfixed. She was in her Zone. Someone had brazenly stolen my wallet out of the shopping cart that she has standing about 3 feet from. They were just lucky that Rachael retreats to her Zones early, often, and for extended periods of time. While her Zone appears to be quite the incredible place to be, it did not prove conducive to apprehending the would-be thief that stole my wallet.

Now, normally, I would have been upset.

However, in this case, I noticed that they hadn't really taken anything of value.

I calmly reached down, picked up my Ice Cold Diet Coke, and finally was able to take my long-awaited first sip.

After spending most of the morning canceling all my credit cards and mourning my losses, I went back to the store the next day and found my wallet behind a row of bushes. Someone had stripped it clean and discarded it like an unwanted carcass, which was totally unbelievable, because it was really a great wallet. If my man-purse jealous friends had found it, I know they'd still be carrying it today.

Every single thing in the entire wallet was gone. I apparently do not have the luck that Rachael does. I keep trying to convince her that I need to rub her for good luck once in awhile, but she doesn't seem to see how that would help. I say it sure couldn't hurt.

**If you liked this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab to stay current with future blog posts. I hope you enjoy this site! -The Poor Husband**

I Used To Hate Camping!

2009-08-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

This is my memory of Rachael's post Nursing Under Cover.

I can remember it now, just as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

We're sitting in a nice restaurant. Everyone is hungry. Everyone is talking. Everyone looks like what you would expect to see when a family goes out to dinner.

Except Rachael.

The waiter comes over close to our tables, but always seems to hesitate and then head the other direction at the last minute. You can tell that he's just not quite sure of what to make of the spectacle now sitting before his eyes.

He looks around the room just to be sure that he's still in his restaurant.

Not at Yosemite.
Not at Yellowstone.
Not in the Great Outdoors.

And yet there is a tent sitting at his table waiting to be served. He looks around as if to say, 'Where did this tent come from? I'm pretty sure it wasn't here when I just walked out of the room to the kitchen."

It takes him a few minutes, but he finally realizes that the tent waiting to eat is actually a human being sitting at the table with a blanket pulled completely over their head. Kind of like an advanced form of whatever it was that Linus from Peanuts had.

And when I say advanced, I am speaking more in the sense that a horrible disease is called 'advanced' right before it debilitates you.

It's the first time he's ever met my wife, Rachael.

He tentatively approaches and hesitates before speaking to me.

"Is everything OK sir?"

At this point I can tell that he is considering the options for what is going on at his table. It appears that he has narrowed it down to three possibilities:

1. The person under the blanket is very, very afraid of food and the mere sight of it may make her scream.
2. The person under the blanket has some very raunchy breath and wants to ensure no one else has to suffer through their halitosis.
3. The person under the blanket is clearly clinically insane, and their insanity is quite advanced.

As I look into his eyes, I quickly realize he has opted for option number 3.

I try to ease his mind.

"It's OK. She's fine. She's just nursing."

The transition is quite fascinating to behold.

The waiter first appears to be relieved that he is not going to be attacked by a clinically insane, halitosis wielding mad-man that is afraid of food.

Then he realizes what he just heard.

"She's just nursing?"

He says this as if it is the first time in his life he has ever seen someone set up their own tent just so they could nurse their baby at a restaurant.

Really! He needs to get out more.
Meanwhile, I'm left to fend for myself as everyone in close proximity is slowly sliding away from me at the table.

Apparently, my fire-red embarrassed face is throwing off more heat than the air conditioning can handle.

At this point, I'm tempted to crawl into the tent with Rachael, just so I won't have to show my face. The only thing that stops me is thinking about the reaction of the waiter when he comes out to our table the next time and finds me missing. Of course, he will have his manager in tow:

"Um, sir, this is what I was telling you about. Uh Oh, it looks like we lost another one. I sincerely recommend that we remove this tent from the inside of our restaurant before it swallows any more of our patrons."

OK, OK, so that is probably not what would happen, but I have a hard time thinking when my head is on fire and beet red!

So, I do the one thing that I have tried hard to learn to do well.
I simply try my best to pretend that everything is fine.....

And then I start talking to a tent.

**If you enjoyed this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab and check out the other stories for other family-friendly humorous material. Hope you enjoy! Click the 'share' button to share with your friends. Thanks! -The Poor Husband**

The Zone

2009-08-07T20:52:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was forced to think about zones.

Now, there are certainly many good zones. In fact, most of you have probably heard a coach tell you or another to 'Get Into The Zone!'. When someone is 'In The Zone' they can use this to intensely concentrate on the task at hand.

In California, we have all had to 'Slow for the Cone Zone'. This is good, as it ensures the safety of all the Cal Trans workers that are leaning on their shovels. Plus, cars whizzing by too quickly have a tendency to wake them up, so we have all decided together to slow. My apologies to all the hard-working Cal Trans workers out there. I didn't mean to cast a bad light on both of you.

This morning, Rachael forced me to consider yet another zone.

The Rachael Zone.

Now, my morning routine is somewhat systematic. I wake, take a shower, do my hair, shave, use my Q-Tips, put on my deodorant, and then use the bathroom. I have developed this system, as I have timed other variations, and this one seems to be the most efficient. Anyway, this morning I was using my Q-Tips right as Rachael came in the bathroom and went about doing her important business. With quick calculations, I figured it would only be approximately 28.6 seconds until I was done with my Q-Tips and deodorant and would need to use the bathroom myself. I figured I'd be OK. Rachael would be finishing right as I was ready. My routine would be sacrosanct.

Then I glanced over at Rachael.

She was on the throne and in a zone.

Now zones are not necessarily an unusual thing for Rachael. She tends to find herself in one at least once a week, or day, or sometimes once an hour. Sometimes more often than that.

I can count on at least 2-3 zones each time we drive for a half an hour or so. Typically at dinner, I have to wake her up from her zone at least once.

And sometimes, we'll be having a conversation and the next thing I know Rachael is gone. I've timed it and she usually leaves us when she sits still for 22 seconds or more. This is a rough estimate and it can be heavily influenced by the amount of sleep she had the night before.

So, anyway, here I am putting on my deodorant. I look over at Rachael to see if she's finishing up. I see the classic tell-all signs of the Rachael Zone. I go through my checklist just to be sure.

Vacant eyes?
Check.

Slack Jaw?
Check.

Transfixed Gaze?
Check.

Utter oblivion.
Check and Double Check.

Right about now I know it's going to be necessary to do a serious intervention or plan on using another bathroom.

I opted for the intervention.

"Hon?"

Now, if you've never seen Rachael return from a zone, it really is a sight to behold. It seems that her consciousness returns from somewhere deep inside her. Her whole body shakes. Well, it's not so much a shake as it is a jerk, like someone does when they've been startled. A bewildered look comes across her face. She looks around with a look that says 'Where in the world am I and How did I get here?' The dawn of recognition then begins.

"Should I use the other bathroom?"

"No, I'm all done. I've been done."

"Ok. Just wanted to be sure."

One day, under similar circumstances, I decided to see just how long Rachael would remain in her Throne Zone. I calmly left the bathroom, used the other one, got dressed, and left for work.

Imagine my surprise when I returned home that night.

The kids were running and screaming all through the house.
There were cereal and lunch remains left on the table and all around the table on the floor.
The couch cushions were strewn about the living room.

So far, everything seemed pretty normal.

But then I went to use the bathroom....

Rachael was still there. She looked exactly the same as when I left her, except that her legs were even whiter than before. They were a ghost white. A porcelain white. An alabaster white. A white that said, "We have not received any blood for 10 1/2 hours. We are not only asleep. We are comatose."

Apparently, the toilet seat had cut off the circulation to her legs.

"Honey, are you OK?"

Rachael's body shook, her head turned, she seemed to wake up, and then she said, "Oh, are you leaving for work now?"

Being the kind and compassionate husband I am, I used the opportunity to pat Rachael on the knee once ever 30 seconds or so. That seemed to somehow enhance the tingles that were cascading up and down the nerves of Rachael's legs as the blood was trying to figure out which of the unused vessels to once again begin using. I was really curious to see how long it takes to completely restore proper circulation, so I continued this educational activity for about 15 minutes. After that, it seemed that all was well.

The funniest thing of all was the reaction I received each time I patted her again. She did not get angry as I had expected she might.

Her body shook.

Her head turned.

She looked around.

"Where am I?"

****Integrity Alert- This entire story is completely true up to the part where I left Rachael all day. That is just a good old-fashioned lie, designed to make you laugh. I hope it worked.

**If you enjoyed this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab and check some of the other posts out. I hope you like them! Thanks - The Poor Husband**

Intro and The Chevron Check

2009-08-06T22:21:00.000-07:00

So, I fully realize that I will never be able to match the incredible wit and humor of my wife. No, I'm not even going to try. I only like to attempt something I know I can win. That being said, there's often additional information that I know you would be interested in. Feel free to check in here to get the behind-the-scenes information that Rachael does not post on her blog. Sometimes she's too scared, too embarrassed, or maybe just forgot. I don't know. But I think you should. :-)

Take today for instance.

Many of you posted comments on FaceBook asking her what happened with Chevron today. She's a little embarassed about the whole incident and told me that she's not going to talk about it.

But that doesn't stop me.

Rachael is in the room with me and I just told her that I'm telling the story. Her response was an exaggerated groan and a plea for mercy. But that's OK. I'm sure she'll get over it.

So...

I'm sitting at my desk today working diligently to accomplish my tasks. An email pops into Outlook. It's from a friend of ours. She says that she has a great idea for Rachael's next blog topic. She suggested that Rachael write an entry about how she posted a picture of the check she paid to Chevron on her blog.

This check has all of our contact information on it. No big deal. Most everyone knows where we live anyway. Plus, we love company.

Most of you now know where we live. Stop by and say hi sometime. We'd love to have you over. Maybe Rachael will fire up her world-famous chocolate fountain and make you some chocolate-covered strawberries or something.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. The check also has our Bank routing number on it. And our checking account number. And the check number. And her signature. Basically, pretty much everything needed to make a check forger's dream come true. I mean, usually a criminal has to work a LITTLE bit to get this kind of information. He may have to toss a few garbage cans, climb in the trash at the dump, you know- something like that.

Now that he's met Rachael, he'll never have to worry about that again. Life just got a whole lot easier.

So, I received the email from our friend (thanks Jenny!) and called Rachael immediately. I asked her if she had posted her Chevron pictures on her blog. She cautiously asserted that she had. At this point she knew something was up, but was not sure what. I asked if she had also placed a picture of the check she paid Chevron with. She said yes.

I had not actually seen the blog yet, as I don't make a habit of using paid company time to check on personal issues. So I had to ask:

"Did you leave the bank routing number, our checking account number, and the check number all there for the whole world to see?"

There was a bit of a pause.

And then a miserable response.

"yes."

To her credit, Rachael got off the phone and immediately took the steps necessary to correct the problem.

Within about 10 minutes, I received a follow-up phone call.

She told me that the problem was all taken care of. I was very happy to hear this. I asked her what she had done. She told me that she'd put a stop payment on the check.

I paused, thinking this over.

"So, if I were wanting to forge this check, I'm thinking that I would most likely not use the exact same check number as I know has already been used. Or, if I were going to pay for something check-by-phone, I'm pretty sure, I'd just add 10 to the check number and call it good."

Rachael did not sound happy.

In truth, I do not see how stopping payment on the check helped accomplish anything other than ensuring Rachael gets to visit her favorite gas station in the whole world tomorrow to give them another check. That, and I'm sure the Chevron employee is becoming more and more impressed with her.

But then Rachael went on, and I quickly realized that this whole escapade was going to work out just fine.

Apparently, the bank teller she talked to thought this whole thing was so funny that she told Rachael she would waive the stop-payment fee and get this....

She said, "Oh, I have to read this now." She wants to join the fun at Rachael's blog.

Rachael then gave her the name of her blog. She cracked up laughing. I'm not sure, but I think she was laughing at me. I know it wasn't laughing with me.

The only conclusion I can come to is that Rachael calculated the risk of putting our financial stability on the line in order to increase her blog readership. So now, we have a bank teller that is following the never-ending saga that is our life.

I actually asked Rachael if she did this just to give her more material to write about. She swears she didn't.

She's usually pretty honest.

But you just never know.